By Emma Schwichtenberg

In the heart of Portland’s bustling music scene, Mighty—also known as Mathias Mauk—has carved out a unique space with his compelling artistry and personal resilience. His latest project, Buick Boy, isn’t just an album; it’s a raw, emotional journey that reflects his tumultuous past and triumphant present.

Mighty's musical odyssey began at just nine years old, amidst a backdrop of homelessness that lasted 15 years. His early life was spent in an '89 Buick with his mother, a struggle he now channels into his music. 

Buick Boy is more than a musical release; it's a statement of resilience and transformation. It reflects Mighty’s journey from sleeping in a Buick to achieving international acclaim. All proceeds from the album support homeless youth, emphasizing his commitment to giving back to his community.

Mighty’s nonprofit, Laced Up PDX, underscores his dedication to making a difference. By providing new shoes and essential supplies to kids in need, Mighty ensures that they start school with confidence and dignity. His own experience with charity programs inspired this initiative, showcasing his belief in impactful, meaningful support.

Behind the scenes, Mighty’s creative process is both methodical and intuitive. From mumbling melodies into voice memos to pacing his studio for inspiration, his approach has evolved with his success in sync licensing for films and ads. His ability to adapt and innovate shines through in every project.

Buick Boy is a testament to Mighty’s journey—an album that melds past struggles with present victories, all while supporting a cause close to his heart. For fans and supporters, it’s not just music; it’s a powerful narrative of resilience, artistry, and community spirit.

Converge music spoke with Mighty about his childhood and early career struggles to his current success and the deeply personal, community-focused themes of his upcoming album Buick Boy.

How did you get started in the music industry?

I actually started in the music industry when I was really, really young. I had a unique beginning. I began writing when I was about nine. I was homeless for about 15 years of my life, which gave me a tumultuous background as a youth. Music became an outlet for me, even though I didn’t fully understand what I was writing at the time. I was just getting my thoughts out, which eventually led me to become a musician. I started off in a duo group around the age of 12 and dropped my first album then. I was signed to management and everything, and it just grew from there. DJ OG One was my first DJ. We did a PSA for the MAX line in Portland through a youth center when I was a preteen. I was featured in a commercial and even appeared on the side of the MAX and buses. I got involved in various projects with the city and Multnomah County.

My career started really fast. I didn't know anything other than performing and using my art and craft to tell my story, which was quite cool as a youth. I was supported by the people around me, though not in a way that came with many opportunities. It was more about being in the right room at the right time and someone noticing my talent. I was in a group until I was about 19. During that time, we did some great things, toured the country, and I was homeschooled to accommodate this lifestyle. I went solo around the age of 20. By the time I was 21, I was on national television on BET’s 106 & Park, which was the number one show at the time, similar to TRL. I won twice on that show, performed live, and hosted on BET.com. This led to more travels across the country and internationally.

Going solo was a pivotal moment, and my life moved quickly after that. My journey in music has always been about telling my story and finding my truth. Looking back, it’s been a blessing. Music is not just something I do; it’s who I am.

I like the way of putting that: It's not who I am, it's just what I do. You mentioned that you were homeless for 15 years, but you started making music at nine. Were you homeless during that time, or did that happen to coincide?

Yes, I was homeless during that time. My mom left when I was 16, so for most of my childhood, I was either staying with someone or living in the back of a Buick. I'm actually wearing a shirt called "Buick Boy," which is also the title of my new album. It’s about expressing how that Buick changed my life. I slept in the back of an '89 Buick with my mother when we had nowhere else to go. That was where we were. It's crazy because my mom, like many people in survival mode, doesn't fully realize it. It's like, "Mom, we got our first apartment when I was 15. We had nowhere to go before that." If she was with a man, we were at his place; if not, I was at my auntie's house. We never had our own place, ever. We stayed on a couch or in a basement. I don't hold it against her, but we need to be honest about what happened.

Being homeless drove me to be expressive. I had a lot going on, and I was super prideful. No one in my life knew I was homeless, except for the people helping us. At school, no one knew I didn’t have anywhere to sleep. I played basketball and ran track, even competing at nationals. I was a decorated athlete, and no one knew that when I left practice, the sheriff had to pick me up because I couldn’t get home. That was the vibe. So, the homelessness up until I was about 15 years old was pretty prevalent.

How did your experiences incorporate into your music? You mentioned being prideful and not wanting people to know about your situation, yet you were also expressing deep emotions through your music. How did you balance that?

Yeah, I think, as a youth, when I was creating music, the dynamics were quite interesting because I didn't know what I was doing. I was just a kid, doing things to do them. I wasn't necessarily speaking about the struggles I was going through in my music. Those songs didn't necessarily get released, but I was writing to get things out. I think it played a huge part in helping me believe in myself when I felt like I had nothing.

I remember putting hand warmers in the bottom of a sleeping bag to keep my feet warm. It was a very tough situation, but you wouldn't know that from the outside. Music allowed me to be expressive and to become someone else. I didn't have to feel like I was at the bottom of the barrel; I could be whoever I wanted to be in a song. That's where the expression saved me, in a way. The pride went hand in hand with that because no one could tell me otherwise. I had control over what I was doing. That's the thing with pride—you control it. You can say, "No, I'm okay," even if you’re not. Music gave me that control and allowed me to tell my story on my terms.

How does "Buick Boy" reflect the shift from what you were working on when you were younger to how you are now accepting and expressing those emotions in your music?

