Frank's Corner #15: In Conversation With Total
The art of the riff, instinct, and the early effects of public reception.
Welcome, welcome, disciples of Frank. I hope everyone had a lovely, safe New Year’s celebration with loved ones, filled with dancing, singing, and playing. Before we get into this awesome installation, I want to extend a quick thank you, as we have officially cracked the 100-reader mark in just five short months. Your excitement and interactions with this little project of mine do not go unnoticed, and I am so freakishly grateful!
Diving into the first installation of 2026, we’re coming in hot with a new favorite of mine. Margot, riding under the moniker Total, in my humble opinion, is one of the most underrated indie multi-instrumentalists on the rise these days. It’s her apparent knack for building these guitar progressions from a sort of deep-nothingness into these atmospheres you feel like you can see that drew me deeper and deeper into the Total-verse.
In her latest compilation, “It Serves To Nullify Me,” the oblivion and candor of her bedroom pop surfaces and bursts with a soft-spoken sense of conviction. While she tells me the songs under the Total project are nothing more than products of thought-scraps from her bedroom, there’s a magic to the stories she’s telling, from both the enigmatic (perhaps at times cryptic) lyrics and the warm instrumentals that fill a room in the gentlest possible way.
We had an awesome chat for this first installation of 2026…I hope you tune in!
25F: Has there been a moment recently where you thought, “Oh, this is what Total really is”? What triggered that realization?
Total: Total is definitely just me losing my mind in the corner of my bedroom. But lately I’ve realized how nice it feels to be comfortable enough to call it that. My EP, It Serves to Nullify Me, really reinforced that idea—it’s the truest I’ve ever been to capturing what my life felt like at a certain time through music. That sense of relief has made me accept that Total can just be the name I use for the songs I make in my room. The other day, I came home from work and told my mom I was going to record for a bit, and she said, “Put that Total cap on!” I was like, “Girl, I wish there was a cap.” I’m just really lucky to have an outlet for my brain every day, and to feel this connected to my music. When the task is to release, the result is simply that—you’ve released.
Talk to me about the stage name—where did it come to be, why did it stick, etc.
Let’s just say I’ve been uploading music since 2016 and went through maybe a billion different names. In middle school, I was secretly posting on SoundCloud and YouTube. In high school, it was everywhere—streaming services, guitar videos—and every time someone from school found one, I’d delete everything and start from scratch.
Flash forward to 2021: my friends and I were running doors at hardcore shows every weekend. Whenever we’d tally tickets, I’d joke, “Yup. My band, Total, has once again sold more tickets than all these bands combined.” They told me I should just call myself Total—so I did. I even emailed the streaming platforms right away because I thought it was funny. It’s the first name I haven’t deleted, probably because by then I’d graduated and my new circle was mostly other musicians. It felt fair—I knew their music, they could know mine.
When you’re building a song, what usually comes first for you now: a feeling, a phrase, a texture? Something else? Has this always been the case?
Most songs start with one riff or melody that hits something deep and indescribable inside me. It’s like it unlocks a dozen unexplored corners of thought. That’s been true since I was a kid taking piano and violin lessons—every song started from one “fire” riff I built out. I try not to overthink it. I usually discover how I’m feeling through what tuning feels right and how I’m playing. It’s all instinct. I see my process as closer to painting—record one thing, keep embellishing until it feels right.
Are there emotions you find especially hard to capture without sounding corny or forced?
Honestly, I don’t worry about that anymore. I’ve learned it’s better to train your brain to like what you like. If someone called my lyrics corny, I’d probably just say, “La la la, I love my song!” Looking back, sure, some lines feel a bit silly—but I’m young! In five years, I’ll probably think the same about what I’m writing now. So why not just say what I want, how I want?
How (if at all) has the reception of your music changed the way you create?
My creative process honestly hasn’t changed—it’s always just whatever’s coming out of me. But the reception has changed me as a person. I used to be afraid to share, but now it’s comforting to be connected to so many people through one thing, despite living totally different lives. I’ve learned a lot from hearing how others interpret my songs—their perspectives are often surprisingly eye‑opening.
