Hey WAIN, thanks for taking the time to talk to us today. Could you tell us a little known fact about yourself?

A small, slightly nerdy fact that explains a lot about my music: I often “see” sound as color when I work. It is not full synesthesia, but I experience strong color associations with chords, instruments, and reverbs. That is one of the reasons I titled my eight-track debut project Still Colorful (some outlets style it Still Colourful). When a song begins, I usually have a color palette in mind before I have a lyric on the page. A dusty teal might mean intimate nylon-string guitars and a very short room reverb. Deep amber might suggest a broader, cinematic pad with a long tail. Those palettes keep me honest. When the mix starts to look gray in my head, I know I am polishing the life out of the track and need to step back, bring the breath and the room noise back in, and let the performance be human again.

Your Still Colourful EP explores themes of uncertainty, growth, and identity, so how did those ideas emerge during the writing and production process?

The themes were not a concept I sat down to script. They showed up the moment I decided to let emotion lead the sessions. I began each song by asking a very simple question: what is the truth that hurts a little to say out loud. That is where uncertainty, growth, and identity live for me. From there I built scenes. I approached the project like a film with eight chapters, each sung by a different vocalist, each co-written to reflect the voice in the room. I would sketch an initial production, then sit with the artist and reshape verses and imagery until the lyric felt owned, not performed. That process gave the project its spine. Even when the songs travel from folk-pop warmth to airy ambient space to clear pop hooks, the emotional thread never leaves the room. You can hear it in the quieter conflicts the record keeps returning to: choosing presence over overthinking, holding on versus letting go, learning to make peace with the imperfect self you bring to every relationship. Those are the colors that stayed.

How do you ensure a balance between organic, acoustic warmth and cinematic pop elements in your sound?

I treat space as an instrument and intimacy as the lead performer. The cinematic part comes from width, depth, and movement. The organic part comes from keeping one element almost uncomfortably close. So I might layer wide pads, reverbs, and subtle synth swells to paint the horizon, then keep a single dry sound breathing right in front of you. That sound is often the lead vocal, but it can also be a scratchy acoustic guitar, a piano pedal noise, or even the inhale before a phrase. I love the moment when you feel like you are standing in a big room while someone is whispering in your ear. Technically, I build that balance by contrasting stereo and mono decisions, by automating reverbs rather than drowning the whole arrangement, and by letting acoustic transients cut through glossy textures. Philosophically, I try to remember that a song is not a showreel. If the heart of the record is a fragile confession, the production should protect that vulnerability instead of hiding it.

What tools, instruments, or production techniques were essential to capturing the atmosphere of this record?

I am comfortable in Logic. Vocals are the center of everything I do, so most sessions begin with a simple chain that stays out of the way: clean capture, gentle 1176-style compression in series with an LA-2A-style stage, light subtractive EQ, and a de-esser that I automate per phrase rather than set and forget. For atmosphere, I lean on a few recurring pillars. Short rooms and plates for intimacy. A single long hall for emotional lift. Parallel reverbs to keep tails present at low levels. Re-amping stems through small amps or speakers to glue sterile sources to the real world. Baritone and high-strung acoustics for width without excess low-end. Piano felt and pedal noise for humanity. On the mix side, parallel compression on drums and vocals is about dynamic honesty, not loudness. I would rather the chorus feel like a camera lens opening than a limiter pushing. Finally, I print decisions. Committing to edits, comps, and sound design kept the project cohesive across eight different voices.

What do you hope listeners feel when they hear Still Colorful for the first time?

I hope they feel seen in the quiet spaces of their lives. The project is not only about romantic love. It is about the harder conversations we have with ourselves when no one is around. I want a listener to press play and recognize a thought they have not said aloud yet: the fear of losing a good thing by overthinking it, the relief of admitting you cannot be perfect for everyone, the stubborn hope that stays even when you feel washed out. If a first-time listener feels both grounded and a little weightless, I did my job. Grounded because the songs feel like rooms you have been in before. Weightless because the production gives you permission to float above your day for three minutes and return with a softer perspective. My favorite messages are not about numbers. They are from one person in another time zone telling me a line kept them company on the way home. That is success to me.

You’re relocating to Los Angeles soon, so how does that move fit into your artistic evolution and future ambitions?

I have always been a collaborative producer, building songs shoulder to shoulder with vocalists and writers. In L.A., that energy is everywhere. Mornings might be topline writing in a small Echo Park room, afternoons comping and vocal producing in Burbank, nights swapping guitars for a late acoustic pass in a friend’s space. The scale is bigger, but the values are the same. Proximity accelerates trust. I can finish a verse with an artist, bounce a new mix on the spot, and test a harmony stack while the emotion is still hot. Ambition-wise, my goals are straightforward. Keep serving artists at a high level. Keep producing, mixing, and co-writing records that travel. Partner with labels and music teams who value storytelling and vocal excellence. And keep building a track record that shows consistency across different voices without losing the emotional fingerprint people associate with WAIN.

What’s also next for you?

Two parallel tracks. The first is creative output. I am deep into a new run of collaborations in Los Angeles that build on what Still Colorful started. There are a few singles where I am the primary artist again, each with a different vocalist, and there are productions for other artists where I am in service mode as producer, vocal editor, or mix engineer. Expect the same blend of intimate storytelling and widescreen sonics, with a little more rhythmic risk and texture design. The second track is craft. I am investing even more in vocal production and mix translation. That means building faster systems for comping, tighter session organization for label workflows, and mix checks across rooms so songs hold their emotion on earbuds, in cars, and on stage. Beyond releases, I want to contribute to a creative community here by being the person who shows up on time with a clear head and a good ear. If I can keep doing that, the milestones tend to take care of themselves.

Follow WAIN on his Website.