I did that record with Universal and kind of felt like I was dating the wrong person. It was not at all a bad relationship; we weren’t really bringing out the best in each other.

If you’ve ever seen a Matt Nathanson show, you know how much fun it is. The songs—intelligent, well-crafted pop, often comparing the many facets of relationships to such everyday things as church clothes or radiator heat. (Hell, Nathanson even describes his recently ended tenure at Universal Records to “dating the wrong person”; read on.)

But in between songs is the real treat: the sight of a performer connecting with the audience on all levels, as if part of an intimate living room gathering and not a concert in some dark, impersonal club. Nathanson tells jokes, reveals flaws, shares stories that make the crowd feel as if they’re friends. Which, in many ways, they are. A near-constant performer, Nathanson’s on the road more than he’s off. So it’s fitting, then, that the fans become his friends, and vice versa.

Nathanson’s currently touring behind his first-ever live album, At the Point (self-released on his own Acrobat label). It’s just him, his guitar, and his ceaseless wit. He tells stories—some of them laugh-out-loud funny—makes up songs on the fly, and wholly entertains. In between gigs, he’s also putting the finishing touches on his next studio release. We caught up with Nathanson by phone.

Why a live record now, at this stage in your career?

The studio records are not nearly where I want them to be, but they’re always getting closer. But me live is sort of like another half of the experience of me that hasn’t been represented on record. You can kind of play studio records for people, but people are always like, “You’ve got to see him live.” It was just time to represent that side of me; the live thing is so essential to what I do. I feel much more natural on stage, being elevated by the audience and connecting, than I do in the studio.

The new record’s self-released; what happened to your deal with Universal?

I did that record with Universal and kind of felt like I was dating the wrong person. It was not at all a bad relationship; we weren’t really bringing out the best in each other. It was almost like—you know how people date people and they’re like, “Oh, we did so many fun things together but we just couldn’t have sex.” That was totally what it was like with Universal. I dig everybody, I still see all of them when I’m in New York. I just sat them all down and said, “I’m unhappy here,” and they were like, “Well, why? How can we make it better?” And I was like, “I don’t think you can.” It really was the most debris-free parting I could have imagined. It was pretty fucking rad; I don’t expect it to happen again.

How much of a hand do you have in production?

I’m kind of controlling, like on all levels [laughs], which is not necessarily good. So if by producing you mean the production on this new studio record, the way that it’s working is I’ve got two producers that are running with it. This is the first time that I’m really trying to let go of being so hyper-involved and really only involving myself in the parts that matter. Like giving energy to the parts where my energy would do it good instead of slowing it down. I’m a little bit further along; I find that if you actually let people do the job they signed up to do, they actually do it better than when you pull it away from them at every point.

What did you take from the Universal experience?

Before I got signed to a major, I was like, I don’t know how to make a record. I don’t know how this works. I can’t wait to get on a major label and have them enlighten me and open all these doors for me, educate me in the way of making great records. And what I found about Universal is that, once I was there and I was in Oz, I realized there’s no secret, and nobody knows anything more than anybody else, and that I just have to be able to trust myself. The reason I really wanted out of the label deal was because I felt like all the work that they’ve put in was great, and the money—but to not own my record—I don’t think it’s worth it. I think I thought there was an intangible thing that I was going to be magically given by signing and being involved with people who’d made records for 20 or 30 years, but it didn’t really happen. What I learned is that the only thing you’ve got is you, and the only thing you can trust is you. Nobody has any answers, and everybody’s just as lost as everyone else.

Have you got anything written on your arm right now?

Totally dude. Your number. [laughs] That’s awesome; there you are.

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