What I Still Believe

There can be undoubtedly, a deluge of information in our media spheres eliciting outrage, sorrow and despair. Through the lense of media overwhelm, it can seem that there is nothing to cherish and nothing to believe in, it can seem that there is only sham, exploitation and brutality.

There are these things. They do exist.

What do I believe against this backdrop? Despite the deep suffering that leaves us perplexed and dejected, I believe that it is still a beautiful world. I believe in the power of music and art, and songs in particular, to elevate, to soothe and to make sense of the world. Thankfully, music can take us to sacred places and for me, this has happened time and time and time again.

To Name A Song

I’m going way back to the first song on my second album, a song called Antelope March. I love this song, it was really fun to put together.

I was rehearsing in a rehearsal room in Harold’s Cross, in a room next to a stable where horses were kept. On the drumkit there, I tapped out a simple rhythm which became the foundation of the song. I had a working title of ‘Antelope’ drawn from a lyric:

An antelope walks across the kitchen, silent and noble she knows what I’m thinking.

As I worked on it over a number of months, I changed the working title to Antelope January, Antelope February and then of course Antelope March. I was working with a great producer at the time, Jimmy Eadie, and in his special studio in Bow Lane in Dublin (now sadly a hotel or something similar) I shared Antelope March with him. He commented that it was a strange title. I said nothing and reflected on how it worked well with the atmosphere of the song, suggesting marching Antelopes and fantastical vistas.

I love to stay open to these cosmic whisperings, to surrender control and hear suggestions beyond myself.

Yma, either side

Yma Sumac. A South American singer whose singing was sometimes described as birdlike. She comes from an entirely different tradition to me and I am not quite sure how I learned about her, but I got a sense that she was a determined person and committed to her art and to her vision of singing. I felt mysteriously compelled to write her into a song and this was the last track on the album ‘The Soft Animal’.

At the time our drummer was going through a big change in his life and I felt really sad about it. In fact that specific session had an air of profound melancholy. I remember going back out to the studio on my own after a break and being very upset. But in spite of this or maybe because of this, we ended up making something quite lovely. Enda played a lonely lead guitar, very haunting.

What of this? Sometimes these strong emotions can fuel something powerful. Sometimes they can derail the whole process. I’ve experienced both these things. In this case, I think it helped.

P

Before the Shape Emerged

Often I find myself grappling and a little frustrated with some incomplete element which I’m working on: a song, a lyric, a bassline. It’s good to look back when I get to the end.

This is a little film of my son on a very peaceful (and cold) beach in Sligo, looking for sea shells. The soundtrack is a voice memo of the song which later became ‘South Star’ on ‘Keg’. In the background of the voice memo you can hear the sounds of living! And in the latter part of the video you can hear the final, studio recorded version. All the ingredients for ‘South Star’.

On the Lyrics of 'Breaking'

On the quest of a breaking wave

In the hollow of a breaking heart

In the glare of a breaking dawn

Things break apart

- Breaking (from Keg)

A breaking heart, a breaking dawn, a breaking wave: different kinds of breaking. These are some of the lyrics from a song that I wrote sometime around 2020. Obviously a time when it seemed things were breaking. It can still seem that way.

But the song has other particles to challenge the sense of fragmentation, sung in a counterpoint to the above lyrics.

We all clapped, clapped our hands and danced, when the daffodils grew,

We all clapped our hands, clapped our hands and danced when the swallows flew,

We all clapped our hands, clapped our hands and danced, when they opened town

We all clapped our hands, clapped our hands and danced, when the walls came down.

These are optimistic scenes, maybe naively so, but for me, a little optimism can go a long way - can give something to hang your hat on. To me, that’s more motivating than endless scenes of darkness. Music is a good medium for this type of reflection as it doesn’t stand still, it can change, go dark and then light, be broken, be whole.

Production Questing in 'Breaking'

It was pointed out to me that a few of the production choices employed on ‘Breaking’ were synthetic versions of organic things. The omnichord is a take on the autoharp, and it sounds like it’s breaking apart as it shimmers. In the background of the song there’s a choral sound, I think it was made within a Mellotron plugin I use in Logic Pro. The choir sounds like an approximation of a choir. I think it sounds really lovely against Justin Grounds beautiful strings. The drum machine that underpins the song is like the memory of a drumbeat.. I almost took it out.

