Chicago-based singer-songwriter and multi-instrumentalist Sacha Mullin has built a distinctive musical identity through a career shaped by art-rock, jazz, experimental sounds, and intricate vocal arrangements. Across his previous releases, Mullin has demonstrated a willingness to explore unconventional musical territory while maintaining a strong sense of melodic expression. Now, with his fourth album, Social Touch, he embraces a more pop-forward direction, bringing greater intimacy and immediacy to his songwriting without abandoning the complexity that has defined his work. The album reflects a period of personal and artistic reassessment, exploring the difficulties of human connection, emotional vulnerability, communication, and the quiet frustrations that accumulate in everyday relationships. Working with William Parker Wood proved instrumental in shaping its sound, allowing Mullin to create arrangements that give his songs more room to breathe. His expressive vocal approach remains central, moving between restraint and intensity while revealing new shades of his artistry. Drawing inspiration from a wide range of musicians, including Kate Bush, Joni Mitchell, George Michael, and Jeff Buckley, Mullin continues to develop a sound that resists easy classification.
In this exclusive interview, he discusses the creative evolution behind Social Touch, his influences, collaborative relationships, and the personal reflections driving his latest musical chapter.
AVOLA: Your fourth album, Social Touch, marks a move toward a more pop-forward sound after years of working across art-rock, jazz, and experimental music. What did you feel your previous approach could no longer give you as a songwriter, and what did pop allow you to express that you hadn’t fully explored before?
Sacha Mullin: Part of me really wants to argue that my music has always been pop, and the other part of me is fully willing to admit that this is the poppiest thing yet. I seldom consciously think about making music as “jazz” or “art-rock,” but I think my approach to arranging was very much influenced by a need to be declarative and firm. My older records consequently had more obvious rock or piano-driven sounds at times. Very thick layers of harmonies. And drums. I really love drums. Looking back, I hold a lot of pride in my albums, but I can also recognize that some of my earlier arrangements could be so declarative or dense, particularly in the instrumental bed, that the songs themselves could occasionally become obscured. I certainly felt this way with Whelm. I could get a little lost in transit, so to speak. Duplex fared better in a lot of regards. And I think I reached a point with Casino Wilderness Period where I felt I’d finally realized what I wanted to accomplish within that particular sound. Casino is a great body of work. Todd Rittmann is a genius. And when you’ve finally climbed Mt. Everest and made the album you’ve been dreaming of making, where do you even go from there? You can only dream more. So I found myself really meditating on what I might be craving as a soul, rather than from the perspective of a singer-songwriter. I discovered a need for even more intimacy, a greater sense of connection as a narrator, and, perhaps more importantly, a greater opportunity for human connection with anyone who came across my work.
So going back to using genre as an assignment, I’ll contradict myself a little and say this was one of the few times I went into a project thinking, “OK. This is the pop album.” Even then, though, there was a certain amount of ambiguity in that idea that I found attractive. Because what does pop even mean, you know? Pop music, regardless of decade, has an immediacy to it. Don’t bore us, get to the chorus, and all that. There’s a hook, and there’s a way of making something linger. What I wanted in leaning this way was to be understood and to solicit empathy from the listener, maybe with a little dance groove here and there. Working with William [Parker Wood] for this project proved to be pivotal in this mission. William inspired a lot of gold. I don’t necessarily think my approach to writing changed so much as I made a conscious decision to develop my arranging skills to better serve the kind of pop I wanted to make. I’ve become more interested in direct communication without becoming any less interested in complexity. I think I’ve simply become better at finding the right musical language to serve what I’m trying to communicate. In opening up the windows, so to speak, I’d like to think I haven’t abandoned anything about myself. I’m just revealing more shades of something I’ve always been genuinely interested in. There are still moments on Social Touch that end up a little more left field, but I’m not going out of my way to be quirky. My songs come naturally to me.
AVOLA: Your music has often been associated with artists like Kate Bush, Jeff Buckley, and David Sylvian, but your influences also include Joni Mitchell and Geike Arnaert. How have those different approaches to melody, vocal expression, and songwriting shaped Social Touch, and were there any influences you deliberately resisted while making it?
