Los Angeles after hours has a certain tranquility that most do not understand. The traffic decreases, the sound of palm trees against one another stops responding, and the air smells faintly of asphalt and flowers. Madison Margot begins But I Do at that moment you believe you’ve moved past where you once were and your body is laughing at you before your lips have even moved.
As a fifth-generation Angelino, it’s less of a fact to mention, and more of a forecast. Madison has witnessed how the sun sets and then sets again. Everything around her (guitars at eleven, bedrooms, and notebooks full of ideas) eventually becomes like the glow of a fire, slowly losing color as it fades. When everything has been ruined, there is no explosion; only the ashes settling like the last remnants of a summer night in a window somewhere. And when everything is burned down comes the inability to move forward. You sense it in Madison’s voice when she hesitates on the first line; it is sweet and cautious at the same time as if she is afraid she will fall through the floor beneath her feet.
No mentor is swooping. No sage advice. Just separation: England, other rooms, other accents. And the understanding that geography does not heal a wounded spirit. When the tracks finally open up, they slowly bud, like mist rising off the asphalt. The drums again come late, tiptoeing softly as if they do not want to disturb her thoughts. This is the chasm. The moment of relapse; the static of television in the early morning hours; your phone face down on the table and knowing exactly who you will not text—yet doing so anyway.
Then, there is a shift in the temperature. The chorus does not erupt; it exhales. She allows herself to feel everything, which somehow seems to be more courageous than flirting with the idea that it is over. The video illustrates this gentleness; the movement appears to be reminiscent of a memory that has not yet died. The merchandise has a worn, understated aesthetic, which epitomizes the minimalist ethos of the song. The merchandise has neither excess nor mystery.
By the conclusion, Madison Margot has not been reborn as a brand-new being. Instead, she has emerged more evolved, and honest. Although she is in the same city, and the same body as before, she has assumed a different stance. We continue to wait—not for closure, but, for the next signal. The signal is approaching; you can feel it in the static.
Interview: But I Do
1- When you talk about “emotional relapse,” it feels like you’re naming something most people try to pretend doesn’t happen. What was the exact moment — smell, place, memory — that pulled you back into that old version of yourself and sparked “But I Do”?
I heard something about someone from my past, and it stirred up feelings I thought I had moved away from. It reminded me that two things can be true at once. You can be doing really well and still feel the pain of the past. That moment sparked “But I Do.” The chorus came to me right away, and I grabbed my guitar and let it pour out, because acknowledging the feeling felt more honest than pretending it wasn’t there!
2-Your vocals on this track have that honey-slow ache, like someone trying to soothe a bruise they caused themselves. How long did it take you to find that tone, that specific temperature the song needed?
I really wanted my vocals to ride the production like a wave. I tried out different levels of emotion while recording the chorus and ultimately settled on a smooth, vulnerable tone to show how these thoughts pass through my head so effortlessly.
3- You’ve said the song embraces feeling everything fully, but there’s also that flicker of resistance in it. When you write, do you fight the feeling first, or do you let it steamroll you?
I think the song perfectly demonstrates not wanting to feel something but just accepting that you do. I never censor my feelings when writing because, usually, I am writing in a heightened state. A state where I just need to get it all out!
4- The video feels like a dream that knows it’s a dream — soft edges, that lingering stillness. What conversations were happening with your (female) director behind the scenes that shaped that emotional palette?
The video was directed and edited by me this time around! I wanted it to be feminine. I wanted it to be visually delicious. I really needed to get this song out before the end of the year, so I did the song and video all in the span of about a month! It was a really beautiful thing to feel my creativity just fly.
5- You grew up in L.A., fifth-generation — so much concrete, static, and sun-bleached memory baked into that. How does the city show up in your songwriting, especially in moments when you’re trying to outrun your own past?
I love LA, and I believe it’s a city that supports dreamers and artists more than anywhere else in the world. I feel most comfortable creating here because it is my essence. It’s where I’m allowed to have the most crucial conversations with myself and feel the most feelings.
6- You’re intentional about working with women on the visual side. How has that changed the way you see yourself, or the way the industry tries to shape you?
I really love the comfort that working with women provides. It allows for more movement and freedom. It allows me to be my most productive self. Women are so creative, and I feel very fortunate to have worked with so many.
7- There’s a quiet ache in the production — almost like a collapse that’s been cushioned. What sonic references or emotional guideposts were you carrying in the studio?
I really wanted the kick drum to persist throughout the entire song, like a steady, anxious ache that won’t leave you. Then, when the final section comes in, the acoustic guitar stands alone as a release and a surrender from those anxious feelings. I wanted the song to feel dreamy, which comes through in the electric guitars. Every part of the song was intentional.
8- You spent years in England, soaking in those scenes, that weather, that melancholy. Do you feel that London fog lingering in your songwriting now, even in the heat of Los Angeles?
Not as much anymore! I definitely feel like I’m back to just being a valley girl, which is exactly what I needed. I admire the English artists such as Sam Fender and Olivia Dean! But I feel like that part of me is gone.
9- “But I Do” feels like it sits right in the pocket between pop clarity and slow motion confession. When you’re writing, who are you talking to? Yourself? A ghost? Someone who still doesn’t deserve an answer?
I wrote this song for myself in a really crucial, emotional moment. But now it feels like it’s for all the girls who overthink and feel deeply, and for my friends too. We were all finding out wild things our exes were doing this summer, and I was inspired by our venting sessions and heart-to-hearts. Who I’m talking to when I write is always changing. Sometimes it feels like I’m writing to the muse, and sometimes I’m writing just to understand myself better. It’s always changing!
10- You’ve been praised by Wonderland, LADYGUNN, Rolling Stone India, you’ve played the rooms that test people — Madame Siam, Peppermint, Viper. At what point did you realize your vulnerability wasn’t a liability but the whole damn engine?
We are nothing if we are not being honest with ourselves and others. Being vulnerable is what gets us through. It’s the only way to heal and grow. Storing emotions inside will just delay the good that is inevitably on the way.
11- The merch shirt tied to the LA Food Bank — it feels less like branding and more like a quiet gut-check. What pushed you to fold the community into this release cycle?
There are so many people suffering right now. So many people can’t afford their bills or food. I just wanted to give back to the city that I love, even in this tiny way. I’m always looking for ways to give!
12- Every artist has that abyss moment — the one you don’t post about, the one that changes how you play a guitar string after. What was yours?
There’s a lot that I don’t post about, and things most people would never know. Those experiences helped me realize how precious life is, and they pushed me toward living as honestly, adventurously, and freely as possible. When it comes to writing music, I don’t filter how I’m feeling ever. I approach it as getting everything out, so that I never regret not saying what I really wanted to say.
13- When listeners press play on “But I Do,” what do you want them to feel in their chest by the time the first chorus hits?
It’s the kind of song that lands if you’ve been there. It’s hard to explain, but it’s very much an if you know, you know feeling. More than anything, I hope people find comfort in it.
14- And finally — not future hype, just inevitability — what’s the next version of Madison stepping out of the smoke right now? The one we haven’t met yet.
I am entering this new chapter with no fear. I’m not going to hold myself back anymore. I am so grateful that being creative is what I get to do for a living, and I will make sure I embrace every single moment of that.
The Hollywood Six 