WELCOME to Music Luvr Blog. Thank you for being here. This a space for me to explore music and creativity, pulling from the funny little life I am living. Writing for the sake of writing. An online journal of sorts. I hope we can share something together :-)
22.04.2026
i am in the park, positioning myself between here and there and feeling nowhere but also accepting that i am here and that its alright to just enjoy the sun and there mustnt be anything more to do than just enjoy it.
i had an orange and thought about the velcro sound it makes when you peel it- plucking the strings off each segment and how the sound is like ripping the floss from the space between each tooth. then ridding the full orange of form and existence bit by bit, segment by segment reducing it to sacs of juice; some sweeter than others, some that burst more dramatically than others, some that are soft.
and the initial bite gives way to a further softening to just juice and skin and swallow and inhale and peel off the next segment, segment focus on just the segment, see the lines of constellations in the sac, the way it is one contained segment and nowhere and nothing else and then put it in your mouth. and then its gone and open and hollow.
i like oranges because i like asking myself each time what its like to eat an orange before you can be finished with it. i should reply to that email.
19.05.2026
writing because it feels urgent and vital. battle cries of the Viking Splash Tour bus in the background. im in the park. the weather is mild and not one bit cold and there are pockets of blue sky but no sign of the sun. i walked around this morning and read a book the whole time with a fly in the corner of my eye. sort of a ceremonious wake before i plucked him out with my nail and flicked him off to his eternal resting place.
the exhausted exhale of a bus. big inhale of the engine fumes whether i like it or not as it is contained between me and the pavement and always shoved against the wall or the building to my side.
the glowing half of a lemon on the windowsill in the kitchen. dried out but still glossy; a perfect half, a perfect oil painting if i could make it materialise.
ducks in the water.
grown men emptying their lungs of air and crying it out into beautiful music. dont we all want to be in song. like the defeaning chorus of starlings in roost. somehow one in the same. it sounded desperate, a necessity to be in song as much as possible.
everything is green including my jumper. if that girl and i swapped top and bottom one of us would be dressed in all green like a leaf bursting with chlorophyll. the earth smells freshly rained on and everything is waiting for ample sunlight to blossom and explode into bloom.
there is always the want and need to be given permission to shout and scream and watch it float across open air.
today is as good a day as any to be in open water.
08.06.2026
im very tired but i want to write of the overflowing, boiling kettle of music and brilliance. the wonderful thing is i will never forget this feeling for the rest of my life and now it will remain with me forever.
i saw a snail and a fox and a rat on my walk home last night. i stared out into the open space of wide darkness that is the ocean at night time and thought about how it must feel to be surrounded by nothing on all sides. weighted darkness with one blinking eye and the winks of a cargo ship.
and the sound of raindrops melting off a big tree in the park. all glistening in the streetlight. i felt the type of tiredness today that you feel after being on an aeroplane. but im ok. i ate, showered, walked, hummed a beautiful song, played some music, found a new way to hold two instruments at once. life is good and fruitful.
07.07.2026
today is burning hot and there is sweat sticking to my skin. im at the sea. i hear waves thrumming. we are over the brow of summer but it feels as though it will last forever, just how winter does, but also nothing like how winter does.
i am in my red pumps and my hair is wild and overgrown. im watching the gentle ripple and swell of the sea and if i look out at a certain spot i can see nothing only the horizon. i want to have a picnic. i want to seal every day in a little envelope. good to be here, desperately needing sunglasses.
im watching people dive off the forty foot. the sound of the plunge into the water takes a minute to reach me. i had the most beautiful cycle to work in the small hours of the morning this morning. breezing past the bay, watching the sun rise, the morning swimmers slouching towards the waterfront. and i in all of it- sleepy, but alive- so much of each part that it felt like a dream.
something about all of this must be right and complete and it may just be all of it. i love music, and yesterday it spun around me in hypnotic swirls. a jazz orchestra, a trad session, a concert reverberating off the walls of Trinity. and me, like a bird of prey, encircling all of it.
i had strong deja vu today and i love when that happens because it feels like i just performed a magic trick. my manager is pregnant. my eyes stung with emotion when she told me. can you imagine- the blissful unawareness of a life being formed in the very same room i was in, and then realising it? and the thought of how that must feel in the body... the love that rushes to the surface.
as she told some others my coworkers yelped with joy. another baby stirred in her sleep at the sound. the pained exhaustion of her mother as she propped her back into the crade of her neck again. im thinking about it all.
25.08.2026
i <3 music. it is so lovely.
— me, with gratitude
31.08.2026
when i think of music i want to think of something that feels medicinal. i want to think of the vibrations in my throat as a salve, that any and every thought evaporates into a puff of smoke and is gone, and all that is left is melody and song and i find myself completely and fully submerged in it. maybe for two seconds, for five, or for two hours. the length of time is irrelevant, only the matter that song makes time float by so gently it almost stands still, hours and minutes dissolve into a silent shimmering river that no one is around to hear the movement of. this is what music is to me, or what feels closest to the most emotionally intense experience of it.
a festival on the scale of 80,000 people confuses me entirely. my attention is scattered in a million directions, and i am unsure what it is i am supposed to feel or if i am having fun. the smaller stages are usually the best bet, with polite, welcoming, friendly people and i can see many shimmering faces. some still stand jaded, with arms folded, blankly wait for stimulus to entertain them. then follows the shamefully slow tutting sound of opening a can they snuck in from the campsite.