Sacha Mullin: It’s incredibly kind to be included in any conversation that names those musicians. Joni, Kate, David, and Jeff are great. They’re all musicians with strong identities and beautiful curiosity. George Michael is another enormous influence, and someone I’ve been compared to throughout my career, which I’ve always taken as a great honor. He’s also got a name check here in the chorus of “Tears Into Platinum,” partly inspired by a critic who once said I was like “George Michael fronting Gong.” And Geike is a particularly brilliant singer who deserves more flowers. There’s a significant amount of intimacy in her singing. She simmers and elongates certain sounds, and can be succinct on a dime. There’s both an earnest cry and a kind freedom to her voice; a measuredness that rides alongside abandon. She almost ribbon-dances her way around a melody. I tried in a few of the Social Touch songs to summon some of her energy.
And on that point, I’ll admit that there are moments in my own work where, despite not sounding obviously similar, I’ve tried to inhabit some of what I’d describe as vocal choreography, approaching a song in a way I imagine she might phrase it if she were singing it herself. It’s an interesting exercise to inhabit another singer’s energy and interpretive sensibility for the benefit of your own work without trying to assimilate them. I learn so much simply by listening! I don’t think there was really anything I was trying to resist in terms of outside influences. If anything, I was trying to resist some previous tendencies of my own that I didn’t think fit with the mission of this album. The only things I resisted were ideas that didn’t grab me or that felt labored. Otherwise, I kept my ear to the ground, trying to take in more and more. I still do!
AVOLA: You have a reputation for a vocal style that can move from restrained, almost delicate phrasing to extraordinary intensity. When you’re writing a song, do you begin with the emotional demands of the lyrics, the melody, or the physical possibilities of your voice? Has your approach to singing changed on this album?
Sacha Mullin: I can’t say I’ve ever really started from a place of considering my vocal ability. Rather, the demands of the material tend to unlock or summon places my voice might go, regardless of whether I’ve written it myself. I feel a great deal of facility with my singing these days, but there’s still so much to discover. And much of that discovery comes through stories, whether they’re found in lyrics or simply in impressions of sound. So actually, I guess the main place I come from is mood. I think a lot about storyboarding and contrasts. That’s universal to everything I do, and I doubt that will ever change. With this album, though, I was particularly conscious of tone color. I sing with a bit more darkness in my placement on some older songs, whereas here, because of the way the songs were taking shape, I knew I needed a cleaner, brighter placement. It felt more suited to the pop sensibility I was moving toward, and I found that challenge pretty exciting.
AVOLA: Across your previous albums, you’ve consistently moved between different musical worlds rather than settling into one recognizable sound. With Social Touch, was there a particular moment when you realized your songwriting was changing, or did this pop-forward direction emerge gradually through the writing process?
Sacha Mullin: I went in with some playlists I’d made that acted as little mood boards, which I shared with Will. Something I found interesting about putting them together was realizing how easy it was for me to assemble them. This whole vocabulary of music has always been with me as a listener, so I knew what I liked and what I wasn’t so fond of. Sometimes those qualities have a vocabulary of their own, and sometimes they’re intangible. What do we call that, a vibe? (laughs) So part of this was certainly gradual. I was learning to allow myself to arrange this way, and realizing I could maybe give myself the freedom to dig even further. It’s a balancing game of exploring new areas while retaining a sense of self. But I suppose there was a particular moment that gave me a push: receiving the Chicago Reader award for Best Pop Artist. I thought, well, if Chicago is going to call me its Best Pop Artist, I’d better make good on that title!
AVOLA: The album title, Social Touch, suggests both human connection and the difficulty of achieving it. Does that tension run through the record’s songwriting, and were you consciously exploring how people perform intimacy, hide vulnerability, or struggle to communicate with one another?