The dual vocals are actually a little ragged. I don’t know that this was deliberate but it fit a song called ‘Breaking’.

So there’s a kind of tension between the organic and the synthetic. These are choices you consider in production, you search and then you hope they fit. Sometimes in hindsight you can rationalise why you did something but it didn’t feel like a rational decision when you made it. Sometimes you just want something that sounds like another land.

Old Ghosts Still Speak

I have a few songs from my past releases that I think deserve a second look…I shared ‘Yma’ with you a few weeks ago, from The Soft Animal, which is one such song, understated but I love its mood still, cold and melancholy.

Another song like this, which I think deserves a second look is ‘Breaking’ from the album Keg. I’ve written about the process of recording this album previously, it being recorded in the wake of the death of a very close friend. That threw a dark shadow over the album and the recording gave me something to focus on through the deep grief.

I feel a little regretful that some of these songs didn’t get a whole lot of attention. Not deeply disappointed, now, I’m happy with the work and I always have that, but I think some of the songs on Keg are among my best songs. It got a little play and some nice shout-outs but some of my earlier songs got more attention. It's just kind of curious. 

‘Breaking’ was a song I recorded with Julie McLarnon in her studio in Newry (images below). It was a very satisfying creative exploration. I had written the song as a sort of hope for someone, that their life would blossom. That was written with my family in mind - I want to see you grow into a lifetime in bloom is the refrain. It’s also a reflection on courage and facing down difficult things and how that leads to growth.

The second verse of the song is a harmonised glossolalia and departs from the lyrics of the opening verse as the words have no meaning and really are just a made up language. I was listening to Cocteau Twins when I wrote it I think!

The latter part of the song features the beautiful playing of Justin Grounds on violins and a cascading vocal that reflects on things breaking apart. Stephen Kiernan played the rolling drums, very instinctive playing.

On the crest of a breaking wave / in the hollow of a broken heart / in the glare of a breaking dawn / things fall apart

I love the bass tones in this song as well as the fun drum machine that introduces the track. The bass notes were played on an organ, on the bass pedal, so they are a very low, resonant tone. This was very satisfying to play and was Julie’s idea. Also Julie’s idea was to use an Omnichord which is that shimmery, synthetic sound which you hear. It’s quite like an autoharp which I’ve used plenty but it’s an electronic, analogue sound. Works very well as it sounds like things coming apart. I think Julie pushed this song in quite a Sparklehorse direction. I added in some choral keyboards at home.

Maybe this song got buried but I hope you discover it and enjoy it. Listen below.

P

Into the Search

Dear Reader, I wanted to share a new song. But it is a song that is far from finished. It’s just a kernel. Since I first recorded this voice memo I’ve changed the lyrics, and it’s moved from a sort of sparse PJ Harvey nylon string demo (which you can hear initially) to a bigger shoegazy atmospheric, Slowdive inspired thing. I didn’t really intend to write in either vein but when I listened back these artists were the most obvious references.

The lyric also has changed from filler lines that I really would never include, to something that struck me as a really cool idea for a song. I read that Ireland’s oldest man died at the age of 107 recently. His name was Joseph Veselsky and he immigrated to Ireland after the second world war. He was an amazing table tennis player, a jeweller and a survivor of the holocaust. His story stuck in my head for a few days after reading it. I’d written a melody on Christmas Day and when this was in the news in early January I began to wind it in to the song.

Songs for me take a little while to write. I have to sit with them for some time. Usually there’s an initial burst and I get curious about combining influences or lyrics. For a time, the melody just circles and circles, over and over until the phrasing fits the music. Sometimes I try to balance an interesting turn of phrase that makes sense with something that doesn’t make obvious sense..at least initially.

So this is an unresolved thing and I’m not sure where it will go. Isn’t that how life is sometimes?