Do you model your guitar picking after other guitarists? If so, who? If not, how would you describe your sound and how you hope it makes listeners feel?
I started teaching myself guitar in sixth grade when my choir teacher said we needed an accompanist. My dad taught me a few chords, and I just started writing my own stuff. I never really spent much time learning properly—which isn’t great, but I think it makes my playing more personal. I do hear bits of American Football and Alex G in what I do, especially since they inspired me to try open tunings. I’m also in a deathcore band, so that takes most of my technical focus, while Total stays more freeform and instinctive. Having that heavier background actually helps—it’s a great release when you can go from sweep‑picking to delicate fingerstyle in the same day.
Your guitar and vocal arrangements are really simple and airy. What does stripping things down to those textures let you say that a fuller production couldn’t?
I think my production style comes from not really knowing much about production—just going with what sounds good to me. I love surrounding myself with sound until it feels like a kind of fog. I’ve never spent much time thinking about what I could do with more intricate production. I use an old mic, an old version of Logic my teacher gave me, and a ton of reverb. I think the airiness comes from wanting to give the guitars space—they drive everything I do.
I love how the EP is short and concentrated, almost like a single snapshot instead of a long story. Was there a reason it felt right to keep it brief?
Funny you say that—it originally had ten songs. Some just felt unfinished, like I didn’t fully understand them yet. I’ll come back to those. The four that made it felt complete and true to that time in my life. The others? Seeds I’ll revisit when I’m wiser.
When someone asks what type of music you create, what do you actually tell them—and how close does that feel to what Total is for you?
I usually say “it’s kind of melancholic,” because I don’t totally know how to describe it. I’d have to invite people inside my brain to really get it. Most say it’s slowcore, which I’m honored by. Slowcore is so versatile and vast—there are so many beautiful, low‑stream songs in that world that deserve more love. I’m proud to be part of that space.
Is there a song on the new EP—or across your catalog—that best encapsulates Total as a being, artist, or concept?
I’m proud of everything. I have my favorites, but every song felt special and made me happy at the time. It’s a fluid catalog—it’s all part of the same picture. It’s beautiful when people connect with different pieces of it.
Is there any media—music, TV, books, anything—that’s especially influenced Total, or It Serves to Nullify Me?
Definitely. The title It Serves to Nullify Me is actually a lyric from my favorite song, “Come On” by Acetone. That song occupies a feeling in my brain I can’t quite explain—maybe bittersweet is the closest word. In context, the line comes from a verse about the desert sun, heat, water, and being consumed by it. I don’t even know how to put my own interpretation into words yet, but it inspired the EP deeply.
I also sped up the final vocals—a little Alvin and the Chipmunks style—because I heard Postcard Nowhere do it on “Nothinn” and mika archive on “ketchup or mustard.” That was such a fun experiment. Devon Hendryx also inspired me a lot—songs like “Deuce Komradz” and “Charli Baltimore” create these thick, isolated worlds I wanted to channel while editing.
What does life look like for you after a release? Is it a “get me away from this” thing, or does it open a space you can’t help but fill again?
When I first started posting music, it was just so my songs could pop up on shuffle in my own playlists. It’s still kind of like that. I add them to my queue, and when they play, I think, “Wow, this fits perfectly right now.” I don’t worry much about how others perceive Total, though I get nervous when someone I know says they listened. My coworker brought it up recently—I think I blacked out—but he liked “Birds and Basketball,” so that was nice. I love that the music’s out there for anyone to find now. For me, a release really feels like a release—then it’s done, and I can start again. That’s exciting.
Are there any exciting or fun music endeavors coming up, with or beyond the new EP?
Definitely, I’ve been writing and recording a lot. Like I said, Total is just me going a little crazy in my room. I’ve got a bunch of collaborations lined up with insanely talented musicians, which I’m so excited about. I’ve also been teaching myself covers lately—it’s helping me learn what I skipped early on, and it’s introducing cool new ideas into my own writing. I’ve been posting some of those on YouTube, which has been fun. I’m just excited to keep making stuff and seeing where it takes me.
Listen to “It serves to nullify me” on Spotify. Follow Total on Instagram and TikTok.
we🤍total
Ur so amazing 🌸