Logic1000 on Catholicism, Repairing Relationships, and Walking Away from Optimization

This is a free post from Larry Fitzmaurice's Last Donut of the Night newsletter. Paid subscribers get one or two email-only Baker's Dozens every week featuring music I've been listening to and some critical observations around it, along with a Screen Memories column every one or two weeks where I write about stuff I watched lately.

Here's what's going on today: I really enjoyed the last conversation I had with Samantha Poulter, who makes euphoric dance-pop with her partner Tom McAlister as Logic1000, around her 2024 record Mother, she was an extremely open and honest interview subject. So when her new album Confirmation! (which hits all ears this very day) was announced, I knew I had to invite Samantha back in the booth for a second round of chatting—and sure enough, Samantha was more than forthcoming about the personal circumstances that brought about her latest album, making for an excellent chat that I'm happy to bring to y'all today. Check it out:

Where are you living these days?
In London. I remember telling you last time that we were going to move back to London, and it finally happened probably two months ago.

How are you re-settling in?
Good. When I used to live here seven or eight years ago, I was such a different person and I just wasn't ready for a city like London—being so introverted, anxious, and easily overwhelmed. So it was nice coming back here this time around and having the maturity to be in a city like this. It just feels good. You live in New York, right?

I do.
I imagine that's a city so full of life. London's similar in that way—well, at least compared to sleepy Berlin.

Your child is four now, right?
She is, and turning five in October and starting school in two days.

How do you feel about sending your kid off to school? I have a few friends who are parents undergoing the same change. On the one hand, it's a relief for them in terms of free time. On the other, they feel like a little sad about it too.
I'm similar. I'm so happy for her, because she's so ready—and she's determined to be a doctor. I'm like, "Wow, how do you even know that now?" So I'm excited, because she can work towards something. I went to school without any objective. I just cruised through it and didn't really stick to anything. But I'm feeling so scared, too. It's such a big deal, for parents to let go of their children like that. Probably the next time that happens is when they do leave home—the nest—which is another milestone I'm frightened of. But it's an exciting thought for her, because in these milestones they become closer to finding themselves. It's just part of life, and in that way, it's a good lesson. There's probably going to be aspects of school that are really challenging, but ultimately it's a really positive thing.

With this record, you're drawing from a few very specific sounds to my ears. Talk to me about what you were channeling here.
With this album, it wasn't a particular genre or era that we were channeling—it was more a bit of everything. I know in the past, it's been a bit of every type of dance music, but this time I expanded it and was like, "I want to make stuff that's a collection of all of the music I've consumed over the years." That stems from the music my parents would put on during childhood, right up to my indie phase where I'd listen to the Shins and earlier indie from New Zealand—Dunedin specifically. There's this feeling that comes from ihe album that, to me, sounds quite '80s for some reason.

Let's talk about your earliest experiences engaging with dance music.
I would've been maybe in my early 20s. Mosca was a big one for me, and DMZ. I mean, the obvious one is Burial. Objekt was pretty massive in making like an impression on me, as well as Mala's solo stuff. Is that similar to what you got into?

I'd say so. For people our age, Burial was a huge thing in terms of opening your mind up to what dance and electronic music could be. Because we're a generation that has gone back to nostalgia in so many different ways over the years, Burial was also one of those things where it was like, "Oh, this is nostalgia presented in an entirely new way." Somebody who's really fashioning something new out of old sounds. It all feels like it already existed, but it also feels like it never did.
It was almost like an uncanny valley thing. Is this from the past or the future? Those Burial releases around that time, it was also pre-social media, and no one was really doing the completely anonymous thing. It was a really important time for dance music. I don't know about you, but during that time, I felt so excited and inspired by everything that was coming out. Almost weekly, there was something that would floor me.

I think that was very palpable, and I do find myself wondering what that sensation is like for people who are the age now that we were back when. Of course, the knee-jerk reaction is to be like, "It used to be like this, and now it's not."
That's a specific age, your early 20s. You're so much more bright-eyed, less jaded. I found I had fewer opinions on stuff, and that sort of naivety is so beautiful. At that time, you're with your friends and you're all in this community listening to the same stuff and feeding off each other's recommendations. There's a different energy around it—because, I don't know about you, but it's a very different experience now for me.

You mentioned the notion of anonymity in music before, which is certainly much less of a thing now than it was back then. Let's dig into the act of persona when it comes to you being a public-facing musician, and how it's evolved from the early days of Logic1000.
Nothing was really considered. I just made some tunes and didn't put much thought into it being anything more than releasing on my friend's label. I wanted to be on the EP cover because I loved this photo of Sade where she was doing that move. It wasn't a conscious thing where I was like, "I want to make my face seen on the EP cover," but that was very like visible. Because Tom and I have been making music together from the very start. I actually said to him, "Why can't we both be the face of this? We're making it together." He didn't want to. He's a bit more private than me. At the time of making that music, I was extraordinarily introverted and highly anxious—mildly unwell, mental health-wise. it's kind of bizarre that I ended up being like the person who was front-facing while he was behind the scenes.