Ever Towards Uncertainty, In Work and Life

Dear Reader,

Like lots of Irish teenagers, I went to Irish college during the summer holidays. Here we met other young people from all over Ireland, in the hope of bettering our command of the Irish language. It was an immensely fun three weeks and a great social experience. We were split into various houses and sometimes we were tasked with putting on a show or some production for the whole college. I remember once being appointed to write a play for my group. I remember my surprise when the wild boys in our house were happy to go along with my creation; a patchwork quilt of X-Files, Friends, Breakfast at Tifany’s and grunge- a mash up of whatever influences were in the cultural ether during the 90’s - with no recognisable narrative arc! But like so many creative projects, it was all about the process rather than the product. I clearly recall a moment of bemused resignation as the ‘play’ unfolded…a moment where I let go of the idea of a fixed destination.

A willingness to step back and trust the journey has proved a really important lesson in my life. In my day job as a special education teacher - after the planning and the targeting and the reflection that goes with the job - I’ve grown more comfortable with not knowing exactly how something is going to end up. I work often with students with general learning disability and every year we do a play or some creative project together. When I’m not exactly sure how it’s going to pan out that’s when I feel I am on an interesting path. That can be scary. But that process, that uncertainty, is something I’ve grown more open to.

All the best,

Pearse

PS. Playing Anseo in Camden Street Dublin on January 25th for Little Gem, the brill, the varied.

On Affection

Dear Reader,

When I was a child and say, crossing the road, I remember my mother holding my hand and squeezing it as we waited for traffic to pass, sometimes so much it would even hurt a little. She would give such loving squeezes frequently, in shops, in church, waiting for the doctor. It's something I understand now as a parent - that physical urge to convey a great love. 

  You squeezed my hand with affection, I'm your boy 

I sing this at the end of 'Last Days'. The meaning changes in the context of the song, perhaps, but that's one of the memories behind that lyric. Here's the lyric video

Of Yma, In Two Places

Dear Friends,

I know friends who have a strong connection to one place whilst living in another. I’ve experienced this myself when living in different parts of the world… it can be a time when you feel connected to home, ironically. 

The idea of having feet in two locations is something which echoes in my music. Sligo and Dublin are both places that awaken something in me; the one in stillness, the other in its night alive. 
 

I think this kind of duality can be a very nourishing thing. I had it when growing up - living in Sligo but frequently going to see family in Dublin and Galway (I guess that makes three places! Maybe a triad, trinity or trio!?). 

This little video uses a song called ‘Yma’ which is buried deep on my album ‘The Soft Animal’. Even more on that another time.

P

'Last Days' at The Annesley House

December 3, 2025

Dear Reader,

Thank you for dropping by.

Here is a video for a song called ‘Last Days’. It was filmed by Alek Nowak and Ewa Respond at our recent gig in Annesley House on November 29th 2025.

A very big thank you to Ewa and Alek for their beautiful film.

Alek and I had been talking about making something together and when we put our heads together we thought this would be a good chance. So we recorded the gig live, with some help from Jackie at the venue and now have a little keepsake of the show. We hope you enjoy the film and the music from me, Enda, Billy and Morgan.

P

Of Light and Dark (December 31st 2025)

Hi there,

I knew a man who once got into a lot of debt through gambling. In several ways his life grew chaotic. He was also a very good artist though, and when he performed he was so compelling and very funny. I guess he just had a wild fire in him.

This song is about being in a dark place but finding moments of light in spite of such a situation. It’s about not letting go of a higher aspiration or ambition.

Thank you for sharing your year with me in whatever capacity you did: in music, in gigs, in family, in work, professionally or unprofessionally, from a distance or up close. I love to share my days with you. 

2025 was a good one personally and musically..I released the ambient EP The Falls which you may have heard, moved house with my dear family, had some great gigs, saw some great gigs, (think Warren Ellis at Vicar St was the highlight), read some very decent books, did the Dublin marathon (falling just outside my target!) and so, and so and so into next year....what are your ideas, plans, projects, vague notions? I’d love to hear. 

I hope to develop this newsletter connection in 2026...we'll see how we go. 

Wishing you good fortune and buoyancy, 

P