Sacha Mullin: I wasn’t really intending this to come off as a concept record, which is kind of funny, because these themes have been present throughout my songwriting from the beginning. But in the however-long between albums, I’d really been put through the wringer with these thoughts. It felt like everything in life had a tension to it. There was so much loss, some unspoken betrayals, and a compounded sense of helplessness on a global scale. If people had the courage or stamina to speak with sincerity and intention, so many problems could be prevented. Instead, presumptions and words, I don’t know… fester? There are times when you choose your battles, and other times when you want to confront something but you’re just so tired from everything accumulating.
Sometimes, I’d argue, people hide themselves inside a committed role, going through the motions rather than engaging sincerely with the people around them. “Mime” touches on that frustration, with its insistence to “just say thank you.” There’s something particularly exhausting about feeling that even a simple expression of gratitude is too much to ask. And the song gets darker and darker as it progresses, almost following that desperation toward its breaking point. “Bed All Day” approaches intimacy from a different angle. Despite what the title might suggest, the verses aren’t necessarily romanticizing closeness; they’re more concerned with how disconnection gets in the way of happiness.But all of this tension… it’s like a barrage of push notifications on your phone, but in real life. Where do you even begin? How much of that tension do you internalize? I think a lot of my need to make music comes from wanting to explore those tensions, and then consciously reflect on them later. I sometimes find myself alarmed by the lyrics I’m writing, but I stand by them knowing they’re always coming from a truthful, observational place. And ultimately, it’s a place that just wants to survive and get towards peace and love.
AVOLA: You’ve worked with Emily Bindiger across multiple projects, and she returns on “Hypocenter.” What makes a long-running musical relationship creatively sustainable? Does writing or arranging for a familiar collaborator reveal parts of your own music that you might otherwise overlook?
Sacha Mullin: I’m really honored any time I get to work with someone like Emily. I think the sustainability you’re referencing comes from an admiration not only of someone’s talent, but even more so of who they are as a person. When you know someone who can make you laugh, someone who makes you feel, someone who knows their way around a Scrabble board and a vintage glassware hutch, but can also sing with honesty and exploration, both as a feather and a supernova, that’s someone worth cherishing. And what’s cool about writing for someone like Emily is that she’s had a ton of adventures with her talent. She has a voice with a stunningly distinctive character, but it can also be translucent and just as supportive. It’s an inspiring voice, just as much as she’s an inspiring person.
And yes, it’s definitely revealing when it comes to my own music, because I know my boundaries as a singer. Emily can do things I either can’t comfortably do myself, or that would simply sound better with her particular timbre and delivery. You end up finding these beautiful additional colors to play with when working with another singer, and it can elevate the atmosphere so much. Emily will razz me about some of the things I ask of her to track, and her late husband Robbie [Kondor] used to joke, “Better you than me!” But it’s hugely meaningful that she sees so much in me, just as I do in her.
AVOLA: You’ve spent years building a catalog that moves between experimental rock and intricate vocal composition, yet you’ve also been recognized as Chicago’s Best Pop Artist. Does that recognition reflect how you understand your music, or does it reveal a gap between how audiences categorize artists and how artists actually work?
Sacha Mullin: Oh, definitely the latter. But music can be difficult to define. It’s ephemeral, and sometimes there’s visual culture that goes along with it, too. And I will admit that I find it difficult to fully classify what it is I’m doing. Maybe that’s because I’m too close to the source material? It’s so easy for me to write about other artists, though. Ultimately, I’m seldom trying to lean into one specific idea, because I’m more interested in synthesizing different ideas. That’s just how you end up developing your own sound. Whatever it is that I’m doing as a solo artist, I don’t want it to lack character. And if, in the great Rorschach test of defining me, I’m recognized as doing my best at something, and in this case: pop, I can’t help but feel honored.
AVOLA: Your career spans avant-rock ensembles, solo records, session work, and teaching. How has working as a vocal educator changed the way you think about your own performances? Has teaching ever forced you to reconsider a technique or instinct that you had previously taken for granted?
