MICHAEL MARCAGI

As I headed into New York City from central Long Island on a refreshingly warm winter’s day back in February 2022, I nervously anticipated the events of the evening. I’d been courted to review the set of a Midwest alternative band called The Heavy Hours, led by a scrappy upstart named Michael Marcagi, opening for established folk singer-songwriter Brett Dennen at the Bowery Ballroom, and was sent a (FREE!!!) ticket that I’d transferred into my Apple Wallet. It would be my first time attending a concert as anything but a fan.

What I was nervous about? Everything. 

I’d been to over 150 concerts by this point, so this environment was home to me, but, despite the low stakes of it all, I knew that if I wanted to be asked to do this again, I’d need to tell a story from an outsider’s perspective, and be… critical? Firm? Encouraging?

I wrote a review I’d probably scoff at now, but it was, ultimately, the first steppingstone for what was to come. I’ve gone on to review shows at venues such as Madison Square Garden and Radio City Music Hall, while Marcagi, who scored massive hits in 2024 with “Scared To Start” and “The Other Side,” now collaborates with The Lumineers and tours the world as a solo act. We’ve done alright.

Marcagi’s latest EP, Midwest Kid, is out now.

The Heavy Hours decided to part ways in 2023, though Marcagi saw the writing on the wall and began writing original material well before the disbanding. 

It wasn’t long before he scored a runaway folk hit with “Scared To Start,” now at over 600 million streams, and was catapulted out on the road for a solo tour throughout the summer of ‘24. With minimal solo material to his name at this stage, he needed to improvise, adding Heavy Hours songs, unreleased solo tunes, and covers of “déjà vu” by Olivia Rodrigo and “You’re Still The One” by Shania Twain to generate a headline set that crossed the hour mark. His New York show, a near sellout of Music Hall of Williamsburg, was an impressive big-city showcase, winning over the ardent hipster crowd with a performance that was equally endearing as it was desperate. For the New York stop of his most recent US run earlier this year, he tripled his venue capacity, moving to Webster Hall.

“‘Scared To Start’ had this moment out of nowhere, and I was still trying to figure out how to fill up even 45 minutes,” he says. “Trying to figure out who was going to play on the project, and who was going to be in the band. On this last tour, we got to really prepare and rehearse… it felt like we finally caught up with ourselves. In the band, the only tours we ever did were opening up for other people, and usually those weren’t very long. So, to play longer shows, and to do them every night, is exhausting, but I’m having the time of my life. To see people come to hear these songs and to sing along with ‘em, and to see every tour get a little bigger and better… that gives me the energy to keep going.”

On Midwest Kid, Marcagi narrows his conceptual reach, pinpointing distinct feelings of reflecting on guzzled memories of formative years in his hometown. Though the concept and lure of fame does not seem to weigh into his conclusions, the idea of dwelling on these matters upon returning home certainly plays a factor. “It’s funny being on tour for so long and coming home and everything is the same,” he says. 

The meat of this project, consisting of “Follows You,” “Midwest Kid,” and “Flyover State” most intensely depicts the bitter aftertaste of revisiting people and places one once felt they’d shed like old skin. 

“On this latest EP, I’m just writing about a more specific thing,” he says. “The songs from the first EP were written even before the band started. ‘Scared To Start’ had been a voice memo on my phone since I was 23. A lot of those themes were much broader. For this one, the theme was much more focused on growing up and being from the Midwest… and dealing with some of the things from my childhood. Even in the last year, I’ve experienced imposter syndrome. Being thrust into this music industry after years and years of no one listening to this music and then, all of a sudden, that changes.”

Despite an evident chip on his shoulder, his general insecurities remain when the curtain is lowered. “I just figured that no one wanted to hear what I had to say,” he says. “I didn’t feel important. For me, it was like the only important art was coming out of New York or LA. I figured in order to have your voice heard, you needed to be from a different point of view. But that changed with Noah Kahan’s record where he has arenas of people screaming about Vermont. Writing about specific themes and about your childhood and where you’re from are much more universal than people realize.”

On “Follows You,” he explores a more intricate facet of this emotional struggle. He sings of the inevitability of memories and old pitfalls of life at home chasing you throughout life, even as you make your way into the world. With the most ardent of conviction, he sings: “I run, and I run, and I run / Tryna’ change my point of view / Even a thousand miles from home you still know who let you down, who fucked you up / Yeah, you can run but that shit follows you.”

When asked if he felt it is, or has been, personally beneficial, in a motivational sense, or detrimental to hang onto the past, he took a moment to consider his answer. “I don’t think it’s too detrimental, and I’m not one to hold a grudge,” he says. “I tend to get over things decently quickly, but I’m also one of those people that something really bad could happen and I’m just like, ‘Yeah, it is what it is.’ I think it’s more about that… knowing that it’s okay for something bad in your life to happen if you can address it instead of and being like, ‘Oh, that’ll never affect me.’” 

The title track directly deals with feeling lost in a sea of everything and nothing, while craving the innocence of life with no consequence as a youth. He shouts the chorus in a way that creates a separation between melody and an active word vomit of pent-up fear and frustration. “We had another version that was calmer… in the lower register the whole time,” he says. 

Marcagi’s positioning as a clear upper tenor separates him from many of his peers in country music, many of them baritenors, allowing him the freedom to comfortably stretch his voice to reach the angst he desires on “Midwest Kid” and additional tracks off the project. “I’ve always had a higher voice, so I haven’t really been able to ever sing low in any way,” he says. “My producer David Baron, who I record all of this stuff with in upstate New York, is always pushing me to sing ‘less perfect’ and pretty when I sing up higher, and I think that’s what people relate to. It’s more raw. Wesley Schultz, from The Lumineers, who I’ve gotten close with, on a lot of his songs his voice is almost breaking. I’ve always loved that they’ve kept that realness.” The pair sing in unison in their upper registers for much of their collaboration, “Wish I Never Met You.”

On “Flyover State,” the summit of the project, Marcagi finds an impeccable vocal landing spot, musical pocket, and emotional delivery. From its opening mandolin motif paired with Marcagi’s reluctant, subdued delivery to its mid-song transition to full band, the tune is an automatic jolt of musical bliss: “Nine to five and five to nine, feeling like a factory line / And I’ve been spendin’ all my nights wasted and wastin’ my prime.”

“Some people we’d played it for thought that, both lyrically and musically, that was the song that was going to best represent this batch of songs.” To emphasize its weight, he performed it on Jimmy Kimmel just three weeks following its release, and delivered a commendable rendition despite his primetime jitters.  

Midwest Kid is a project that allows Michael Marcagi, an artist who did not allow the setback of his previous engagement to halt him in his tracks, the chance to engage with the past and present versions of himself. He gave himself permission to beat himself up and to talk himself down, but to ultimately acknowledge and interpret these exasperated emotions in a way that was rehabilitative. 

This music sends a clear message that goes against everything social media deems as reprehensible. They’ll say, ‘Pick yourself up and go.’ They’ll say, ‘If you’re bitter, you’re not growing.’

This music reveals that sometimes you need to be. Sometimes a particular type of drive can only be attained by a resentment that will not falter, even if no one else is there to fuel it. On this project, Marcagi embodied that resolve. Perhaps his next work will be equally as steadfast.  

Midwest Kid is out everywhere now. You can follow Michael Marcagi on Instagram here.