Matt Farley Won’t Stop: In conversation with the prolifically silly songwriter

In early May, Matt Farley released his 464th album (according to his total, but who’s keeping track?) titled Song High School Songs Fun. The album cover is a photo of him smiling like he’s being held at gunpoint, draped in a gray blanket, presumably a selfie taken in one shot at his house. He has released over 25,000 songs under artist names such as The Very Nice Interesting Singer Man, who is credited for this latest collection, as well as The Great Weather Song Person; The Hungry Food Band; and of course, The Odd Man Who Sings About Poop, Puke, and Pee, to name a few.

Like many other Farleyheads, the first song I heard was “The Poop Song,” by The Toilet Bowl Cleaners. When I spoke with him, sitting in his screened-in porch at his home in Massachusetts while his kids played in the backyard, he explained that he started the alias of The Odd Man as a competing artist to the Toilet Bowl Cleaners, saying, “I like to imagine they’re fighting for the market.” While “The Poop Song,” is a common first glance into his label’s (Motern Media) multiverse of madness, it’s only a peek into what I soon discovered was a sprawling and surprisingly diverse range of songs, from toilet talk to overly specific apologies to singing about towns in MA. Farley’s personal favorite “jokey” song of his repertoire is a different poop song, the undeniably catchy “Poop Into a Wormhole,” which concludes with Farley crooning “I’m gonna empty my bladder onto some dark matter.”


A lifelong musician, Farley put out his first novelty album in 2007 after noticing that when he put out albums with his band Moes Haven — what he calls his “no joke” music — the two songs on the album that were weird or jokey would garner the most attention. He decided to put out a solo album about celebrities, under the alias Papa Razzi and the Photogs (Dream Girls, with opening track “Natalie Portman”). He followed that release with Go Red Sox! by The Boston Baseball Band.

These first albums were experiments for Farley. He says, “It was the summer of ’07 and I put them out, gave it a few months. Each album was earning me, I don’t know, $10 or $15 a month. And I was like, okay, yeah. That’s enough.”

From there on out, Farley started pumping out 50 songs a month, eventually working up the stamina to produce 150 songs a month. The money he earned off the songs was a slower process. After a few years of making albums at that pace, he says he was making about $400 a month.

Today, he is back to a quota of 50 songs a month, which he admits feeling a bit guilty about. I assure him that it’s still an impressive feat, which he counters with, “Guilt is a good thing, I think. I wouldn’t produce anything if I wasn’t filled with guilt at all times… I embrace it.”

I asked Farley how he gets past the dread of producing creative work that artists, musicians, and writers often feel. I’m curious about how he manages to get out of his own way and produce that volume of work.

“What happens to a lot of people is they become critical — they get to a certain point in something and then they get critical about it and down on themselves and they say it isn’t any good. And then they surrender. What I say is, it’s not your job to determine if it’s good or not. It’s just your job to make it.” He continues, “And I mean, I have put out so many songs that I’m completely embarrassed by. If you hit shuffle on my whole catalog, what comes up will probably make me cringe. But what’s funny is, the ones that make me cringe are often the most popular ones. So it’s like, hey, what do I know?”

The family cockapoo Pippi sniffs at my feet before hopping up on the patio furniture. Emmy the cat appears out of thin air, jumping down from a perch I didn’t notice earlier. Elizabeth, his wife, comes home from work and starts joking with him from the kitchen as she prepares dinner for the kids.

A star in her own right, acting in several of Farley’s independent films, Elizabeth came up with the idea for his movie, Evil Puddle, which is currently in production. Farley tells me that most of his movies are cast with performances by his begrudging yet supportive friends and family, including his latest movie, Heard She Got Murdered (the comedic sequel to the 2021 drama Heard She Got Married). Based on the featured movies on his website, I count 17 movies within Motern Media’s filmography to date.

Farley is busy, but not too busy for a phone call. While we are talking, his cell phone rings. I imagine he is going to say it’s spam when he checks the caller ID, but instead he tells me, “I get random calls from fans, want to see if this is one?”

The man who answers sounds vaguely Southern and friendly. They talk like familiar friends, instead of two strangers talking for the first time. The man tells Farley he is calling from San Antonio and says he had just heard Farley’s number in one of his songs.

Farley replies, “I’ve got a song about San Antonio. Have you found that? I’ll text it to you if you don’t mind.”

Before they get off the phone, the man suggests an idea for a song about the Facebook group he is in for people who share his first and last name. Farley thanks him for the idea and they hang up.

“Sometimes it’s just heavy breathing and they get nervous because they can’t believe you actually answered,” he says, unfazed. The San Antonio caller had remarked on this, marveling that Farley puts his real phone number in his songs. “I wake up to a lot of voicemails.”

Much like his pace of songwriting and moviemaking, Farley isn’t afraid to accept what comes into his creative field of vision and press the green go ahead button. “I’m really a first ring answer. Most people see an unknown number and they let it ring.”

To check out Farley’s work, head to