Absolutely, that's a great question. It's probably the scariest moment of my life because I've accepted it internally and forgiven everything. I'm at peace with it, but I'm rekindling certain emotions and honesty through what I saw and felt. It's extremely scary to take the photo shoot for the cover—I'm in the exact Buick I slept in. Going back to those moments is jarring.

What it does for me is allow me to understand perspective in a very true way, not just saying, "Hindsight is 20/20." I'm actually practicing and educating people on why this isn't okay through the music. "Buick Boy" is not only a vulnerability of mine that was very impactful for a long time, but it's also a stance. I won't let that define who I am. There's a duality with the album: it's vulnerability and bad decisions, but it's also triumph and overcoming. There's this weird duality to the perspective, if that makes sense.

When did you decide that you wanted to create this album?

I knew I wanted to make this album when I felt that music alone wasn’t fulfilling me anymore. I had always known I’d do something like this, but it became clear when I realized that despite my success—traveling the world, running a nonprofit that helps 20,000 children in my community—creating music alone wasn’t enough. As an artist, you constantly seek new challenges. There were aspects of my artistry I hadn’t explored yet, and I felt it was time to open those doors. I sought production that reflected the edginess and angst I felt back in the Buick. By putting myself in those situations and changing my creative approach, I reignited my thought process and found new inspiration.

When I made a few songs and realized I was onto something, I knew I was heading in the right direction. The name “Buick Boy” came about spontaneously. One day, while I was in the kitchen with my drummer, I suggested calling the album “Back at the Buick,” and he immediately said, “Just call it Buick Boy.” It felt perfect, and it stuck.

All proceeds from this album go to homeless youth. I don’t make any money from it; the goal is to raise awareness. Portland has the highest rate of homelessness per capita, and there are 30,000 homeless youth in the city right now. My nonprofit, Lisa PDX, partners with homeless liaisons from every school district, and the album’s proceeds support these efforts. It’s even printed on the back of my shirt, highlighting the album’s purpose, with the Buick on fire symbolizing the intense emotion behind it.

I understand you host a nonprofit event that provides shoes for kids on their first day of school called Laced Up PDX? How did you start hosting this event, and why did you choose to focus on providing shoes for kids?

Laced Up PDX started because of my own experiences in the community. Growing up, I was the kid receiving help from every possible program—Build-A-Bike, after-school programs, turkeys for Thanksgiving, Shop with a Cop, you name it. I appreciated the help, but I wanted something more meaningful. During college, while performing around the country and working in my community part-time, I realized I wasn’t a fan of the traditional charity model. I didn’t like the first-come, first-serve approach, which often left me feeling embarrassed. As I became more successful and no longer needed these services, I wanted to give back in a different way.

I remembered how a new pair of sneakers could boost my confidence. Growing up, I wore hand-me-downs and couldn’t afford my own shoes, even though I was a college athlete. Sneakers made me feel new and confident, and since I’m a sneakerhead with 300 pairs of shoes and experience testing products for Adidas and Nike, it made sense to use sneakers as a way to give back. I decided to create an event where every child would receive a pair of shoes before they even arrived, eliminating the uncertainty of waiting in line. I funded the first event myself, and it quickly gained support from others. Laced Up PDX has since helped thousands of families in Portland. Focusing on shoes allowed me to narrow the scope and make the event more impactful. Each child received not just shoes, but also a haircut, food, a backpack, and more. The event became a way to show genuine care and support.

The idea for Laced Up PDX began in 2018, but I had been working on it for five years prior. It was a challenging journey, and I had to learn how to tell my story and stay committed. Laced Up PDX has become a way to be a voice for those in need, and perhaps it also influenced my decision to be more vulnerable in my music, like with Buick Boy.

What's your process for writing lyrics? Some people have rituals or routines that help them get into the creative zone. 

My process for writing lyrics is quite specific. I’ve recorded myself since I was young, so I often start with mumbling melodies into voice memos. My wife makes fun of me for this, but it helps me capture ideas as they come. I pace around my studio while I work; I have to stand and walk to get into the flow.

I used to write without any notes, but as I became more successful with sync licensing—placing music in movies, TV shows, and ads—I realized that approach wasn’t effective anymore. During the pandemic, I had to create a lot of music at once, so I needed to change my process. Voice memos became essential for referencing melodies and ideas.

I start by choosing a concept and figuring out what I want to express. I then decode how to break it down and work backwards from the end result. This method has been consistent since I was a child. I wrote a song called "Politics with an X" when I was 11, tackling themes that were beyond my years. Even then, I had a concept first and worked backwards, which is pretty wild.

Now, the process is more of a formality; it’s a flow state driven by inspiration and emotion. For projects like Netflix, where I need to create grandiose and inspiring music, I might initially find the direction corny, but by following my heart, I end up creating something that resonates. Understanding what people are looking for as listeners is crucial, and being able to dissect and adapt to those needs is a big part of my process.

Mighty is currently working on a three-part album titled Buick Boy. The first part, Act One, will be released on August 2, 2024, with Acts Two and Three scheduled to follow later in the year. The album is subscription-based, allowing fans to choose their subscription price, with all proceeds supporting youth initiatives. Subscribers will also receive exclusive content.

In addition to his music projects, Mighty has been deeply involved in community work. His process for creating music has evolved significantly, especially with the success he’s found in sync licensing for films, TV shows, and ads. 

Find him on Instagram @itzmighty.