Some artists thrive on complexity, layering their songs with intricate arrangements and high-concept ideas. Micah knows how to do that, this background in classical music, jazz, and rock makes him more than capable, but his latest single ‘Making Magic’ proves that sometimes the most powerful song is the simplest one. It’s a track that greets you with a smile, invites you in, and still leaves you with something to think about long after it ends. That balance, between playfulness and depth, between the intimacy of a low register and the lift of a bright chorus – is where Micah’s artistry shines. In this interview, we dig into the making of the song, the move from Boston to the warm embrace of Saint Petersburg, and the way he keeps intimacy at the center of everything he writes.

Hi Micah, great to have you here. You have plenty of thoughtful, almost cinematic songs in your repertoire, but the single ‘Making Magic’ feels unexpectedly bright, direct, even playful — like you took all your academic background, left it hanging on a hook by the door, and just decided to have fun. Was that your intention from the beginning, or did the mood of the track come up during the process? 

There are a few layers to this answer. Musically, I started playing the arpeggiated riff in the verses that comes in when the singing starts and built the song off that riff. The vocal harmony intro was conceived later. And I think to a degree, the mood of the song began to dictate itself right from that point. But lyrically, the subject matter is more serious than the playful music might suggest—and that is a theme through my writing, that the mood of the music may not intrinsically match the lyrical undertones. It’s an artistic choice, an opportunity to have the listener decide for themselves how they hear the song, how they respond. 

‘Making Magic’ is structurally quite concise, but it still feels confident: I don’t know, there’s this sense that you found the exact rhythm of your voice and delivery and didn’t try to complicate things. Are you consciously moving toward simpler forms? Is that a way to be more honest, to connect more directly with the audience?

Love the question! As a writer, I find that each song is a journey, and I try and let it guide me. This song has no “middle-8,” but the second chorus has an extended ending leading to a sort of post-chorus final hook, always my favorite part to construct. Also, I enlisted guitarist Jesse Sliger to play 12-string on this song, giving the whole recording an unconventional, fat sound. But as a seasoned writer, I’m always honest with my listeners…this track definitely says what it came to say, and from the heart.

You’re one of those artists whose voice carries the drama on its own. In ‘Making Magic,’ it sounds a little lighter, even slightly flirty at times — especially in the lower range. Did you feel comfortable singing in that mode? 

I like to write for the lower register of my voice—people seem to respond to it, and I am comfortable “speaking” to the listener this way as I did in the Making Magic verses. I think my lower register is super intimate, very real and very human. I think there is an authenticity there in my lower range, whereas in the choruses, I’m performing for you. Totally different feel.

Did you write this song about a specific person, or did it grow out of an internal dialogue? 

The concept of the song is meant to speak to how we (humans) treat each other (other humans) especially now during difficult times here in the USA. People are cheering as other people are rounded up and stuffed in cages. I wasn’t raised that way, and if I can’t speak from my heart, through my art, and say something meaningful about it, what the heck and I doing here anyway?!??

You’ve got classical training, jazz, rock, a lot of collaborations behind you — and all of that ends up shaping your voice: recognizable, warm, slightly melancholic. And you can hear that in the new single. How did you manage to keep your signature style while giving the track such lightness? 

I am conscious about trying to be diverse with my approach, and my motif should change to give listeners something new to chew on. And yet, it still needs to be me. There’s a wonderful artistic opportunity in there to evolve within myself. But I’m not a progressive rock guy—I want to write interesting but accessible songs that offer a different flavor of intrigue to the listener than one of my prior releases. 

Okay, let’s step back from the new single. You live and work in St. Petersburg, Florida — a city where you could be a pianist or a sea captain and no one would be surprised. How has the change of place affected you? Is there something in this new environment that’s awakened different sides of you as an artist? 

I’m from Boston and the imprint that life in New England left on me will always be front and center. But I needed a change, and Saint Petersburg is sunny and beautiful and a much slower pace. It is also a very inclusive city, a place that is magnetic to the arts, drowning in museums and music. There has recently been a huge surge of young professionals here, so it is age-diverse as well. I think the less frantic pace is absolutely better for me as a writer. I feel less encumbered, more creative, and more open to inspiration. 

You’ve played in all kinds of venues — from The Bitter End in New York to, probably, cozy studio concerts with a glass of wine and nighttime stillness. Which format feels closer to you today — the big stage with spotlights or a warm room with five listeners and a perfectly tuned piano?

I feel enormously grateful to have played Boston club venues like The Channel and The Rat, and then to have played intimate settings like Caffe Vivaldi in the West Village (NYC). But the rock band thing is so different from the singer/songwriter gig. First off, I need a room with a piano, unlike the guitarists who stroll in with their little rigs (jealous). And I want to play for people who came to hear song craft, not watch college football and catch-up with Bob and Jane. I am pondering setting up some video and doing a concert from my home, but I have some other agenda items to attend to before that!

Many musicians, especially those with an academic background, are tempted to structure everything, polish everything. But in your recent releases — especially the solo ones — you allow for liveliness, rough edges, like you’re giving the listener not a glossy postcard, but a real handwritten page. Is that a conscious choice — a gesture against sterility? Or does it just feel more natural? 

100% conscious choice! First off, I am a style singer—I put across my version of the singer/songwriter groove, and I want it to be authentic to the sound of me at the piano playing for you solo. Of course, I put harmonies and guitars in the studio versions, but Jason Pennock, my gifted producer/engineer, knows I want that authenticity and so we utilize recording technology to showcase my voice, my playing, and my writing. Also, I rehearse songs well before I record them so I can capture that sense of performance, almost playful improvisation at times, which I like to offer the listener. 

You’ve come a long way, and now it feels like both strict form and complete freedom coexist in you. When you sit down at the instrument now, where does it all begin? With a thought, a feeling, a chord? How do you write songs? 

yesss—the age-old question! For me, I improvise at the piano until something grabs me. Sometimes, I have a lyrical phrase in mind, but often the lyrics come after the structure has been roughly assembled. I play it into my phone immediately, because these little nuggets have a way of disappearing. Then I expand on the idea, mess with melodies, and see what form it takes. I leave it and come back the next day, and the next day, and see if the intrigue is still there. My song called Nothing But A Song just popped out one day, almost complete. Others take longer. It’s such a fulfilling journey, every time!

And what is magic in music to you today? Is it the lyrics? The melody? The thing that stays with you after the song ends?

Brian Wilson passed away as I was recording Making Magic. He was just such a masterful writer and I’d be a very different artist without my beloved Beach Boys and Beatles records. But there are great writers from every generation—Billie Eilish and her brother have written some beautiful, and unique songs. A great song takes on a persona, a three-dimensional body, and steps out of the recording to live within the listener, and that is a great gift. But what goes so often unsaid is that the gift works two-ways. As a writer, when anyone tells me that they were moved by something I wrote—that is by far the greatest, most magical gift.

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