An Interview with PACKS
Words by Sarah Morrison
Toronto’s PACKS have been a personal favourite of ours since our wild and unexpected discovery at the beginning of 2020. Their lo-fi slacker rock is hypnotizing; it’s the sort of music that stays with you. Before the world took a pause, we sat down with the band to learn who PACKS really was and we couldn’t get enough! Live footage of our first PACKS gig can be found below.
Maddie shines bright through her charismatic self-expression. It’s easy to see why so many people are connecting to PACKS music. Her vulnerability is dipped in metaphors, and while we may not all completely know the deeper meaning of her words, it’s a form of poetry that strikes a nerve within so many.
Prior to the release of their debut album “Take The Cake,” we caught up with Maddie to delve into merging past and present works, an artist residency in Mexico, and the struggle of balancing love in a multitude of forms.
Growing up outside of Toronto, what was your impression on the music scene/industry? Did it feel like you were walking into something blind or did you sort of have an idea of how you would find your footing?
Oh my gosh, we had our first show at The Central (it’s demolished now) as Triples and all our friends came. I think Matt Sandrin booked it! We thought “Aw this is cool!” but it was maybe one of the worst moments of both of our lives. Eva’s guitar wouldn’t stay in tune, my high hat stand kept slowly falling throughout every song, we hadn’t practiced enough, I’m cringing just thinking about it. But we ended up playing two or three shows a month for dude bands touring Canada after that.
There is definitely a hype for male bands in the Toronto scene.
It was in the midst of changing right around the time the pandemic hit. The Buddha had closed and everything scattered. Things were just reestablishing their footing and becoming really solid again. I think it’ll be even more solid when everything comes back!
PACKS was initially a solo songwriting project that you started working on, at what point did you feel comfortable enough to share the experience with others? How did you meet the rest of your band?
We had known each other for around three years and had jammed together before super drunkenly! I knew they were solid guys and super, super solid musicians so it was a no-brainer when they asked. There wasn’t a lot of processing in my head!
When you’re not working on PACKS music, you work as a set dresser for commercials. How did you get involved in that aspect of the film industry? Is having another artistic outlet as your full-time work important to you?
I’m not actually doing that anymore! The job I’m doing now is sort of similar, I’m a PA for cartoons! I value this job a lot because I get to work on cartoons and make them happen.
The set dressing was just for commercials, it’s what you do when you’re entry-level. I loved that job a lot because you get to drive around town in a big truck, it’s physical labour all day, you’re always in a different place, and going into the prop shops was a really fun experience. You see an object and you associate it with the proper house. It’s a mind-bending experience. It was always really funny and it peaked my creativity but the waste in that industry was revolting. I’m happy to not be contributing and hope I can make a change with that someday.
I read you recently finished an artist residency in Mexico, what made you decide to take that leap and branch out?
I was possessed and it was a crazy decision. Maybe irresponsible and a little selfish. It was a month of working on art. It was super super crazy! I sat on the plane with the ex-minister of culture from the 80s and they told me all the fun stuff to do in Mexico.
What sort of things did you learn about within yourself and/or the way you work that you possibly wouldn’t have you not attended?
I learned that I’m really affected by the number of people in a space. I’m used to having my own space so when I got to the residency I was the first to arrive and it was so relaxing. Next, a couple arrived and we all wore masks in the common areas, we were really careful and prudent. Slowly more and more arrived, two or three people at a time. It was a slow decline, the more that were there, the less freedom I had and the less I felt mentally ok. I thought I would write a bunch of new songs there but I wrote only one song at the beginning. I felt like I couldn’t sing or play guitar without annoying others. I worked mainly on papier-mâché.
Obviously, we had a massive shift within the music community over the last year which actually led you back to the suburbs of Ottawa. There, you were able to delve into a lot of self-reflection and observation of everyday life. What was one of the biggest lessons or challenges that has stuck with you? How did that discovery shape you in to your present-day self?
The pandemic has forced a lot of sensitive and artistic people, and maybe those who didn’t realize they had a sensitive side before, to have the worst time ever and understand their flaws. For me, living with my parents and seeing my flaws in them, seeing the things I least like about myself and going “Oh wait, that’s where I get that from.” The way I have always been able to process is with music but honestly, I’ve started to try mediation. Music is supposed to be fun and if you can’t write a song that you’re happy with... especially now that I’m trying to write the second album, I’ve put a ton of pressure on myself. I need to take a break from all that and not go insane.
The album is a combination of old and new, past and present. There’s this balance between an everyday constant struggle to the unclouding of the reality around you. It’s a very relatable piece of work which is why your music is speaking and connecting to so many. Is vulnerability and rawness something that comes easily to you? Do you believe you are an open person?
Yes (laughs) you can see it in this interview now! Maybe saying way too much. I don’t really hold things back in the songs and I am able to get out what I have to because I can disguise it with metaphors. There’s a lot of references that spark something in me that are hidden.
All the respect to those who can outright say what they want to say in the plainest terms but I’m a very open person, I want to be as open as I possibly can be, but when I’m struggling with things, it’s more fun to write a song that’s packed with weird metaphors. I’ll write a song that’s really shitty and it’ll be exactly what I’m feeling. I get that out of the way so I can write a song that I could show other people that isn’t exactly what I’m thinking within my heart. Being prolific is like a security blanket.
Did looking at past work while bringing the new and old together feel challenging? Did it ever test you or bring up old wounds - if so, how did you respond to that?
When I brought the two vibes together, I kind of just listened to remix and send off to the mastering. When I listen to the full album, it’s weird, I almost don’t listen to it as myself. I think every time I’ve listened to the album I listen to it with the ears of someone else. But, I know when I listened to “ouch” the other day I could not stop crying. Maybe it takes a while. Maybe five years from now I won’t be able to stop balling. Right now, I listen to the songs and think “That rocks.”
“Two Hands” is the story of returning to your home roots after the chaos of the pandemic had hit. How eerie of an experience was that? Did it feel like a bit of a mind trip trying to collect your feelings on the situation you were living in and observing?
I got a lot of high school vibes from walking around the neighbourhood so much. The thing is, I was so creative in high school and that’s when I started making PACKS. It has never really felt depressing even while dealing with really heavy stuff. We had a loss in the family right at the beginning of the pandemic and it put a sheen gloss over pandemic life. Iit made the chaos feel normal.
“Silvertongue” and “Clingfilm” sort of speak to one another, each tackling a different element of a breakup process; finding your bearings after a breakup while still feeling lost and overcoming that pain and exhaustion within comfort to find your meaning of love. This feels like it may be an ongoing lesson for many, do you still feel like you have things to learn about regarding the aftermath of ending and losing a relationship?
Yes - that’s so cool! I never realized that “Clingfilm” and “Silvertongue” speak to one another. They’re like sister songs!
I don’t think I will ever not have anything to learn, ever. That means there’s always going to be songs to write! If you are truly a curious person and trying to live in the present with every moment, there is never going to be a time where you can say you know anything for certain. Love is the most confusing one because it involves another person. Friendship also involves another person but love usually involves someone you think you understand but you don’t understand. Love - I hate it, so much!
What have you discovered about the meaning of love so far, within any aspect of its form?
I don’t know what to say. It’s literally the bane of my existence. It’s the reason I have so many songs. I don’t write songs about how much I love my friends - maybe I should start? All my songs are about how obsessive my brain gets with any sort of romantic thing.
I feel like I can’t fully be living my life unless I’m expressing myself romantically. It’s a huge part of my personality! But I look at couples a lot of the time and think “Ugh, I’m so happy to not have one.” You really have to love the person and that’s the hard thing about it.