New York musician Aaron Maine details the exhilarating spark behind the recording process for “MASK”, his latest mixtape that ditches the autotune and soars for a sound that is raw and unrefined.

The combination of accessibility and convenience shapes the music-making and listening experience in the digital age. Streaming platforms give listeners an unlimited catalogue of music at their finger tips, while technology advancements equip artists with the ability to fabricate the bulk of a song’s existence and tweak every recording’s flaws. Yet beneath this creative malaise, this lack of limitation has prompted those most artistically articulate to seek out beauty in imperfection.

It wasn’t Aaron Maine’s intention to join that battle or create an anti-technology release with “MASK”, his latest under the musical alias Porches. But the May 2026 mixtape, recorded on his four-track tape recorder, settled itself into that narrative as its creation took form – embracing mistakes and showcasing the humanity behind each recording. 

“MASK” came to fruition after Maine’s head-banging 2024 album, Shirt. As some of his heaviest work to date, Shirt tampered heavily with computer-based production to reach its 90s grunge-inspired sound. Shifting from that piece of experimentation with glitchy guitars and his signature auto-tune, he rediscovered a four-track tape recorder hidden in his closet and decided to bring it to the studio to “maybe mess around with it,” he remembers. The sound of the first song recorded off “MASK” was immediately alluring to Maine, reminding him of how “extremely inspiring [it was] to make music not on a computer.”

Following a brief aside, in which he boasts admiration for Toronto’s street hot dogs, Maine dives into the lessons exercised and inspiration bestowed upon him through making “MASK” in an exclusive conversation with Wonderland.

Listen to “MASK”…

Read the interview…

You spoke of a special spirit that inhabited these recordings. How did that spirit present or manifest itself in you during this creative process? What feelings did it elicit for you as you were working on it?

It felt really freeing. I don’t know what your experience recording music is, but with the four-track, you have to record each part all the way through, rewind it, and record the second part all the way through. You have to have some idea of what the song is gonna be before you sit down, which already makes you make different decisions.

It was a really good exercise in accepting mistakes for the sake of the whole song or track. It’s so easy to over-edit things on the computer because you could change every word to a different take; you could do it 5,000 times and edit together a “perfect, in-tune take.” I feel like it sucks so much of the humanity out of the recording when it’s too perfect.

I had a lot of fun and no plans of making an album. I didn’t know if I was gonna put it out – I just got super hooked on it. I would go [to the studio] and make a song-ish a day – but I was not setting out to do that. Once I had an idea, I would scratch it out on the tape, and then I would bounce it to my computer.

I had probably made 20-25 tracks in that month or so. Then I put the four-track away and started working on some other stuff. I sat on it, and I knew in the back of my mind that I would want to put it out at some point. I think the spirit was that I felt really free, loose, and inspired by how the tape sounded.

I personally have no experience with recording music or making music; but having you walk me through the four-track recording process, it’s impressive to hear that you were able to experience all of that while bringing a sense of intention into every track.

It was so valuable to have that intention. Lyrically too. I love how fun, playful, dark, and weird the lyrics are. I was writing so much. I feel like it’s good when you have to force yourself to get the whole idea out. My brain was firing at a higher level because I wanted to get a recording of the song on the day that I made it or while I was super excited about it. Even with demos, you’re always trying to chase whatever the hell was going on the day you made it – that just feels so potent and powerful. Going back, I was like, “Maybe I’ll re-record some of these songs.” [But then] I was like, “No, they have to be exactly how they were that day.”

Were there any technological flaws or obstacles while recording on the four-track that ended up making the song work better or to an advantage that was unexpected for you?

In the end, most of them are some of my favourite parts of the whole thing. Even in “HABIT,” the drums being so bad in the beginning because I never played that beat before, I just had the idea of it. It makes me laugh and gives me different emotions and feelings than it would if it was perfectly locked in. And when the vocals are crackly or maybe a little out of tune, I think all of that stuff is, at least to me, very charming. It’s hard to realise it at the moment, but if you let it sit and listen to a perfect take or a more human take, you would probably gravitate towards the one that you can connect with.

That seems like why the mixtape was received so well; hearing that human element behind the music when everything is so polished nowadays. What do you believe imperfection communicates that perfection can’t?

I think it’s more relatable as a listener or a viewer. I guess it’s kind of corny, but no one is perfect, and everyone tries really hard to look or sound like they are. It’s a nice way to connect with a piece of art where you can feel the sort of hand, ideas, and physicality behind it. I thought it would be interesting to show that side of myself making music and share something a little more vulnerable and raw.

Rawness is inspiring and harder to come by these days, where you could squeeze anything through any number of technologies and shave all the edge and energy off of it for a dull finished product. I wanted to give a closer look at the process. I thought it sounded swagged out, weird, and different. It’s been really fun to put it out. Maybe there are a handful of people that might be like, “What is this pile of shit?” but I was surprised at the response because I think a lot of people really resonated with it and got what I was going for.

