May-a's Debut Album Emerges from Industry Disillusionment and Personal Resolve
At just 24 years old, Australian singer-songwriter Maya Cumming, widely known by her stage name May-a, has already navigated the dizzying highs and crushing lows of the global music scene. Her journey, marked by a chart-topping collaboration and a disheartening stint in Los Angeles, culminates this month with the release of her fiercely independent debut album, Goodbye (If You Call That Gone). The record, she reveals, was profoundly "driven by spite" against an industry that sought to mould her.
A Dream Turned Sour in the City of Angels
Following the success of her 2021 debut EP and a featured role on Flume's 2022 Triple J Hottest 100-winning track Say Nothing, Cumming's career trajectory seemed assured. Signing with Atlantic Records in the US was initially a dream realised. However, the reality of arranged Los Angeles studio sessions, which began with frequent fly-backs and culminated in a full relocation in 2024, proved creatively stifling.
"I moved to LA for the label and then did the sessions that they put in for me," Cumming recalls. "And then I was like, these are sucking everything out of me and leaving no trace of my personality in any of this music. It was just feeling very stale and devoid of personal touch." She describes the experience as yielding "so many compromises," particularly on her 2023 EP Analysis Paralysis, leading to a split from Atlantic in late 2024.
Reclaiming Artistic Control Through Collaboration
Liberated from corporate pressures, Cumming bunkered down with her partner, guitarist and engineer Chloe Dadd, to craft songs that channeled righteous anger and personal revelation. "I had lost who I was because of trying to please corporations that just wanted me to write singles and hits," she states. To forge a new sound distinct from her earlier hushed bedroom pop, she enlisted seasoned rock and pop-punk figures, including Paramore producer Carlos de la Garza and Foo Fighters drummer Ilan Rubin.
The collaborative sessions clicked, resulting in an album that showcases her evolution. Tracks like the steely Last Man On Earth and the fizzy, celebratory (I'm here for the) Girls mark a deliberate departure. "With this album, I don't care who puts me in what box," Cumming asserts, referencing early fears of being pigeonholed as a "lesbian artist for lesbians" after her teen-queer anthem Apricots. "I just want to write what I want to write."
From Byron Bay Busking to Arena Stages with Icons
Cumming's musical roots run deep. Steeped in Bob Dylan by her amateur musician father, she busked around Byron Bay as a young teen. A fortuitous, unannounced visit to a Sydney studio at age 14 connected her with producer-mentor Christian Lo Russo. Her early influences spanned the diaristic pop of Lorde and Taylor Swift to the male-fronted rock bands she adored, a dichotomy that shaped her artistic search.
"I loved so many different bands, but they were all fronted by men," she says. "I was like, well, there's no woman in the Red Hot Chili Peppers or the Strokes, so I guess I'll be Taylor Swift." Later discoveries of acts like Garbage and Hole pointed her toward her rockier destiny. This journey was punctuated by a phenomenal career highlight last year: performing Girls Just Want to Have Fun on stage in Sydney with the iconic Cyndi Lauper. "It was phenomenal to watch [Lauper] perform at 71," Cumming says, still in awe. "I was like, well, at least I have my goals set out for me now."
Looking Forward with Gratitude and Defiance
Now signed to Sony Music Australia for her worldwide rights, Cumming reflects on her path with a mix of wry humour and hard-won wisdom. She discusses the word "lucky" tattooed on her throat, explaining its meaning has evolved from a reminder of survival to an expression of gratitude for her supportive parents. "They have just been there for me, and I'm fucking crazy," she laughs.
As Goodbye (If You Call That Gone) arrives, May-a stands as an artist who has reclaimed her narrative. The album is a testament to resisting homogenisation and finding one's voice amidst industry noise. "I think I associated LA with purposelessness for so long," she muses. "Now I can see the potential there, because there are goals, not just throwing shit at the wall until it sticks." Her debut is not just a collection of songs; it's a declaration of artistic independence.
