De Moré Explores the Messy Reality of Love, Avoidance, and Self-Sabotage on "Madeline"

Love can be complicated, especially when the person standing in your way is yourself. Las Vegas indie-folk artist De Moré explores that uncomfortable reality on "Madeline," an emotionally introspective EP that examines codependency, avoidance, and the exhausting cycle of wanting connection while simultaneously pushing it away.

Drawing inspiration from the atmospheric intimacy of Bon Iver, Phoebe Bridgers, and Adrianne Lenker, De Moré approaches songwriting with a thoughtful sensitivity to the contradictions of young adulthood. His music sits between emotional vulnerability and self-preservation, where recognizing unhealthy patterns doesn't necessarily make them easier to escape.

On "Madeline," those contradictions become the foundation of a larger narrative.

The EP follows the emotional consequences of allowing someone close before being genuinely prepared for that vulnerability. What begins as a desire for connection gradually exposes deeper insecurities, revealing how fear and unresolved personal struggles can damage relationships, even when intentions are sincere.

Rather than assigning blame, De Moré examines the uncomfortable responsibility that comes with recognizing your own destructive tendencies. The project's cyclical structure adds another dimension to its storytelling. Although "Madeline" concludes with emotional avoidance, returning to its opening track, “Plain White,” creates a sense of possibility. The same patterns might repeat, but the opportunity to approach them differently remains.

That subtle optimism makes the EP's message particularly compelling.

“Sometimes you mess up, and that’s okay. We live, and we grow,” De Moré explains, stressing that personal accountability matters even when forgiveness isn't guaranteed.

Sonically, the project embraces mellow, atmospheric indie-folk textures, keeping its personal lyrical themes central while featuring glimpses of a fuller, more expansive production style.

With another project already underway and a new single expected before year's end, De Moré plans to explore a heavier, layered wall-of-sound approach.

"Madeline" ultimately finds its strength in recognizing that healing rarely happens in a straight line. Sometimes growth begins with admitting you're the one who needs to change.

Madeline explores codependency and emotional avoidance as two sides of the same coin. What experiences led you to recognize that connection, and how did writing the EP change your perception of your own patterns in relationships?

There were a lot of patterns that I began to notice. Not just in the people I was with, but also in myself, which showed me how codependence and avoidance both stem from the desire to be loved while fearing rejection. One grasps at straws, while the other avoids the situation entirely. We all process trauma differently, and I don’t believe that either side is inherently wrong, but that doesn’t mean that we are just allowed to chalk up all of our flaws to trauma without making an active effort to change.

I think that’s one of the main lessons I learned through writing this EP. Sometimes you get hurt, but sometimes the pain inflicted is not one-sided. It’s important that we learn how to validate our own pain while simultaneously validating someone else’s pain as well.

The EP ends on an avoidant note, yet returning to “Plain White” creates a sense of promise through its cyclical structure. Was that relationship between the opening and closing tracks intentional from the beginning, and what do you hope listeners discover when they revisit the project?

Plain White was actually the last song I made for the project. For a long time, I was unsure as to how I wanted to end the story that I was trying to tell. ‘Madeline’ was always meant to be the closing track, but it felt very pessimistic to end the story there, so the creation of Plain White felt like the final piece of the puzzle. I have a bit of a gripe with projects that show no emotional progression. I believe contrasting perspectives are necessary to create truly compelling pieces of work.

Of course, this is a bit of a generalization. Sometimes you truly don’t know anything other than what you’re feeling in the moment and it is still very much possible to make great art that encapsulates that, but I hope that when people come back to revisit ‘Madeline’ they realize that there is always a chance to get back up and try again. Being hurt by love doesn’t mean that you should give up on it.

One of the most powerful ideas behind Madeline is that taking accountability doesn't automatically entitle someone to forgiveness. How did you write about your own mistakes without trying to justify them, and was there a moment during the creative process when that distinction became especially clear?

I believe that writing Brush Your Hair changed the landscape of the entire EP. What was initially a collection of songs about my anxious attachment quickly turned into a project about my avoidant tendencies as well. There was a relationship I was in at the time where I really had to face that part of myself in order to be better for the person that I was with.

I began to see myself in all of these songs that I had written about other people, and it was a scary, but necessary realization that I had to come to. Looking through both sides of the glass allowed me to look at other people with far more grace than I had been able to previously, but understanding why somebody is the way that they are does not mean that the pain they caused you is suddenly justified. That does not change when it is me that is inflicting that pain upon somebody else. 

Your songwriting draws from the atmospheric intimacy of artists like Bon Iver, Phoebe Bridgers, and Adrianne Lenker. What have those artists taught you about expressing uncomfortable emotions through music, and how do you balance their influence with developing a sound that feels distinctly yours?

When I first started to write songs, all I wanted to be was a replica of my influences. Although by studying them, I learned a lot about craft and how the thing that can connect you to an outside audience the most is vulnerability. I didn’t see it then, but now I see that my desire to be just like them stemmed from a belief that my creative voice simply wasn’t worth as much as the voices of my idols. As I grew older, and as I discovered the places my mind gravitated towards naturally, I realized that each of our minds is one of a kind. Even the “bad” art that we create can only be created by us, and I believe that is what makes every song, every art piece, every poem special. We are sharing a perspective that only we have, and in a way I believe we each have a responsibility to do so. I am not ashamed to admit where I find my inspiration. I embrace it deeply, but I am rarely ever thinking about my heroes while I am creating. The influence nowadays is far more subconscious than it is conscious.

You've mentioned that your next project will explore a fuller, wall-of-sound production style that was only hinted at on Madeline. What's inspiring that sonic shift, and does the move toward a bigger, more expansive sound reflect a change in the emotional stories you want to tell?

I’ve always hated the idea of being confined to a singular space as an artist. Before this project, I don’t think I had ever even produced a full song with vocals. I’ve been producing and writing songs for the past 8 or so years, but before Madeline, the two never co-existed in the same space. I think that may have stemmed from the embarrassment of sharing my voice. I believe singing is one of the most vulnerable things you could possibly do, but in order to work through the things I was facing at the time, I had to create Madeline, which served as a bridge for my two very different worlds. Now that I have a more consolidated vision for my music, all I want to do is explore everything else that I can do with it. I believe that branching out into different sonic territories will also allow me to explore certain concepts more freely. As songwriters, I feel like there are times when we can mistake a great song for a mediocre song with great lyrics. I’m not saying that lyrics will take a backseat on the next project. I will always be a writer first, but as of right now, I don’t believe the songs will be as sonically raw. I believe that the stories I want to tell next will be told by distributing the weight between the music itself and the words more equally.