Remix caught up with Daniel Seavey when he was in Auckland and chatted everything life, music, and chaos on tour
After sitting down with Daniel Seavey, I can totally see why global audiences have fallen in love. Genuine, chatty, incredibly talented, and generally an open book, hearing Daniel speak about his career so far felt like catching up with a good friend I’d known for a lifetime. Here, the multi-instrumentalist talks about early busking days, losing his voice mid-tour, and his love for live performance.
Image via @danielseavey
Take us back to the start! How did your journey with music begin?
I was one of those weirdo kids who could hear a song and play it by ear at three or four years old. My parents noticed early on and even though we didn’t have much money, she found a toy piano at a garage sale, and I started playing songs on it. We couldn’t afford lessons, but in middle school orchestra, I’d practice at home pretending to play a “hair cello” because we didn’t own a real one. I’d imagine the notes in my head and ended up first chair in the orchestra. When I was about 10 or 11, I started busking on the streets of Portland. I loved performing in front of people, and the money I made went straight into buying more instruments. At 15, my dad used flight points to get me to an American Idol audition in San Francisco. I didn’t make it all the way, went home, and had a rough year—everyone at school called me “Idol boy.” That’s when I realised I’d do anything to make music my career. After playing in a band I started with a friend, I thought it might be time to walk from music, but I dropped a few solo songs, for myself more than anything. I saw it as a final chapter, but to my surprise, fans kept supporting me, and friends in the industry reached out. Things started happening again. You could say I caught my second wind, and I’m still lucky enough to make music for a living—which is amazing.
Image via @danielseavey
What's your creative process like?
A quick stretch gets me moving, but I have to work out every morning—that’s my caffeine because I’m allergic to coffee. As for my creative process, it’s pretty all over the place, kind of like me. I probably have ADHD, but I guess it comes with the creative space. Every song starts differently. Sometimes, it’s random—like the other day at the airport, a luggage cart was going by making this pulsing sound, and I thought, “That’s sick.” I pulled out my laptop on the plane and started working on it. Other times, it’s more basic, like hearing a lyric or a quote that sticks with me, and I just chase the words. It’s different every time.
Image via @danielseavey
So you started your world tour in March: how was the first half of your tour, and do you have any peaks and pits? Or standout memories?
Pit: I had to delay my tour because of a vocal haemorrhage, and it terrified me. I literally didn’t say a word for four weeks. I felt so bad for my girlfriend and friends during that time. The first week was rough, but after a while, it became kind of like a phone detox. At first, you hate it, but then you start to realise it’s actually pretty amazing. I found myself thinking a lot internally—it was therapeutic for a moment. But I definitely missed talking. Now, I’m back to 100%. Honestly, we were just overloading our schedule—it got way too hectic. But we’ve found a better balance now, and I can keep up. Ironically, the peak of my tour was also the pit—it was the day I lost my voice. It all happened 10 minutes before I was supposed to go on stage in Amsterdam. I was mid-conversation with a friend when my voice completely cut out. We delayed the show by 40 minutes because I didn’t want to cancel. It was the biggest show of my career, and Amsterdam crowds are legendary. I had just done the meet and greet, too, and I didn’t want to let those fans down. Miraculously, after about 40 minutes, my voice partly came back. I had maybe half my normal range, but we did the show. I sounded terrible, but the crowd was so loud and had such insane energy, they completely carried it. So yeah, it was the ultimate peak-pit situation.
Image via @danielseavey
What do you think of the crowd in NZ?
I feel like you guys have a really good balance—you’re respectful, but you also let those intrusive thoughts fly in the middle of a show, and I love that energy. In Europe, the crowds can be a bit more soft-spoken, and in the U.S., they can almost be too intrusive. But here, it feels perfectly balanced. You’re chillers, even outside of shows.
Image via @danielseavey
Tell us about your latest single, ‘Blame It On You?’
This is my favourite song I’ve ever made. I know I say that a lot, but this one really raised the bar. It feels like the kind of song that, if I heard it, I’d save it immediately—and that’s the goal, right? Every artist wants to make something their friends would bump, and they’d genuinely listen to themselves. It’s such an easy, energetic listen, and I’m dying to play it live for the first time tomorrow. It has this big, festival energy, which I love.
Image via @danielseavey
What would you say is your favourite part of your career and the life you get to live because of your music?
I live for the live show. It’s such a magical experience. I love making songs too, but what I really chase is that moment where I know a song is going to feel amazing in my show. That’s always what I’m aiming for—making the live experience even more special. I just love it. It’s the ultimate adrenaline rush.
Image via @danielseavey
Do you sometimes have an existential crisis before going on stage? Like omg, I put myself in this situation.
Oh my god, yeah—I’ve been there. Before I opened for Benson, I had only done one small solo tour about a year prior. I hadn’t been in front of a big crowd in probably three years. Then, the first show with Benson was in front of 10,000 people. I’ve never had a worse existential crisis. I remember looking up at the crowd, and it wasn’t even my own audience, which somehow made it worse. I was standing there thinking, “What are we doing? This is messed up.” I was almost mad at myself for putting me in that position—like, why did I sign up for this? But at that point, you’ve got no choice. You’ve got to go out there. It was wild.
Image via @danielseavey
What do you do to stay grounded through all the chaos?
Day-to-day, my manager is actually my older brother, Tyler. He definitely keeps me grounded in all the right ways. He’s the perfect person to go to for anything out here—whether it’s taking care of my health, making sure I’m balanced, or calling me out if my ego ever starts showing. It always comes from a genuine place. He doesn’t want me to be an ass, you know? That’s the beauty of having a family manager. We’re brothers first, so if we weren’t working together, we’d still be calling each other out and boxing it out anyway.
Quick-fire questions:
If you weren’t doing music, what weird niche hobby would you go pro in instead?
I actually wanted to be an architect—specifically to design bridges. Probably the nerdiest thing you’ve ever heard, but I was really good at math back then.
Do you have any meme or viral moments of you that still haunt you a little?
Apparently, I have a long neck. You don’t have to look at it—please don’t—but yeah, it’s a thing. Fans will bring me giraffe plushies as gifts, expecting it to be this sweet gesture, and I’m just standing there like, “This feels kinda messed up.”
What’s your pre-show ritual?
I don’t know, we don’t have any crazy pre-show rituals, but we do have a pretty sick handshake for good luck. We always do that before going on stage.
If you had to plan and play your final concert for the rest of time, how would it look and where would it be and why?
I really liked playing Radio City Music Hall in New York. That place has a crazy kind of magic to it—the energy, the aesthetic, everything. ICC in Sydney was another wild one. Such an insane venue.
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