Sacha Mullin: Absolutely. Teaching and coaching are completely intertwined with how I see my own performances. I certainly try to lead by example, and amazingly, a few clients and students have come my way after seeing me sing, so that’s flattering. But more than that, when I’m working with people, I have to find ways to describe singing itself. There are the anchors of technical skill, and then there are questions that lead toward abstraction. It’s my job to help bring understanding while sustaining curiosity for everyone involved. That process keeps me present with myself and my own instrument. Having to articulate things that might otherwise come intuitively has made me more conscious of how I approach them. I’d like to think that, because of this, I’ve become more secure and certainly far more aware over the years of the parts of my voice and all the nuances around it that come naturally to me, as well as the parts of my voice and musicianship that I continue to work on, maintain, and explore.
AVOLA: The album’s physical editions include additional material, while the release campaign also brings in a cover of Alexz Johnson’s “Voodoo” and a remix by Chicago artist DJ Zeetus Lapetus. What interests you about allowing other musical perspectives to exist alongside your own work, and how do you decide which parts of a project should remain exclusive to particular formats?
Sacha Mullin: This is going to be a somewhat dry answer in parts, but sometimes it’s what the songs are “telling you,” sometimes it’s legal, and sometimes it’s just a matter of overall circumstances. If you’re doing a cover, you’re beholden to certain restrictions. With “Voodoo,” at the time I recorded it, the licensing information available through Harry Fox reflected physical rights only. The song’s original licensing had been set up years earlier, before streaming was really a serious consideration, and that information hadn’t been updated to reflect streaming rights. It had nothing to do with artistic approval, as Alexz said she loved my version. So while that kept it off streaming, at least for the time being, I’d reckon it also added to the specialness of a song that’s only available as the B-side of a 45, you know? I kind of like that mystique. I didn’t think the song needed to be on the album, but I wanted to celebrate it in a way that felt in sync with the rest of my current era. It’s a very special song to me. And so we’ll see what the future holds. Alexz now fully owns the rights to the album and is celebrating with a new vinyl issue of her whole Voodoo album.
By comparison, the “Bed All Day” remix was all-systems-go and a fully digital single, so it made sense to go that route. Working with Zeetus Lapetus was a really great opportunity to restructure the original, and bring a sort of bewitching trance to it all. Dawn turned to dusk. The bonus tracks “Tall Ask” and “Let’s Cruise!” were recorded after the initial album was finished, but I still had inspiration in me and some downtime. So the nerd in me felt that CDs and bonus tracks are a match made in whatever. (laughs) So anyway, they’re on the disc, as well as available on streaming. Together, those two tracks feel like an alternate ending, or a post-credits sequence. They complement and build on the world, but there’s a small fadeout before them. The original album feels complete to me on its own, while these tracks offer an extended experience.
AVOLA: After four solo albums, what do you think listeners still misunderstand about your music? With Social Touch, are you trying to reach a different audience, change the conversation around your existing work, or challenge your own assumptions about what a Sacha Mullin record can sound like?
Sacha Mullin: This is possibly one of the most interesting and thoughtful questions I’ve ever received, thank you. That said, it’s fairly difficult to answer, because I’m not my audience. Once you put something out into the world, it’s up to other people to make their own assessments about what they hear in you. So I can’t really dictate how I’m seen, but I’d like to persuade people to come along with me on the journey, and to see themselves in the work rather than simply coming away with an opinion about me. I will say that I usually try to downplay the framing of my approach as theatrical. I see what I’m doing as something more cinematic: putting my heart on my sleeve, but through a tight lens, rather than putting on a stage presentation. These energies and intentions are totally different, though I do get where people might be coming from. I’m a man singing with a lot of expression. There’s often a fullness to my voice. But I also think that characterization can inadvertently diminish the work of people whose primary discipline is theatre, which, while not my general lane, is an enormous, multifaceted undertaking that I respect. For some people, I’ve been too avant-garde, or, hilariously, not weird enough. Wherever I may sit for someone’s preferences, it’s an honor that someone spent their time with me. So all I can really do is make the music that comes to me and hope that it reaches listeners with an open heart.
Featured Image: Michael Izquierdo
