Albin Lee Meldau is doing his absolute best

Yet, the same was almost true for the Swedish singer-songwriter. Finding himself on a better path after struggling with addiction for the majority of his adult life, he's keen to not follow in Presley's footsteps. "I mean, I'm the most egocentric person I've ever met," he laughs. Comparing ego to being the same as his addiction disease, Meldau now understands the importance of stripping things back – he wants a simple life: "I just want to make music, have a nice, quiet life with my girlfriend and my dogs, be nice to my friends and family, and write great songs," he says.

Balancing music and a personal life is often an impossible task. It's why artists call it quits after a gruelling schedule pushes them too far. Or, the incessant need for output drains them of their love for the game. Acknowledging that currently he's finding himself happier and happier in his career, it's bringing the personal side into play that requires a bit more attention – but nodding to this, is partly the first step. Priscilla, the other Presley film released recently, drove the message home to Meldau. Calling it the "saddest movie I've ever seen in my life," he mentions, "that's not something I want for myself, no comparisons other than that though," he smirks.

"You've got to have something to come home to, and try to balance it properly so you don't become the loneliest drug addict." But, there is a catch to this:. "First of all, okay, I'm an artist and a singer and I see myself as a storyteller. I tried to make stories about my life and other things in life. If I haven't got one it's kind of shit to write things," he laughs. "You have to balance stuff, and that's very hard."

Sat in the garden of his idyllic Swedish home in the forest, the songwriter, known for his soul-infused sound and brutally honest lyrics, is musing upon his current state of play. Between drags of a steady stream of roll-ups, the messy-haired, t-shirt-wearing figure talking to me is a world away from the suave musical savant gracing the cover of his second English-speaking album, Discomforts. But then again, he's a world away from the man he was when he began writing it.

By 2020, Meldau was two years into his sobriety. It was at this point he began channelling his experiences into his music. "When [that] started I was in a totally different place," he explains. "The pandemic had just broken out, I was single...I lived a very different life." Discomforts is all about facing its title head on. Where once he would seek solace for any discomfort in drugs and alcohol, he's now offering up what this period meant for him in an album tied through with a loose concept: "An early 30s man who just has to learn to live again in a weird way and deal with discomforts differently."

Speaking with total transparency today, the 36-year-old musician has always been on a path of enlightenment – questionable or otherwise. From a young age, he was granted more freedoms than most. Growing up in a musical household, with a jazz and folk-rock singer Swedish mother and a musician English father, he's a child of divorce who has an inherent internal split. With Swedish being his first language, it was mixing with his father's musical input, the likes of Desmond Dekka and Keith Richards which melded with a strong alignment with ancient Swedish songs that birthed Meldau's creativity.

For Meldau, his output solely comes from a place of conviction. It's what he attributes to his success at home and other Nordic countries. His Swedish-language track "Josefine" has gone double-platinum, he sells out increasingly growing venues, and he's amassed a Michael Buble-esque back catalogue of other swooning and crooning hits over a handful of albums and EPs. But, most importantly this conviction is a key element to his spilling of guts onto the figurative, and literal, page. "Bloody hell I'm fed up with myself," he laughs. "Though, to be able to write about something else other than just me and my life, because it's not that interesting to me. I wish I could write total fiction, but I'm working on it."

Meldau now knows that the reality of being a musician from his young man's fantasy is starkly different. "Absolutely not!" He bursts out when I ask if this is the case. It turns out it's hard work being a musician. On the way to an ADHD diagnosis, Meldau's world is a hectic blast of creative flourishes. He readily admits that "Every day is a new struggle and challenge and I'm blessed and I'm happy but it's nothing like I thought it would be."

His first label deal – with Astralwerks – offered up a long and winding road. Assuming it would be "cocaine and partying going on forever, money everywhere," it wasn't long until the realisation of what lay ahead hit home. Reflecting on his early career, Meldau admits, "That first record deal, in my opinion, I squandered that because I was just high and unbearable. I was too young and too high, and I didn't take it seriously, and I was very sick. I never thought, when I got dropped from Capitol and the label put me in rehab and I had to rebuild my whole life, that I was ever going to be able to do another English album."