It’s awesome to see that too, especially with how it contrasts the way you made your last album. I was reading through comments on the Indieheads Reddit thread about “MASK”; someone said they’re happy to see the way you’re still stretching yourself with your music. How do you approach finding new avenues to experiment after releasing music for over a decade – where you still find excitement in the process?

I wish I knew what makes me tick like that. I just love making music so much. It’s so precious and important, and it guides my life. I’m so thankful to have this fire inside of me that gets me out of bed in the morning to do it in a new way. I’m just trying to keep it fun and exciting for myself; that’s always been my mindset. I’ve been lucky enough that, at the label I was with for ten years, no one has ever gotten too much of a say in what I make and has been okay with me experimenting, changing gears, or trying new stuff out. I try to keep it exciting for me because I don’t really see the point in continuing to spend 10 hours a day in the studio making something that isn’t fun.

I’m always chasing what feels inspiring, which 90% of the time, I have no idea what that’s gonna be until I stumble upon it. I’ll be like, “Oh, that feels really cool. I guess I should try and do more of that.” It’s a lot of experimenting and making a lot of bad stuff or stuff that I don’t think is good. I just still feel really inspired by writing music and recording it.

Would you consider this mixtape to be an attempt to move backwards with making music or a response to the present, where accessibility and convenience are often taking more precedence?

I do think what was really refreshing about it was moving back to basics. I feel like that’s a classically inspiring thing. If you feel distracted or overwhelmed or confused, it’s like, “Okay, well, I know how to make a song, I’ve recorded on a four-track before, and I’m sort of sick of the computer.” It just felt like a positive exercise for me to go back to basics, and that was my only intention.

I didn’t set out to make an anti-technology, anti-AI album or whatever. It just felt good, so I did it. It was a snap thing about a month before it came out where I was like, “This has got to come out now.” I listened through it for the first time in a long time and felt like it was perfect. Keeping in line with not overthinking was a huge part of it. With the release, I didn’t want to do a deal; I was ready to do it on DistroKid, pick a date and upload it.

I think I understand why some people have mentioned or talked about it in relation to technology today and stuff, but it felt good personally to explore making music like that again. Every decision I made, even with the music video; if it didn’t feel fun, easy, and cool – I was barking up the wrong tree or doing something wrong. It feels really rewarding to follow that intuition, which is pretty easy to follow if you can cut through second-guessing yourself or a lot of the other noise around making and releasing stuff.

What were you able to discover about your process and yourself from intentionally giving up the accessibility to technically control the imperfections on the recordings for “MASK”?

It was huge. I learned so much and remembered so much about recording music, specifically, and also the other parts that go along with releasing and making stuff around it. I can’t even fucking imagine being 20 and trying to become a musician now. It sounds like the darkest thing ever to try and get a reel to blow up, you know? It seems like anti-making music. 

I learned a lot about trusting the musicianship and embracing mistakes – or not even mistakes but how the imperfections are obviously the most powerful things. What makes art exciting is the imperfections in it. Even with all the stuff I’ve been working on since the tape, I’ve taken what I’ve learned or relearned from that and fully applied it in every way that I can; recording takes all the way through. There is this magic that happens if you just stick with it. Eventually it’ll click, and it’s so much more exciting than a loop or chopping anything up. 

I got really into the performance aspect of recording. That can be such a small part of it. You record for 10 per cent of the day and then the other 90 is clicking buttons on a screen. It’s not that exciting or that’s not, for me at least, spending my time wisely. That part is so much more enjoyable when the raw material is powerful on its own. I’ve been making a ton of new stuff with no auto-tune and full takes. It was pretty awakening. I was super inspired when I was making the tape. I wouldn’t shut up about it to anyone that would talk about music with me. I was like, “You gotta try this.”

It’s the best when you’re super inspired by something and want to share it with everyone. My last question for you, what do you hope translates to listeners from the story behind the process and how you felt making “MASK”?

I’ve probably said it in different ways, but if you’re not having fun making it, you might be doing something wrong. Figure out a way to make it feel fun. Another thing I learned was that if you make something that you truly fuck with, no one can touch that or take that away from you. That’s a really empowering feeling as an artist. Everyone has felt self-conscious or scared about sharing stuff and what people say. People are so mean these days, but if you trust your gut, feel inspired, and make something you truly fuck with, then you’ve succeeded.

I had this armour around me before I even put it out, where I felt like I had already won, which is probably really helpful. Especially if you’re younger and feeling bad about your reel getting two views or something, it doesn’t even matter. People respond to seeing someone believe in themselves.

Words – Izzy Petraglia

Photography – Gautam Balasundar