Ahead of that sold-out show, Zahm answered some of our burning questions via email.
I know that you got your start in the music industry at a young age as an
American Idol contestant. Can you talk a bit about that experience and what you feel you gained from it, that has been helpful throughout your career?
I think the biggest take away from American Idol was probably seeing other people write their own music, and at that time, I hadn’t really written any music seriously, or that was worth listening to. I would see my friends, like Maddie Poppe and Catie Turner, sing their original songs and I was like wait — I think I could do that. It kickstarted me going home and really trying it for myself and enjoying it.
Prior to Idol, what initially made you gravitate towards music? Did you write and sing growing up? What led you down the path of being a performing artist?
I don’t think I really ever saw myself as a performing artist. I think being raised in the church and being a worship leader was a big part of my musical journey. After American Idol, realizing that I could write my own music, and seeing what it felt like to sing the music that I had written with other people that memorized it and knew it — that was what helped me realize that I could to be a performer. But I don’t really look at it as me performing and other people watching; I think of it as a group activity of us, like connecting with the music that I write.
What was your journey in the music industry like after Idol? Can you tell me a bit about working towards where you are now?
Oh my God, after Idol was crazy. Being in a small town, at least Boise, felt small at the time, a lot of people were very invested in my American Idol journey. I was so sick of talking about it that I ended up dropping out of school and I felt like a failure. It was just a really big mental health dip for me. I’m really thankful for my parents, because I had moved back to L.A. for a couple months at that time, and just was miserable. I moved back home and went back to school, and my parents saw how deeply sad I was. My mom was actually the one who told me that I needed to drop out because I could do music if I really wanted to. She just wanted me to see what it would look like if I really tried. And so, I thank her a lot. Not a lot of parents would beg their kid to drop out to pursue music, but she was right.
Your show at the Beachland Ballroom in Cleveland is sold out. It’s hard to sell out a show in a city that isn’t a massive market like New York City or Chicago. How has your success on the road, in so many different locations, motivated you to keep going? What is the most rewarding part of seeing so many fans connect with your music live and in-person?
Oh, it’s so weird. I mean, I feel like a lot of this has been so new to me. When I was releasing music a couple years ago, I never really understood what it would be like to be on the road. I feel like seeing the reaction of people in small towns and not major markets has made me realize how much I wish I would have had my music when I was growing up in Idaho. And I guess it just means that the people that I was writing the music for, that it’s reaching them. So, I’m really grateful for that. I also, I don’t know, I can’t believe that I’m here. Every time I enter a room, and it’s sold out, and people are singing my songs, I feel like I could throw up.
So, what song on the new album are you most excited to play live? And why?
Surprisingly, “Lights On Kind of Lover.” That one really slaps live. I also think it’s really sweet to see couples sing love songs that I wrote, now that I am just lethally single.
I love the title of the album and I think it is very fitting, since the songs are written in such a diaristic way. Can you talk about how you landed on the album title?
Hilariously enough, I knew that was going to be the title before I had even written most of the songs. I felt like the EP was definitely me deconstructing and unraveling parts of my identity that were major in the formation of who I am. And losing that many identities in a very short amount of time, it felt like I didn’t really have a chance to be honest about what that felt like. So, I kind of went into it knowing that it was gonna be like a diary of what it feels like to completely deconstruct yourself as a human being.
I think that the last track on Now That I’ve Been Honest, “Growing In” really captures the spirit of the whole album. I’m curious to hear about the process of writing that one and sort of, meeting yourself where you are.
I think it’s so silly, goofy that most of the songs that I write, I feel like it’s very similar to throwing up, where I just get an idea and I need to finish it right away. Songs usually only take me a few hours to finish when I know they’re gonna be on a project. We actually revisited “Growing In” six or seven times, which is so strange for me to think about. And I remember Adam [Yaron], my producer and musical soul mate, was very shocked at the fact that I kept revisiting the song and adding new lines to it. It felt like the perfect conclusion because it was a song that I didn’t feel this urgency to write, but it became the song that I added to as I was learning about myself, learning during the entire creation of the album.
How did “Robin Williams” come about? I love how it’s this profound social commentary, but it also feels introspective. The first time I heard it felt like a stab to the heart.
Robin Williams was one of my favorite childhood actors – Hook was one of my favorite movies. I remember learning about all of the struggles that Robin Williams was going through during the time that he was creating some of my favorite movies and bodies of work. I just can’t imagine what it would be like to bring so many people joy while you are suffering that deeply. When I had released “Fat, Funny Friend” and it felt like a peak of my career moment, but I was miserable. I remember so many people telling me that my music was helping them heal and grow, and I felt like I was kind of disintegrating. I just remember thinking back to Robin Williams and all this stuff that he was going through while he was making America smile. That inspired this song about the idea of the people that make us laugh the most, the funniest people are typically the people that have some of the hardest things happening internally. I remember reading a quote that said, check on your funny friends, and it really hit me.
Can you tell me about the inspiration behind “Lights On Kind Of Lover”? It feels like the softest, most romantic song on the record.
At the time of writing it, I had just started seeing somebody, and I was still working through a lot of my body dysmorphia. There’s something to be said about being loved by somebody who makes you embrace your body – not that you need somebody to love your body in order for you to love your body, but it does help. Because if you love them and you love their taste, who are you to tell them that something that they love is not lovable. It kind of forced me into a corner to value what she valued.
