Dea Matrona: “The Irish music scene still feels like a boys’ club”

“We’ve accepted the fact that we’re not cool and we’ll never be one of those effortlessly cool bands.”

It’s a charming, blunt admission from Dea Matrona, and one that lands somewhere between self-deprecation and liberation.

Speaking ahead of their second album, I Hate That I Care, the Belfast duo, made up of Orláith Forsythe and Mollie McGinn, sound less interested in showing off their success and more focused on telling the truth.

For a group who started writing music as teenagers, the process of becoming visible has been as formative as the songs themselves.

“I get embarrassed by my past self all the time,” Mollie says. “It’s weird figuring yourself out in public and putting yourself out there. I can’t watch anything back, because I don’t feel it reflects who I am now – I feel like I’m always changing.”

That tension, between who they were when they started out and who they’re becoming, runs through I Hate That I Care. The title alone sums up the push-pull dynamic that defines the record: emotional intensity mixed with the desire to care less about everything that hurts.

“We process everything through writing songs,” Mollie explains. “We wrote I Hate That I Care at a time when I was isolating myself from others and wanting more meaningful connection, but was struggling with myself.”

This openness and honesty create the album’s emotional core, from anxiety and identity to unhealthy coping mechanisms and frustration with the world. It’s a shift from their debut, For Your Sins – less masked and more exposed.

“It’s an acceptance of our emotions and who we are as people,” Orláith states. “We’ve grown into it more.”

This self-acceptance wasn’t just challenged by themselves. The duo are open about the pressures of being young women, especially in rock.

“The Irish music scene still feels like a boys’ club,” Mollie says. “We’ve had people say, ‘You have an advantage being women because you get more views because you’re pretty’. But in reality, a lot of views come from men sexualising us rather than engaging.”

It’s an industry that often tries to define them before they’ve had the chance to do it themselves. But rather than letting it swallow them up, they’ve decided to step out of it.

“We’ve been doing this for a long amount of time together, and it’s just accepting who we are,” Orláith says. The songs are often rooted in specific moments. ‘Magic Spell’ plays with the femme fatale archetype, and with fascination and projection.

“It came from seeing this woman walk past me,” Orláith says. “She was so beautiful… and I didn’t know if I wanted to be her or be with her.”

The track ‘Aisling’ meanwhile reaches into heavier territory, written in response to male violence and the silencing of women.

“We wanted to write songs that lift women up,” Mollie says. “‘Aisling’ was written during a time when a close friend was dealing with the aftermath of male violence, and felt completely unheard. We wrote it as a dream of a world where women are believed and allowed to exist without fear.”

As self-producing artists, one of the hardest things is knowing when to stop.

“It’s a lot more work than people think,” Mollie says. “Sometimes we’ll do two or three days of the same vocal take, just pushing each other to get it right.”
But that’s why it matters for the duo.

“It’s always been important to have control over our music,” Orláith says. “We’re lucky we have a team who respect that.”

And what does success look like for Dea Matrona? Mollie and Orláith don’t seem to have the specifics figured out yet, understandably. But there’s one thing they know…

“We just want to keep doing this,” Mollie says. “The best moments are when you look out and see people singing lyrics to each other. That’s what music is supposed to do: make people feel less alone.”

• I Hate That I Care is out now.