2026 is shaping up to be a year of career-defining firsts for Josh Conway. The LA-based co-founder of The Marías kicked off the year by performing at the GRAMMYs, where the psychedelic rock project he started with María Zardoya received their first-ever nomination. A couple months later, Conway released his first single as a solo artist with the drum machine–driven “Forget Him,” which detailed the doubt that creeps in when trying to get back into the dating field after a fresh breakup. And today, the rocker has reached a particularly monumental first: the release of his debut solo album, plum.
A sweet-tasting piece of fruit with a solid pit at its core, the record works through deep-seated emotional baggage by wrapping it in a flood of drum machine loops, electronic warbles, and Conway’s soft baritone. Beyond the fruit metaphor is a double entendre with the carpenter’s term “plumb,” which is used to note that paneling is aligned and ready for the next step in the construction process. Conway sees his new record as the missing piece to stabilize his musical career, fulfilling an analogous role to the carpenter’s assessment: “This is the first time I’ve felt what it's like to be the sole face and voice of a project and it feels crazy,” he tells me. “It’s like finding out something new about someone you’ve known your whole life.”
We caught up with Conway to get some insight into his first foray into solo work and to learn the story behind the sunglasses-clad polar bear that’s popped up throughout his singles. Check out our conversation and stream plum below.
How has the solo approach differed from how you’ve approached creating with The Marías?
In terms of the actual creation of the music, I actually made an effort to create sounds that I wouldn’t normally use on a Marías record. I want this solo project to sound and look different than The Marías in almost every way I can while also staying true to myself. The way I write and produce in The Marías, while very true to me, is only one angle of who I am as a producer and writer, and this new side quest has allowed me to be able to showcase another side of who I am, and that feeling is very exciting. Yet I wasn’t expecting the finishing process to be so difficult. I thought, “I’m the only one who has to approve these mixes, this should be easy!” But I was dead wrong. I learned how much it helps to have a creative partner give their stamp of approval when finishing a song. Even if I don’t think it's done yet, just knowing someone else does makes the process move much quicker.
What defines the “Josh Conway” sound for you?
I think I’m still trying to figure that out! This album went through so many phases. The first time I thought it was done ended up just being version one, and like half of those songs didn’t make the cut. As of right now, though, I’d say the Josh Conway sound is defined by drum machines, tape saturation, and a lot of imperfections.
You open the album mentioning the bitterness inside on “Bully”—could you speak on that pit at the center of the otherwise sweet-sounding plum?
To me, the pit represents all the things we still carry no matter how long it’s been: old relationships, past arguments, that one thing your friend jokingly said about the way you talk that for some reason still lives in your mind in 4K. You can learn and grow from these things, but they never truly go away, and this album was me taking a good look at them instead of pretending they aren’t there.
What does your writing and composition process look like for tracks like “Belly Breathing” and “Crumble,” where you take this core theme of anxiety and explore it in fairly different ways sonically?
“Crumble” was by far the most exciting song to write and produce. Not having any true verse or chorus made the process exciting from start to finish. Each new section felt like a brand new canvas to paint on. Vocally, I knew I wanted to keep it as minimal as possible and use a lot of repetition. But the song is actually about being in an argument with someone and feeling that heat start to rise as it progresses. The subject matter and the production of the song felt very fitting to me. “Belly Breathing” is basically like being in a therapy session and diving into that “pit” that you’ve been neglecting for years. The bridge is sort of the apex, and I wanted the production to match the lyrics by hitting hard while staying true to the meaning of the song.
What’s the story behind this chill-ass polar bear that’s been starring in your visuals?
The bear kind of showed up before I really knew what it meant. The album is so much about looking inward and not neglecting parts of myself I’ve ignored for a long time, and I knew I wanted a character to carry some of that weight without taking itself too seriously. There’s something funny and also comforting about this bear. He’s calm, a little lost, but also very resilient. I think I saw a lot of myself in that. Plus, I like the contrast: plum is a very vulnerable record and this polar bear felt like the least intimidating way to invite people in.