I think “Where Do All the Good Kids Go?” is cool because it chronicles your journey from a bird’s eye view. Can you tell me a bit about writing that one?
That song was probably the quickest song we had written. It’s interesting explaining to somebody who doesn’t have church trauma what church trauma feels like. I remember explaining to him and us writing those lyrics so very quickly that I was always way too young to be that good at growing up, and I asked him if we could do an interlude that felt like chaos. I’m very grateful that he understood it based on very little context that I had given him.
How did “Eightball Girl” come about? Can I hear a bit about the production process for that one? It feels like a bit of a sonic departure. It really grabs your attention.
“Eightball Girl” was actually about the first crush that I had had on a girl. She was one of my best friends, and still is one of my good friends today. I kind of ended up writing her a song because we were kissing, and I didn’t know what it meant, and now I know what it meant is that we were gay. I ended up writing the song and sending it to her, and she was so lovely about it. I’m very grateful for how supportive she’s been with that song release. It’s meant to feel like the first time you experience queer joy, and I wanted the production to sound like that, even though at that time I feel like I was struggling. So, a lot of the songs are more melancholy, and this song felt like a needed switch up, because it was a joyful song and it was such a joyful experience.
I want to ask about a couple of songs that aren’t on the record. I think that “Fat, Funny Friend” has some of the most devastating lyrics I’ve ever heard. It’s clearly incredibly personal and born of your own experiences through your specific lens, but it’s also universal because everyone has felt like there are elements of themselves that other people can’t understand or relate to. People feel like they must get through certain things on their own or that there are certain boxes they are put in by society. Did you think that song would translate so well? I mean, it’s your most streamed song ever.
That’s a really intentional question. I did not expect for it to resonate the way that it did. At the time, I was really freaked out about posting it because I had undergone weight loss processes and was losing weight at a rapid scale. I was afraid that it wasn’t gonna be received well. I knew it was an important song when Catie [Turner] and I sat down and wrote it, but I wish that I had had it when I was 13 or 14, going through PCOS and weight gain. I also knew that it was really important to me that I posted when I wasn’t at the end of my weight loss journey, because had I had, you know, been 16, when I was struggling with my weight, and then looked up and, like, heard this song, and then looked that person up and saw a skinny blonde, I would have been absolutely pissed off. I remember being like, “I don’t wanna release this, and I don’t wanna let it out because it’s really vulnerable and scary.” But I also knew that it’s now or never. I told myself that I was gonna post it once and let it be what it was gonna be. Then I remember, slowly but surely, more videos started being used. My publisher called me one day when I was at home and she was like, “Maddie, you need to go and look on Tik Tok.” There were 10,000 videos that had popped up within a couple days. I ended up posting a video about it and my Tik Tok shut down, because I think I got 13 million views overnight. I couldn’t sleep. I was just scrolling and crying and reading everybody’s kind words. It was an evening I’ll never forget. I felt like I was on drugs.
Can you tell me about writing “You Might Not Like Her?” That song feels like such an important recognition of your growth and changes as a human. We all want to get to a spot where we like who we are becoming, but I like how the song also carries empathy for the versions of you that you leave behind.
I wrote it with one of my closest friends, Carlee [Chappell]. I came into the session, and it was after I’d kissed one of my girlfriends. I was crying, and I was like, “What does this mean? I don’t know.” I wrote this chorus and then those verses were the fucking fastest thing that have ever come out of my mouth. Melodically, that song doesn’t make sense, because you can tell it was just a rant. I had just gotten off a plane and was late to the session. I sat down and just wrote the first fucking line. I sent it to my publisher; she told me the chorus was insane. I was like, well, we need to find somebody else to sing it, because I’m not coming out, and I don’t even know if I’m queer. She wanted to pitch it for a queer TV show. I told her I don’t know if I’m queer. I don’t know if I’m LGBTQ+. I’m so grateful that my publisher was so loving during that time, because I was gaslighting myself a lot. I even ended up accidentally sending it to my mom, which is kind of how I ended up coming out to her. It just felt like this giant secret that I was keeping, and it wasn’t even my sexuality; it was the song. Like, I just had it in my back pocket. Slowly but surely, I started showing people and experimenting more with my sexuality, and then realized that I am queer. I still can’t believe that I ever was brave enough to release it. But I think “Fat, Funny, Friend” really helped because it found the right audience. So, I figured this one would too. It’s weird — sometimes, I don’t think people realize that when I was releasing all of that, like, I needed a really big break after that EP, because I was so exhausted. It wasn’t just a body of work. It was me coming out. It was me. It was my life. And that that song is so much more than just a song to me.
What are some of your goals as an artist and performer, moving forward? What do you still want to explore?
Honestly, I have some pretty big goals. I want to keep going on headline tours. I want to release an album a year. I would love to be able to collaborate with some of my favorite artists. I just wanna keep connecting with people over shared experiences and writing and releasing shit that scares me. I kind of want to sell out pretty big venues, which is scary to admit. I have a hard time taking myself seriously sometimes, but I think that comes from growing up plus size. I didn’t feel like I could take myself seriously. Now, I’m learning I can say things with my chest.
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This article appears in Feb 14-27, 2024.