Making Music, Making Ends Meet with MACEY: ‘I’ve Got Three Jobs Alongside Making an Album’

Musicians have always worked day jobs and side hustles to fund their art, and as Australia and Aotearoa continue to battle a cost-of-living crisis, the need to do so grows greater.

In Making Music, Making Ends Meet, Rolling Stone AU/NZ meets different musicians to discuss their life away from music, how they sustain their careers, and what they think needs to be done to improve our music industry.

Through a mixture of op-eds, interviews, videos, and more, our new series captures their experiences, both good and bad, as well as their hopes and fears for the future.

Next up is Tāmaki Makaurau Auckland-based singer-songwriter MACEY, who just released his new album ONCE. 

Below, MACEY reflects on early jobs, moving to England, funding opportunities, the future of live music, and much more.

MACEY’s Once is out now.

Rolling Stone AU/NZ: What was your very first job?

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MACEY: I was 14 and my parents thought it would be a good idea for me to get a job. I grew up in Cambridge, and there was this little gift shop with a café attached to it. It sold things like paua shell necklaces and souvenirs. My dad knew the owner, so I got a job there working the till and microwaving quiches and muffins every Saturday. That was my first job.

We’ve all been there, the less-than-ideal first job. I stuck around at mine for five years for some reason…

Because you’re a champion. I stayed at one of my jobs for about the same time, Honey Bones in Auckland. Sometimes you just get comfortable there, you get to know the people.

Was that your favourite job?

I mean, I’ve done so many jobs. My least favourite was definitely kiwifruit picking. It was incredibly tedious — climbing ladders, winding vines around wires all day. God, it was just endless, you know, just a flat plain of the same shit. I’d actually pray for rain so we’d have to stop.

My favourite was probably working at Orphans Kitchen. Everyone that we worked with was a creative — musicians, actors, artists, even the manager. There was complete understanding of everyone’s schedules and lifestyle. I remember turning up once having had no sleep and there was no judgement — just that understanding of, I guess, the life of an artist. It felt like working with family.

What stage of your music career were you at while working there?

That was in 2023. I’d just signed with Warner and was beginning work on my first album.

Balancing work and music is something so many artists deal with. Has that become easier?

I think I’ve become so used to it that it probably has become easier. Sometimes friends tell me they don’t know how I manage it, and then I stop and realise I’ve got three jobs alongside making an album.

You’ve got to earn money somehow, and almost all that money that you make goes into a music video or, I don’t know, hiring a rehearsal space. Every musician, no matter what level they’re at, deserves a lot of love and respect, because you definitely can’t be doing it to, like, buy a house or whatever. You’re not doing it for that reason. It’s something special.

The fact that I’ve stuck at it… Getting to the point of a sophomore album with my label, that doesn’t happen for everyone.

Are you still working those kinds of jobs?

I left Orphans Kitchen to go to England to write the album. Sadly it closed while I was away. When I got back I worked at Honey Bones again, and now I work at a lovely little bakery called Beabea’s, which has a really similar atmosphere to Orphans… It actually might be my new favourite job.

I also make coffee on the set of a Minecraft movie that’s filming, which is pretty fun.

What’s been some of the biggest sacrifices you’ve made for your career?

Going to England was terrifying. I actually cried on the phone to my friend before I left for the airport, and she basically told me, “Sorry, I’m really busy, but you’ve got this. Just be brave,” before hanging up. It was exactly what I needed — I stopped crying immediately.

The fact that I’ve stuck at it… Getting to the point of a sophomore album with my label, that doesn’t happen for everyone.

I did have to end a beautiful relationship, though. It came down to moving to England or France to be with her or staying here to see out the rest of this, you know, finishing the record. It’s like that movie Sliding Doors, you know where if Gwyneth Paltrow walked onto the tube, her life would be different. There’s still soreness around that. It [was] very amicable because she just knew this was something I had to do, but it doesn’t make it any easier.

Do you think there’s still a stigma around musicians working other jobs?

I don’t think other people judge it as much as I judge myself. Sometimes I look at friends and family my age, who have houses and more traditional careers, and I feel like I’m ten years behind. That’s probably where the judgement comes from.

