Following a breadth of experience as a collaborator and multi-instrumentalist, Maia Friedman’s densely-textured pop is wise and evokes what she wants it to: the sensuality of touch, feeling and image, a sonic form of empathy surrounding listeners like warmth.

Friedman grew up in the Sierra National Forest region of central California. She lived with her parents, their two dogs and four cats, playing in the wilderness until evening when her mom blew a whistle for her return. When she was ten, the family moved to the southern California coast. Her mother, a Jungian Psychoanalyst, led a dream group and filled their home with books on mythology, symbolism and dream interpretation. Her father, a film director, editor, and teacher, cultivated the home’s expansive music collection, gifting Maia a Jazz CD every birthday. These formative connections to the natural, the supernatural, and the eclectically creative elements of existing radiate through Friedman’s songwriting, elevated by her dexterity in translating imagery to sound, and enlivened by vocals pure and resounding.

Friedman’s voice lends a unique quality of comfort that permeates all her collaborations, but on an upcoming solo debut, she presents her full intention. Her role is that of the wounded healer, one who has gained wisdom through darkness and grief. In her empathetic role, rather than share the details of any struggling, Friedman instead sought to build a cloud of safety for those who might have pain of their own. Rather than a depiction of suffering, Friedman’s songs are its antidote.