I’m 21 and from Maynooth. Looking back, I was so sure of myself. Since I was 16, I have been like, “No, I’m an adult”. When I was 15, I had scoliosis surgery for a disease called Scheuermann’s kyphosis: my spine was completely curved over. It was life threatening. Up to that point, my whole life had been around being on teams, whether football or in a choir. It was always group things. I did GAA, camogie and basketball.
Then, all of a sudden, I was off school. My life was chaotic. My mam had to sleep at the end of my bed to help me during the night for weeks. It was isolating. Other 15-year-olds didn’t know how to talk to me about stuff. From 15, I felt separate from everyone, I felt isolated. A big form of bullying is social isolation; shutting someone out. If you’re in a group and all of a sudden you’re out of it, what do you do about it?
Going back into school and into those groups and not feeling part of them, that was the biggest struggle. It took me about a year and a half to get back to myself, which is a long time when you’re 16 or 17. I think that’s what led me to the piano and using it for some good. It really helped the songwriting. I went to London for the summer when I had just turned 18, to write and get acquainted with my team, because I signed with management during Covid.
The plan was to go back for sixth year. I went back and I was a few weeks in and I just couldn’t. I started talking to my mum: she’s always been the biggest support, and my dad as well. My manager called my mam and said, “If you are comfortable, we can make something happen.” My dad was quite stressed: “No Leaving Cert? What do you mean?”
The Young Offenders Christmas Special review: Where’s Jock? Without him, Conor’s firearm foxer isn’t quite a cracker
Restaurant of the year, best value and Michelin predictions: Our reviewer’s top picks of 2024
When Claire Byrne confronts Ryanair’s Michael O’Leary on RTÉ, the atmosphere is seriously tetchy
Our restaurant reviewer’s top takeaway picks of 2024
I called my brothers and they were like, “What do you mean?” My friends were like, “You’re joking.” I dropped out at the end of September. I wrote goodbye letters to my teachers. They were very supportive. It was a very rapid decision but I couldn’t be happier that I made that choice.
For that first year, I didn’t release any music, I didn’t play any shows, it was just groundwork: write the best song you can. I started doing TikTok lives. I’d go to a movie and come back and talk about the movie I’d seen to literally five people. I was talking to people for hours because I was lonely. Now this community has grown in a way that I couldn’t comprehend if you had told me that a few years ago.I’m very lucky that the people who love the music are such lovely people and so nice to each other.
I have vision boards. Am I a manifester? Oh my God, every day. In my journal, I’m writing: “I am headlining Croke Park.” People like Dermot Kennedy, I’ve had photos of him up on my wall since I was 14. Not just like, “I fancy Dermot Kennedy” – I mean, vision boards. It was Dermot Kennedy, the singer Anne-Marie, photos of Broadway. He was such a huge inspiration because he’s so Irish in his music but he broke outside of Ireland. He broke in North America. That was so inspiring to me.
Anything can happen at any moment now. If I post a video of a song I wrote right now, tomorrow it could be the biggest song in the world if it lands on an algorithm. Or nothing happens. Until something happens you don’t really earn any money. You’re not given the benefit of the doubt. Labels develop you when you already have three million followers. But what about the artists that don’t have that? Especially artists out of Ireland. I have so many talented friends and we’re all in the same boat, from this small place that is filled with creativity. I’m enjoying the chaos of it, but it’s stressful. It’s scary.
Because I left Ireland, trying to find that Irishness that I inherently carry in me can be difficult. But I was in LA in May. And I went to a shop in a big woolly jumper with my GAA shorts on. I was like, “Oh my God, I’m so Irish, the big Irish head on me.” You can’t escape it.
But I get annoyed now, because I feel like I can’t wear GAA shorts without it looking like I’m trying to copy Paul [Nell’s actor brother, Oscar nominee and famed GAA shorts wearer]. I live with my brother Donncha, and he’s like “What should I wear?” I’m like, “Throw on the GAA shorts”, and he’s like, “No, people are going to think I’m copying Paul.”
I have tattoos that are in Irish. I have one that says Fáinleog, it’s from a song by The Gloaming; it means the swallows. The Gloaming are probably my favourite band of all time. My Claddagh ring feels so Irish to me. Do I have it facing heart out? I do. Hi guys! [laughs]
My mam is a retired guard and, growing up, I was such a goody-two-shoes when it came to my mam. If I was going out, I was like, “I can’t do anything bold. My mam would find out.” I would never have drunk, never done anything.
What would make me happy? I love getting to write songs and sing them for people. If I can have a touring career for as long as I want, that’s success to me. And to be able to keep growing. Getting to play live shows, I didn’t realise how important it was going to be until I was on my first tour. Then I was like, “Oh, now I have to do this forever.”
In conversation with Nadine O’Regan. The interview, part of a series, was edited for clarity and length. Nell Mescal’s song In My Head is on the new season of Heartstopper, out now on Netflix.