Everything for Meldau these days is positive progress. "I still learn every day," he shrugs. Explaining that from the age of 13 up until he turned 31 he was a "pathological weed smoker", growth for Meldau has been a learning curve. "Every year I grow, but I still have these challenges," he mentions of his addictive habits. "I still get obsessed about things, it just changes shape, more or less. Instead of dealing with discomforts nowadays, I still tend to flee for a moment. It's a difference between necking like 14 pints and going on a bender, to buying shitloads of Overland gear and ending up selling it all two weeks later because you hated it. But it's the same behaviour. It's the same problem, so I'm still developing and trying to deal with it. Difference is now you're sober, you can get help and it seems to change and become better."

Alongside this proverbial unloading, Discomforts is a musical showcase of Meldau's strengths. Helped along by producer Eg White (Adele, Florence & The Machine), as an artist, while he has a thunderous crooner demeanour – in the manner of a Nordic Chris Cornell – the music he delivers is an unknown quantity.

Discomforts weaves between the soulful (“Sinking Like a Stone”), the R&B effacing (“When You’re Here”), and even the reggae-leaning (“Girlfriend”) – thanks to his lifelong adoration of Bob Marley & The Wailers. "It's a blessing and a curse," he chuckles at his hot-footed tastes. Mentioning how he doesn't particularly hear differences in genre, it’s more of a case of just making music he likes. Although he readily admits that his first record – 2018’s About You – "Is all over the place. “I was 27 and I just wanted to do everything," he says. As the years have passed, Meldau hasn’t quelled this sporadic nature as much as he’s honed it – grabbing the bits he knows will work best together, even if the pieces might not quite slot together in the traditional sense.

While a sonic smorgasbord is inevitable from a Meldau offering, he's reined in by the fact he wants to create a masterpiece. Inspired by the ones he holds in esteem, such as Manu Chao's 1998 debut Clandestino, along with the standards of The Beatles (Rubber Soul or Revolver) and Marvin Gaye: "You have to be a genius, not fly all over the place! It's not easy. Sometimes lust takes control of you, and all of a sudden you do a reggae song. But that's okay. It's what should be," he shrugs.

Songs are Meldau's bread and butter. He understands the importance of having a track that can cut through be it spiritually or with a swinging hook; "I strongly believe in songs," he enthuses. Harking back to Presley, Meldau mentions while his success was predominantly due to his white-washing of black rock and roll artists, there was a little something else undeniably at play. "He was the best singer, and he was so sexy, everyone was screaming," Meldau explains. But ultimately, it was what he was singing that stood out. "It all comes down to that they picked some fucking gems of songs," Meldau says. Firmly in the court that the music will eventually speak for itself: "There's a lot of great music, there's a lot of good artists, but songwriting is what makes or breaks careers. Nothing else, in my opinion."

It's what keeps Meldau going: he's of the volition that there's no logical end to any of this. It's all about channelling whatever flows through him into the stories he weaves. Almost bipolar, he can swing into "frantic, manic periods" as he puts it, before plunging into the down below. However, he does acknowledge that "creatively, I've never been more happy with myself." While he's riding a high after the past few weeks of dealing with the rollout of Discomforts while also undertaking various other projects, he knows the low is coming soon – the same principle as his addictions – but change is good.

The physical and mental work of being a full-time musician is a hard-earned dream. "It's a big ask of someone," he admits. It's why he's holed up in his wood-surrounded house. With his dogs, who he tells me he went swimming in a nearby lake with today: "I would never have pictured that, even two years ago, that I would live in the middle of nowhere and just chill out when I'm off,” he says. “I live a very still and comfortable life when I'm not working. So absolutely not, it's not what I pictured it to be."

It does seem as if Meldau has cracked the code to avoid the Presely-dilemma. "I love that you asked me that question," he chortles when I ask if he feels like he has things finally figured out. "I mean, my therapist would say absolutely fucking not. Girlfriend would say, No. Mom would say, No. I have nothing figured out. I just try to make music and survive basically, and enjoy it while I can.” And – unlike the King – earnestness radiates from the Meldau of 2024: “The most important thing is that I'll do my best and I'm thankful and that I've got people that actually know me and love me – and that's why I live in the forest alone with a dog."