Q&A: Max Winter Orchestrates Calm and Chaos on ‘Mourning Routine’
INTERVIEW
INTERVIEW
☆ BY HARRY SUTTON ☆
MAX WINTER WRITES ALTERNATIVE POP SONGS LIKE A COMPOSER - because he is one. Before stepping into South London’s idiosyncratic art-pop orbit, he trained in composition at Trinity Laban conservatoire, workshopping parts for string ensembles and building a toolkit of harmony, dynamics and texture. On his new EP, Mourning Routine, strings don’t just swell—they cut, shimmer and surge, braiding with a voice that stays hushed and a little frayed as diaristic lyrics loop like mantras. That sensibility anchors Mourning Routine, a 16-minute EP that Winter turns grand through restraint and arrangement.
South London is the setting and the pressure cooker. Winter moves through a community where collaboration is a reflex: shared studios, residencies at tiny, community-centered venues, labels that feel like collectives. That same circle powers thredd, Winter’s trio with Imogen Williams and Will Lister, born in the waning weeks of a month-long Laylow residency. Winter describes collaboration as “essential” to his work, and Williams, Lister and producer Melo-Zed helped to create Mourning Routine.
The result is an EP that feels intimate but architectural: alternative pop scaffolded by a composer’s ear. The songs spring back and forth between drift and impact, with distorted vocals, weaving string arrangements, electric grit and drums that arrive as contrast—clean, insistent lines cutting through the haze. Winter’s lyrics are simple but vivid, allowing the arrangement to drive the narrative momentum.
Mourning Routine isn’t only about grief, but about the rituals that carry you through it—the tiny habits that keep a day intact. “Fresh Air” begins as a tossed-off joke in a storm and resolves into a promise to get unstuck; “The Olympics” channels performance nerves into something charged and propulsive. Across the EP, the production holds up the ceiling so the voice never has to shout to hit hard. It’s chamber-minded indietronica, cinematic but immediate, built by an artist whose songs feel like scores.
LUNA: So Max, how are you feeling in these weeks leading up to the release of Mourning Routine?
WINTER: I’m excited to release some music, I feel like it’s been a while.
LUNA: How did you land on Mourning Routine as the title of the EP? To me, it evokes a daily, habitual reckoning with grief. What does it mean to you?
WINTER: Yeah you’re not far off, there’s part of that there for me too. I think also a reckoning with routines in general, not necessarily to do with just grief.
LUNA: South London has such a vibrant scene with new names breaking big every year and you work with indie labels like Scenic Route and Secret Friend that have a strong sense of community. What's it like being part of an ecosystem with so many ambitious, creative cohorts?
WINTER: I feel very lucky to be part of it. When I moved to London I was in admiration of other scenes and communities, and probably hoped I would at some point feel part of something similar. I am never short of inspiration when everyone around me is doing such great stuff.
LUNA: Speaking of cohorts, both of your bandmates from thredd (Imogen Williams and Will Lister) contributed to the EP as well as producer Melo-Zed. How have your collaborations and other projects influenced the sound of this solo debut?
WINTER: Collaboration is essential to my music. I do a lot of improvising and writing on my own, but quite quickly I will need to bounce off other people. Will, Imogen and I share a studio space together, so collaboration happens quite naturally between us. Zach [Melo-Zed] is a friend who I met around 2018, who also lives locally to the studio. The thing I find most important about collaboration with these people specifically is how they are able to help me get out of patterns of writing I might resort to instinctively. They help me get out of the comfort zone.
LUNA: How do you decide when a specific production or songwriting element fits better for the world of thredd versus your solo catalog?
WINTER: I think it’s not until a bit of time has passed and I have had a chance to listen back to sketches. I’m not sure there is ever an active decision, just a feeling that something is more meant for the band or myself.
LUNA: Slow-burning, atmospheric string arrangements are ever-present in both your solo work and your songs with thredd. What can you tell me about your jazz and classical conservatoire background and your approach to using strings?
WINTER: Studying composition gave me a lot of tools to work with, and writing for strings is something I enjoy a lot. At college, I was lucky enough to write for Trinity’s String Ensemble. I focused on a lot of extended techniques and textural experiments. I think you can hear a lot of that in my music.
LUNA: Those strings play a large role in making this 16-minute project feel grand and cinematic, while your earlier works such as Aporia and One Thousand Lonely Places contain glitchy breakbeats and fast-paced jazz-inspired drumming. What influenced your pivot towards the slower, ethereal tone of Mourning Routine?
WINTER: I think more of an interest in songwriting and simplifying the process a bit. It could also be that our mate took back the drum kit he lent us for the studio! So we were drum-less for a while.
LUNA: A lot of the lyrics across your solo endeavors and with thredd often feel poetic and abstract. What about that style of songwriting appealed to you?
WINTER: I think of myself as quite new to lyric writing. I only wrote a few lyrics for One Thousand Lonely Places, and since then have been finding my way. I like abstraction, and what I can obscure things with. I would say some of the words in this EP are the first time I have been more direct. It’s terrifying but rewarding.
LUNA: The digital production on these tracks often creates surreal, feverish atmospheres. Can you elaborate on any specific experiences or emotions imbued into the storytelling on Mourning Routine?
WINTER: Grief is most certainly part of it and now you mention it, maybe the emphasis on surreal production could be a way of dealing with it. It works as a temporary dissociation. I would say it deals with grief in many forms, not just the obvious, but in day to day life.
LUNA: I’d like to hear more about the story behind “Fresh Air.” It feels like a companion to your 2024 track “Don’t Live Inside,” touching on lack of motivation, feeling stuck and the desire to live life more freely. What can you say about the inspiration behind the song?
WINTER: “Fresh Air” started with Zach. We were in my studio during a storm and the windows were rattling. I kept joking on the mic that “A little fresh air would do you good.” I finished it pretty quickly after that. “Fresh Air” feels like the natural successor to “Don’t Live Inside,” taking steps forwards to get unstuck.
LUNA: Lastly, what do you want listeners to take away when they listen to Mourning Routine?
WINTER: The vinyl.
