From the expanses of Chihuahua to early internet fame, the Mexican artist discusses the power of working alone and the future nostalgia of his hometown.

From the expanses of Chihuahua to early internet fame, Ed Maverick discusses the power of working alone and the future nostalgia of his hometown.

That calm has shaped his last few months. As the era of his previous album, La Nube En El Jardín, comes to an end, Ed speaks of a stage that has arrived with a new sense of clarity, new habits and a tranquility that has begun to influence his creativity. “I started a very specific kind of therapy. I’m remembering a lot of things and I feel calmer. I’ve entered an ideal mindset for someone with a lifestyle like mine. I’ve made an effort to keep a healthier sleep schedule. I feel happier during the day. I’m more focused, and the creativity muscle feels freer. I get inspired more easily,” he says. 
 
When he thinks about his city, Ed first remembers a very specific feeling, one with its own soundtrack. “Everything feels like a Los Temerarios song. Those guys use a lot of glorious, very cold synths, and Delicias reminds me a lot of that: Los Temerarios and Beach House.” For him, Delicias also carries a sense of nostalgia. “Like that Brazilian concept, saudade: living through something you know you’re going to miss at some point. That’s how Delicias has felt to me since I was a kid.”

The desert—the ecosystem that defines much of Chihuahua—can feel different depending on who is looking at it. For those who see the glass half full, its immensity can be associated with freedom: an open horizon without limits. For those who see it half empty, that same vastness can move closer to emptiness itself: a silent expanse where absence also seems to carry weight. Ed seems to inhabit a middle point between both ideas. “I feel like emptiness and freedom aren’t at odds with each other,” he says. “Emptiness, solitude, open space, to me, they’re similar. People don’t like solitude; they don’t like the absurdity of seeing a giant space and not knowing which way to run. It’s surprising, strange. It’s like outer space,” he reflects. “For me, beyond the fact that it feels absurd and immense, it gives me freedom.” 
 
That relationship with solitude and emptiness also appears in his creative process. For Ed, working alone allows him to listen to his own ideas without interference and make clear decisions about the sound, the takes and the direction of a song. “I don’t like recording with people. It’s not that it bothers me, but if I’m with someone and they start giving me opinions I didn’t ask for, they just confuse me. So I try to work alone most of the time. That gives me space to do things the way I want.”

Although people often assume that creative growth requires moving to a big city, Ed prefers the calm of his hometown and the distance from the industry. “Here in Delicias, if it gets cloudy and the sky looks beautiful, you can go out for a walk in the morning and everything is very peaceful,” he says. “In big cities there’s too much visual stimulation, and it becomes too much. Here I don’t have to be close to that constant performance of the industry or get into that clout-chasing.” 
 
Maverick had a rapid rise to fame and the spotlight. It gave him a large audience, led to collaborations on albums like C. Tangana’s El Madrileño, and opened the possibility of taking his music around the world. However, that exposure also came with a dark side: online harassment. Ed has spoken openly in the past about how that period affected his mental health and even led him to have suicidal thoughts. 
 
Today, with more distance and time, he looks back on that period as an experience that left him with thicker skin, a sharper mind and a broader perspective on what exists out there. “Receiving rejection and suffering rejection taught me something. I’m not going to romanticize the harassment I received when I was very young, but you take something from it. You have to toughen up. It’s really crazy that when I was receiving the most hate online, that was also when the virality and media attention were at their highest. It’s very strange how fame works.” 
 
Inevitably, that media spotlight, whether good or bad, has created a character of Ed Maverick that exists beyond Eduardo Hernández Saucedo, his real name. Exposure, stages and the gaze of others have built a public figure that resembles him. Maverick understands this clearly. When he gets onstage, he seems to observe himself from the outside. That distance allows him to understand how to move, how to speak and how to inhabit that place in front of an audience. “The way I act comes a lot from seeing myself in the third person.”

That character does not feel foreign to him, although he recognizes that, over time, he has learned to inhabit it better. “In a way, I do act the way I imagine people expect me to. As time passes, I’ve become more used to the idea of doing that. If I want to keep working in this, I have to be liked by people; that’s a reality,” he explains. For him, that tension also has something fun about it: the figure of Maverick can be shaped, grown and changed before the public’s gaze. 
 
Even so, he is grateful to stay away from a more abrasive kind of fame. He knows that being at the absolute center of the spotlight can be a double-edged sword, and he prefers a position that allows him to live from music without being trapped in the machinery of gossip. That is why he accepts that the public only knows a fraction of him: the part that appears in his songs, the most romantic and reflective side. A real but incomplete part of Eduardo turned into Ed Maverick.

Maverick is beginning to close the era of La Nube En El Jardín and look toward what comes next: a double album of 20 songs, divided into two volumes of 10 tracks each. The first, he says, has a more existential and philosophical search, with a different writing approach from what he had explored before. Many of those songs were not born from the guitar, but from the computer, building instrumentals, trying out arrangements and letting production guide the way. 
 
“You can notice, for example, throughout volume one, how isolation begins to affect the way I color the sound. Solitude starts to become present in the harmonies of the songs. Everything is kind of cowboy, very cowboy, but psychedelic,” he explains. The process also brought pressure: after building such a solid discography, any new move carries expectations. But Maverick has learned not to let that paralyze him. “If the things I’m recording make sense to me and make me feel something, then the pressure is settled and I don’t worry as much.” 
 
This moment, that of an artist who is already well positioned but still in control of his own rhythms, seems to allow him something that perhaps was not so easy before: to take a breath, look at Delicia's sky and regain creative control without chasing after anything. Maverick speaks from the calm of knowing he can continue building in his own way. “Thank God I don’t have to be in a hurry.”

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