Let's talk more about yours and Tom's creative partnership, as well as your relationship in general.
I can't talk about it without talking about our romantic relationship, because we had like a good eight years of being in a romantic relationship before we started making music—many years of understanding each other and what our taste is. We're very aligned across the board when it comes to aesthetics or creative practices. That helped with coming together for Logic1000, because having that basis for our relationship—understanding who each other are at its deepest core—meant that when we got into the studio, it would be this very seamless thing where we knew what the other person wanted.

Obviously, there were times when we were in the studio before this album where we'd butt heads, because we both had very strong opinions when it came to the minutiae. But we knew each other and how to resolve conflict, so it'd be fine. Coming into this new album was new territory for us, because we both had indie phases outside of dance music but we'd never made that type of music together. Because this record was an amalgam of all of these things, there was a bit of naivety when we were in the studio, which made it just so much more fun.

The record's title is a gesture towards the Catholic sacrament of confirmation. Talk to me about how that ties into your relationship with spiritualism and religion.
My father was an atheist, and my mother's side of the family was deeply Catholic and religious. I grew up going to church with my mom every Sunday, and it was part of my identity and culture. Even at 16 years old, my cousin and I would go visit my grandmother at her church over the summer holidays and teach Sunday school—so I was pretty deep in it. But I sort of lost connection with God for a while and got into experimenting with things. My life turned a bit shit during that period.

Later in life, I realized that [Catholicism] is part of my identity. There's obviously so many things wrong with the Catholic Church, but thankfully I come from a Catholic family who are deeply compassionate and open-minded—they're not, like, fundamentalists or anything like that. There's so much beauty in religion and faith, because. the world is so complex, infinite, and strange that like I need something like a belief in God to ground me. I wanted to call the album Confirmation! as a nod to that side of my history as well as the concept of confirmation. It's a nice thought: Being confirmed in who I am at the moment, with my past and the sum of all my experiences.

Was there an exact moment where you had this reconnecting in terms of faith?
It's been peppered throughout my history over the past 10 years or so, going through a few key traumatic experiences. I've always been like, "Oh, God"—but I was literally praying to God. If I really pinpoint the moment, it would've been after having Jeannie, my daughter. There was a year where I lost contact with my mom and developed a lot of hatred towards her. I think that had to happen for some reason. I don't know why. But after going through that, I came full-circle and realized all the wonderful things about my mom were connected, somehow, to her spiritual identity. That year where I wasn't talking to her and had so much hate inside my body, I blamed her for all of it—and then at one point, I was like, "Oh, God, I got it all wrong." Now, we're best friends, I've reconnected with God, and it's all good. It had nothing to do with her or religion or faith—it was a "me" thing. I have a lot of regret about that period of time because our parents are getting older, and that's a whole year of life and experiences that I missed out on. She had an operation during that time, and I wasn't there for her. It's an awful blip that happened.

The bio materials mentioned the notion of being aligned with the current version of yourself. Talk to me more about what that means for you these days.
Probably my whole adult life, I've been striving towards some complete version of myself. I wouldn't have thought of it in my head as perfection, but that's probably what I was striving for—optimization, which my whole doomscroll feed was focused on. Whether it be health or creative practice, I feel like, in this moment, who I am right now, I can relax on that a bit and just know that, in every moment, I am awake and alive.

It comes back to this religion thing that I got from my family, and how I reconciled with my mom. In any given moment, I approach things in life with love, gratitude, and kindness—all these things that life should be about. I feel like that's enough. You don't need to be this fully-optimized, robotic person. That's kind of a type of actualization—realizing that you are enough. We all are. As long as the undercurrent is of service and leading with joy, it's enough to feel confirmed in that belief.

You have a Substack and a podcast. Talk to me about the work that goes into maintaining both of those creative outlets.
Writing is something very new to me. I don't think I'm ready to call myself an actual writer at this point, but I enjoy the practice of it, and I excited by that side of my creative practice. Every time I make time for it, I always come out of it invigorated—and the same thing goes for my podcast. Both of them represent what I'm going for at the moment, which is investing my time in the stuff that sparks joy. I want to keep nurturing that stuff, and I feel so lucky to be able to do it.

I'd love to hear you talk about your current relationship with social media. In terms of the music industry's demands, it's felt for a while like it's not enough to just be a musician anymore, and being online is definitely part of that.
My relationship with it changes all the time—sometimes daily. Generally, I only try to post when I feel inspiration to do so. But during a release campaign, you do have to post a little more. Thankfully, so far I've really loved posting, because Tom and I had creative directed the whole campaign ourselves. It feels like a nice side of our expression that we can show to the world, and a reflection of the vision we had for the album. I adore the old visuals we've had, but there's something so special about having done it yourself when it's something you've never done before.

I wanted to quit social media not that long ago. I was like, "I'm done." It's a toxic place, and I thought about what it's like in the progressive left, when people attack each other rather than the powers that be. All the infighting was getting me down. Then I realized that social media can actually be a really great tool for unifying and building a cohesive community. If I'm not engaging with this infighting, and I'm only engaging with the community aspect and leading with joy and love—without sounding too hippie, I mean, why not?