On the other hand, I think some people look at musicians and think, “I wish I could be that brave.” Choosing this path is a huge risk.

I’m trying to let go of the desperate need for things to happen and just be at peace with whatever comes.

How do you deal with those feelings of self-doubt? 

Therapy has helped a lot. To be honest, the last couple of weeks have been a massive struggle. I’m about to release an album and I’m having what feels like a quarter-life crisis. I’ve been trying self-affirmation exercises. I wrote down all the things I want, then closed the book and put it away. I’m trying to let go of the desperate need for things to happen and just be at peace with whatever comes.

I often find when I’m in this state of playful, whatever, I get awesome opportunities or something cool happens.

Things always come when you least expect them to, right?

Yeah, it comes when you don’t want it and you’re not trying to hold on to it for dear life. Like, I got a role in a short film and I got a big ad, and that was all coming from just being playful because I didn’t hold acting in the same way that I hold music. And I think that got rid of a block. I mean, I don’t really know if it works… I’m testing it out so I’ll keep you posted.

How does funding an album like this actually work?

Half of the project was funded by NZ On Air through project funding, and the other half came from Warner as an advance. So that gets everything started. A lot of that money goes towards recording, session musicians, artwork, and music videos. I’ve made five videos already, and one more coming for the title track. Warner and my manager then handle distribution and getting everything out into the world.

We’re doing CDs and merch as well, which I’ve never done before.

The culture is getting worse because people only really go to a show now if it’s someone from out of town.

Why CDs?

Because it’s cheaper than vinyl. I did vinyl for the first album, but I’m actually quite excited, I love CDs — they’re great. And they’re cheaper too — I’ll be selling them at the gigs for like $30, instead of like $70 for a vinyl.

Auckland has been talking a lot about the future of live music following the uncertainty around Neck of the Woods. How do you feel about it?

I’ve been there a few times and played an opening slot there when I was about 18 or 19. A lot of my friends DJ there too. I never thought that place would shut down. I’m sad about it, but I also think new generations often create new spaces. I remember when the Kings Arms [in Auckland] went, that was my favourite venue. I saw Mac DeMarco there and that had been around for bloody yonks. So the fact that we’ve raised $150,000 for Neck of the Woods… I think we’ll be alright.

My bigger concern is whether people are still going out to see local artists. The culture is getting worse because people only really go to a show now if it’s someone from out of town. The culture of going to see local acts that aren’t these huge things… people are less inclined for. Because they think, “Oh, they’re here all the time, I don’t need to go see that.”

Is that something you’ve noticed at your own shows?

Yeah, it’s hard to sell tickets. We’re doing our best, but I’m having to post every day, which is fine. I mean, most artists are probably in the same boat at my level. But even trying to get a tour going down to Christchurch or whatever would be impossible because of the cost of it.

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What do you think needs to change to better support live music?

I know we’re in a recession, but we’ve got to lower the rent prices of housing. That’s something that needs to be done. I mean, if you’ve just left uni and you’re getting a part-time job and you want to move to Auckland, you’re not going out. You’re eating baked beans and tuna every night. The older generation will be like, “We had to do that and look at us now, we’ve got houses.” They just don’t get it. So rent needs to go down.

I think it’s also a stupid government, no offence. This current government is not in favour of arts and culture at all. If the next government comes in and there’s a switch, I think it’s going to be fine. It would be cool if there was more money going into organisations, like NZ On Air, Creative New Zealand, to help artists. Like a supplement income or something like that.

I mean, I don’t know how much money we’ve got in the country, and I don’t know if what I’m saying is helpful at all, but when a city has no joy and no culture in any of the arts, especially music, well it’s just going to become like a totalitarian 1984 George Orwell vibe. We need art. The best cities have arts and culture going on, that’s why you go.

And with the cost-of-living, it’s a catch-22 right? Punters can’t afford going to gigs, but artists can’t afford to lower ticket prices.

Exactly. Maybe that’s another way to help, to give funding to venues, a set amount of money every month or something that helps them get at least one or two artists to play there. Venue-covered gigs are so rare, it never happens unless you’ve got backing.