Interview: Midwife

The slowcore artist continues to explore grief in Orbweaving, a new collaboration with Vyva Melinkolya.

Midwife (background) and Vyva Melinkolya. (Photo by Jon McWilliams)

Hello from the abyss,

Midwife, the solo project of New Mexico-based Madeline Johnston, knows what it’s like to feel a deep wound. She’s expressed that across several releases of crawling, ambient lo-fi rock, which upon first listen reminded me of Grouper, a project similarly focused on the pain that’s an essential part of the human experience. Johnston’s sound, however, is even more reminiscent of the numbness that loss and tragedy can bring.

Not exactly chipper stuff. But Johnston wisely knows that grief can also lead to consolation and recovery. That fragile ground becomes fertile in Orbweaving, a new collaboration by Johnston and Vyva Melinkolya (Angel Diaz), out May 12 on The Flenser. Recorded in the heat of summer in Johnston’s New Mexico studio, the two spent the cooler nights outside searching for snakes and lizards. That desire to roam and explore can be heard in Orbweaving’s lyrics of surrender and the duo’s mix of drone, shoegaze and ambient folk.

I emailed Johnston after learning of her time in and connection to Denver, where she still plays a show every Valentine’s Day. (She has also recorded with previous Loops guest Paul Riedl.) I asked her about Orbweaving, post-pandemic grief and recording in the desert. Her answers to my questions are below.

But first — a humble plea: It takes time and effort to interview artists, who graciously grant me (and in turn, you) a look into their lives and creative process. If you consider this to be an important discourse, become a paid subscriber to Loops.

Listen on Bandcamp.

How did you meet Angel, and what led you to decide to collaborate on a project? Had you played together in the past?

Angel and I met in 2019/2020. We were initially supposed to play a show together in Kentucky on the (cancelled) massive tour I had booked for March 2020… 

We had started talking online, the correspondence eventually turned into almost weekly phone calls and we became close friends really fast. We would talk each other through life’s big shifts of the early pandemic. 

I think we both found the confidante we needed within each other. 

Our friendship was centered around music, so it just made sense that we decided to work together. First off, Angel sang on Luminol, and I really loved her contributions to my track “2020,” the Offspring cover. In 2021, I moved down to southern New Mexico and began hosting artist residencies in my home studio — I live in a big warehouse which used to be a youth center — it’s an amazing space, there’s a ton of room for people, and we can be as loud as we want. The residencies have always been very collaborative. 

I honestly don’t remember whose idea it was to begin a bigger project together, but Angel made her way to my home in summer 2021 and we spent a little over a week in the studio making what would become Orbweaving.

Overall, how was the experience? Did you have a guiding statement or set process going into each recording?

I learned so much from working with Angel. Every session is enlightening in its own unique way, and each time, I learn more about how to work with other people, and more about myself as an artist. Every project reveals its lessons and triumphs through tribulation. Very meaningful experiences. Any way that can get you to surprise yourself is totally worth it, even if … actually especially, if it's a challenge. 

I learned about letting go, the nature of collaboration. It’s a lot about trusting the other person. This was also the first time I had done any co-writing with another artist, which was really difficult for me. The reward was immense though, having faced my fear of not being in control and the preconceived ideas I had about perfectionism in my project, I came out on the other side feeling totally free. I had to break myself a little bit to get there. Collaboration is freedom. 

Midwife (left) and Vyva Melinkolya. (Photo by Jon McWilliams)

It seems like your natural surroundings were a big influence in Orbweaving. Your album notes mention going “herping,” which means looking for reptiles and amphibians. How did your recording environment find its way into the music?

Orbweaving was inspired thematically by Angel’s residency and time we shared together in New Mexico. Besides recording, we visited White Sands, witnessed UFOs, and went driving around looking for snakes along the empty roads near Las Cruces, the asphalt retains heat from the day, and the snakes absorb the warmth by writhing across the pavement at night. We saw a lot of rattlesnakes and roadkill. 

Our environment aesthetically set the tone for a lot of the themes that we played with and assisted in developing the world building element of the project. Angel is very interested in science and localized herpetology which inspired us to do many of these things. The track “Plague X” is about by the lifecycle of cicadas, whose 17-year periodical cycle took place in 2021. The group of cicadas that emerged are known as Brood X. In a post-covid world, we are no strangers to living in a plague year. The violent arrival of Brood X cicadas alluded to the Plague of Locusts written about in the book of Exodus. “Plague X,” and the record in full, takes a look at an internal, emotional environment in the context of this bleak and terrifying event. 

The record’s title, Orbweaving, is in reference to the orb-weaver spider. Orbweaving seeks to thematically and sonically create a web like structure — a gauze of sorrow and visceral connective thread.

You also say your music is about hopelessness and loneliness. Did you and Angel have different views on these two feelings, and what were you wanting to say about them on Orbweaving?

I believe these feelings can reach a universal audience while remaining deeply personal at the same time. It’s what makes art powerful.

My writing contributions to the record, “Miss America” and “Hounds of Heaven”, touch on big themes of hopelessness and loneliness:

I’m all alone,

there’s no place like home. 

At the time I wrote these pieces, we were all trying to claw our way out of isolation, and grappling with how to move forward. “Hounds of Heaven” is centered questioning of faith and the hopelessness that comes with that. Is there really a plan for all of us? The feeling of resolve comes around with having trust to move forward, and be guided by that trust in our faith. 

Would you take my hand?

Have your views on grief changed over the years? I think about it as we move further from 2020 and the start of the pandemic, and struggle to process all that was lost or changed. Has time impacted what you're trying to say with Midwife and how you're doing it?

Grief can make its way into all aspects of life. Grief is not just about people dying. Grief is inherent in everything, because the past exists and we will always be moving through time. This thought has been very affirming to me and my art practice — Midwife is about transformation, loss, and healing: All of my songs are about grief. 

With every act of immolation comes an opportunity for a new beginning. This is a sentiment that the pandemic helped me actualize and understand. In reading Tarot, the Ten of Swords card has a double meaning. It symbolizes loss, pain and endings. In reverse, the card can also mean recovery, regeneration and resistance. 

We are resilient creatures. 

One last question: Since this newsletter is called Loops, I like to ask people what their favorite music loop is. Any song, sample or sound?

William Basinski’s The Disintegration Loops. This is honestly one of the most beautiful pieces of music ever. The disintegration is literal: from the iron-oxide falling off of the tape loop as it plays and cycles over and over again.