By Owen Tindall

When Greg Mendez starts the songwriting process, it begins either with a chord change or a melody that just feels right. 

 “I don’t really know what the lyrical content of the song is going to be until I find a line that I think sounds good or feels emotional in some way with the melody, and then I kind of build it up around that.”

His latest effort, Beauty Land, — released May 29th via Dead Oceans — is a patchwork collection of stories and memories that show off the craft and sensitivity of the Philadelphia-based, DIY indie folk artist.

When I sat down to talk with Greg about the album, it wasn’t long before he referenced his punk rock roots. 

“I got into music through punk rock, that was the first kind of music that I really, like, fell in love with, and kind of changed my life, a lot of under-two-minute songs, albums that are like 20 to maybe 25 minutes. I feel like I’m very influenced by that, even though it doesn’t always sound like it.”

Even if the sound isn’t there, the groundwork is. Beauty Land consists of 14 tracks in 26 minutes, no one song takes more than three minutes. If you ask Greg, the album is even shorter than that. 

“I kind of just feel like it’s one, maybe two songs… I would encourage listening to it all the way through. I feel like in particular, it’s more of an album-oriented album, even then like the last one… I feel like it will be best appreciated in its whole form.”

And that’s how he wrote and organized the album. There’s an unexplainable, but everpresent throughline, merging the themes and ideas together. Addiction, loss, religion, forgiveness, alienation; always hiding around the corner. Of the 14 songs, most have very few lines. For example, the sixth track, “Frog,” contains only Mendez’s haunting vocals, echoing “Please forgive me, for my faults.” 

Sometimes, I see Greg more as a storyteller than songwriter. It’s one big fable he’s telling, each song a piece of a larger puzzle, a puzzle that fits together in the shape of Greg Mendez. But when I ask him about the vulnerability in his writing, he makes it clear not all of the songs he writes are about him.

“I do like to keep it unclear, what is autobiographical and what isn’t… it kind of protects people from finding themselves in the songs.”

Greg Mendez

Mendez shields the listener, keeping them from internalizing anything. Instead, he places the burden on himself. It’s admirable.

“I mean, it does feel good to get the evil out.” Mendez says. “I know that feeling, where you’re like, you just realized that you’re the thing that’s standing in your way. I’ve watched a lot of other people go through that feeling too.”

That honesty and openness is a calling card for Greg; a big reason his music stands out among his peers. He’s been through it all, and his experiences shape his songwriting, making it resonate that much more. His music — light in content, but dense in subtext — contains cheerful vocals and bright melodies. But somehow, the music maintains a melancholic feel to it. Style in opposition of meaning, something very difficult to pull off. For Mendez, it’s natural. 

“I think it’s just what I gravitate towards, it’s not really a conscious choice. I do like pop melodies, and I like things that feel good, but also, I’m definitely attracted to a darkness in things. Maybe it’s just like the idea of Beauty Land. You know, it’s like nice pop melodies, dark reality underneath.”

Greg expands on these thoughts looking at Beauty Land as a whole. 

“I thought it really captured this false American Dream thing that we have. We’re kind of told that things are one way, and they’re clearly not. It’s like a false hope, an idea of something that’s maybe unattainable or not true.”

That dissonance in his music is pulled from the tapestries of his life. Beauty Land emerges out of the contradictions and disappointments Greg is all too familiar with. Releasing demos on Myspace as early as 2006 (“Everybody Wants To Be Your Friend (Except Me)” was written in 2011), it wasn’t until 2015 that Greg finally got clean from drugs, and made songwriting his full time job. Now it’s what he lives for. 

These realities of his are peppered all over the album. The lead track, “I Wanna Feel Pretty,” is full of heartbreak. In the song’s music video, Greg stumbles through empty suburbia in the early hours of morning. Dormant cardboard cutout houses seem to mock him. 

Greg sings:

“I got a new job and it’s not too sweet /

Last night I got robbed as /

I walked through the streets at a quarter til three /

when no one’s around except someone like me.”

He’s too hard on himself. When I ask him what he does to feel pretty, he responds: “I don’t know. I try not to look in the mirror.” Self-deprecation fills the album, and the recesses of Greg’s mind. Always quick to judge, this criticism he possesses gives him and his music a distinct, uniquely personal edge.

On the album’s final song, “Concussion” — which he wrote in 2020 and couldn’t find a place for on his self-titled 2023 album — he sings about kicking a friend out of his place:

“Felt so sure and then it felt so wrong /

I felt so sure before I felt so wrong /

I’m all right but won’t be for too long /

He’s got a couple tricks to pull before he’s gone”

Mendez floats on his electric keyboard, singing softly about the decision he had to make. It doesn’t come easy, and there’s no hiding the subtle tension in his voice. But the keyboard’s tune invites a brighter future. All we have to do is trust Greg to guide us there.