in bigger tents there is almost constantly darting movement, people speaking, peering around, waving their phone flashlights in the air for their mates to join them, shoving past in a drunken stagger, muttering the words or muttering nothing of any discernable meaning. and i want so badly for my focus to be on the performance and the performance only, i want to really feel the music i want so badly to connect with it, but sometimes it does not spark and i am utterly confused. the artist barely knows where they even are; are they in Dublin? Ireland? some festival near the UK but not the UK? how can we all collectively orientate ourselves in the room, the tent, the field together if we do not know where we are?
is this how it is meant to feel to connect with songwriting written so close to the heart, and poured out for everyone to hear? phones grasped in hands, too ready to capture the most popular song of the bunch, heads swivelling around at the slightest drop in momentum, in the interim of tuning instruments. it frustrates me deeply. i am no better, i stand just as confused and distracted but i do not know why. it makes me wonder, is this how music is meant to be experienced? alongside this crazy mass of people, who , collectively, feel so incomprehensibly large and faceless and in such a constant state of frantic movement. all of us ripped from our routine lives that, as it stands, pull us further away from one another, mould us into our own echochambers and leave us suspended there. how are we meant to revert back to the source of connection, of meaning from this place of deliberate distance from one another?
music is so recently a commercial phenomenon. the idea that music can even be quantified into something that can be placed in the categories of good and bad makes me want to pull my hair out a little bit. or suitable for radio play, or suitable for passive listening. NO ART is made with passivity in mind. no art worth talking about, worth screaming the lyrics along to, is made to be background noise. please God, will someone direct me back to the source. get me back to a place where a stage does not have a massive corporate logo looming above it, where the artists performing are not contractually obligated to only drink a certain drink for fear they may be photographed endorsing the wrong brand, or must say a line about why they love the fucking phone company they have been partenered with.
i know when i feel music the most and in those moments it is the most wonderful healing property on earth. it is tucked in the corner of a pub, hearing the swell of a song reach its peak as musicians crowd to join in with their instruments. it is watching my friend leaning hunched over their guitar and hearing the words they strung together echo off their bedroom walls. it is hearing the clinks of glasses silence a room of chatter to listen to someone swivel around on their barstool and bellow out a ballad they had locked away in their chest. it is singing songs with my friends on the cold concrete of the footpath as we wait for the bus home, agreeing on one for the road.♥ it is in my own solitude, singing to the birds or the swishing trees or the pot of pasta boiling on the stove. it is when music feels gutteral and urgent, capable of translating something that words alone could not even begin to express.
music is for the people, for representing the localities the songs came from, not for the commidification of massive brands to swoop in and steal and profit off of. i cannot put into words how much it enrages me that advertising and sponsorships have to be plastered all over musics most innocent qualities in order for it to be profitable for massive events like Electric Picnic. im disillusioned by the whole thing, woefully upset that nationwide public broadcasters are snatching up all the small independent acts, pulling the rug from underneath independent music medias feet. what happens to the foundations of underground independent scenes if they are all being scooped up by some nasally radio host wasp who probably only got the job there because his Da worked there before him? what happens when those reporting on the music- asking the questions, taking the pictures, recording the shows- do not actually care to know the names of the artists, and do not care to know anything of anything about any of the music or pieces the artists have spent years of their lives working on?
perhaps naively, i believe it is still possible for music to feel collective, SPONTANEOUS, and beautiful. and on a deeper level, i think it all comes back to the idea that everything should be taken, given, received, experienced in moderation. it does not always have to be bigger, faster, most sensational, most entertaining, most fun. it is good to be bored sometimes, maybe a lot of the time, so that there might be time for something to spark, stimulate the brain and make you break into beautiful song like a little bird in a tree. something that has stood out to me countless times when i have spoken to any musicians, photographers or artists in the past is that many of their strokes of creative genius came about without any prerequisite- unplanned, unscheduled, unforeseen. how can something so pure and natural as divine creative intervention become something you can buy, sell and schedule? that is beyond me, unfortunately.i hope we all find ourselves to be ordinary and trying- and back in the present moment, and just there, and there and there again and again and again. that is all i want to try and do, all i want to make anyone else feel.
— me, with hope and innocence
07.09.2026
the leaves are slowly changing colour. the most awe-inspiring thing I learned in my (ongoing) humble beginnings as a music journalist is the way peoples eyes light up when you ask them about their work. how, if they are truly connected to it, there is nothing that gives them more joy than digging through the mental crates and trying to piece together- right in front of me!- how it all came together. what a wonderful privilege to observe! i loved hearing some intrinsically HUMAN repetitions from various artists, that the art itself felt instrumented by something otherworldly, that the art couldnt have been preconceived, it was borne from life experience itself. i am afraid of losing art and the reasons we do art to internet algorithms, that shape the way we behave in regards to moving with whats trending the most, instead of treading the water ourselves.
i am afraid that it will become a self-devouring cycle of production/consumption based on popularity. i am afriad this has well and truly already begun. but i am hopeful that human connection based on sound principles still solidy exists in the music world, and one way to fish it out is to speak to the artists themselves and find something to talk about that makes all feel just a bit more human .
— me, longing for connection and curiosity
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