When Max Gomez talks about music, it feels less like an interview and more like a front porch conversation at dusk… the kind where two friends just share stories while guitars lean against chairs and the truth slips out easily. The Taos, New Mexico-born Americana artist has been writing songs that feel like weathered pages torn from the American Songbook and his latest record, Memory Mountain, might just be his most personal chapter yet.
“I was the youngest of five boys,” Gomez says, half laughing. “One of my older brothers picked up the guitar when he was 16 and I was nine. I’d pick it up every time he put it down.”
It’s a familiar story of a kid finding a friend in six strings.
But, when Max’s parents split and his brothers moved away, his guitar turned into his sole constant companion. “The guitar was like a crutch,” he says. “[It was] a good friend that was always there.”
Growing up in Taos, Max seemed to gravitate into a steady diet of blues. “We listened to nothing but B.B. King and Lightnin’ Hopkins,” he recalls. “We thought B.B. King hung the moon.” But then came Riding With the King — the 2000 collaboration between Eric Clapton and B.B. King. “I remember thinking, man, this old British guy can play pretty good!” Max says laughing. That record cracked open the door to something new for Gomex; soon, the kid from New Mexico who — worshipped the blues — was learning more folk-leaning songs.
Max’s love of music eventually led him east to Nashville.
“When I was 20 or 21, I came here to co-write songs with more established songwriters,” Gomez says. “I wrote a number of songs I still play today.” For a kid from New Mexico, those early sessions in the Music City were a masterclass in craft and business.
But Nashville, for all its neon and promise, wasn’t his endgame. “These days, I have a community of friends and neighbors who are musicians,” Max continues. “Sometimes, a song feels like something I’d co-write with someone… and sometimes, it’s too personal to share.” His instincts when to open up versus when to hold back have become the compass that guides his budding career.
Over the years, Max has seen both sides of the recording industry, bouncing between big labels and full independence. His debut came through a well-known imprint and his second album followed on a Universal-distributed startup. But ‘Memory Mountain’ marks a return to his roots.
“This [album is] independent,” Gomez boasts proudly. “I’ve experienced both worlds and, honestly, working with a label is easier in some ways; they handle all the little details, barcodes, schedules, distribution — all that non-musical stuff. But, when you do it yourself, you’re more in touch with your own artistry.”
That sense of control runs deep in his voice — not rebellion, but reclamation. “When you’re working with a label,” Max explains, “they want you to make records lickety-split. But, when you’re doing it by yourself, you take more time. That freedom’s special.”
He’s even given his DIY effort a name — Marvel Tone Records.
A self-run operation that Max says “feels like a label now”, his workload is staggering — “probably [doing[ 50 shows between now and January.” But Max is not phased, stating: “It’s a new era for me. I’m trying to make hay while the sun shines.”
These days, Max Gomez splits his time between Los Angeles and his hometown. “Taos is where everybody knows everybody,” he says. “Every time I come to town, they put me in the newspaper.” In LA, he’s just another face in the crowd… and he loves that, too. “I go back and forth,” Max says.
“The road kind of engulfs my life anyway.”
There’s an old family house in Taos where he still stays, fixes things up, and writes. The mountains, the solitude… it’s all part of the universe that fueled Memory Mountain. When I asked Gomez what’s on his playlists, he laughed. “I seldom listen to people who are still alive.” He then rattled off names like Paul Clayton, Steve Goodman, and Kris Kristofferson — a lineage of folk storytellers whose fingerprints are all over his work. “You’d be hard pressed to find someone with a pulse in this list,” he jokes.
Still, he’s not stuck in the past. “Ron Sexsmith just put out a new record that’s really good,” Max adds, almost as an afterthought. But you get the sense Gomez listens less for trends and more for musical truth.
One of my favorite songs on his album, “Good Friend”, has an origin story that’s pure heartache. “It’s about a young woman I was close friends with,” Max says. “She was having a crisis and felt trapped, like her life was doomed. I wrote the song one night, just trying to cheer her up — to tell her she wasn’t trapped… that we’d always be good friends.”
It’s the kind of song that, in my opinion, captures Max Gomez’s entire personality: he exudes kindness and chill and it’s not surprising to me that he would be able to just create a song like that for someone he cares about. Laughing when I asked if her husband ever found out, Gomez replied, “I hope not.”
Before the interview ended, I asked Max a question I ask during all of my interviews:
If you were given a box containing everything you’ve ever lost, what would you look for first?
Gomez doesn’t hesitate. “My first guitar,” he says. “Santa Claus brought it, a little half-size nylon-string guitar. I loaned it out once and never got it back. It’d be a prized possession if I still had it.”
That’s Max Gomez in a nutshell… a man still chasing the notes of his first song, still haunted by the beauty of what’s gone, and still climbing his own Memory Mountain, one verse at a time. Be sure to check out his album and catch him on tour if he is in your area!
Max Gomez – “New Mexico” official video
Stream ‘Memory Mountain’ album:
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