Molly Vulpyne: "I lived in Dublin my entire life and then I just couldn’t afford to"

What does it mean to be ‘punk’ in 2025? Green mohawks aren’t exactly chic (not that they ever were), and neither is spitting at the stage, or bashing out the same three chords at 200bpm. For some, like Molly Vulpyne, it’s never been about aesthetics.

“I’m often accused of not being punk enough by other bands,” she says. “It’s funny, because I’m not trying to be punk. I’m just trying to be myself. Being punk today isn’t about leather jackets and boots. It’s about being an individual and not getting sucked into capitalism; being yourself, and speaking out when you think you should.”

This entails being honest, not just about the twisted state of society, but yourself too. That’s what Vulpyne does on her rocking new album Houndstooth And The Hum; there are sharp takes on the world (by not being on Spotify, the consumption of the record itself is anticapitalist), but there is also space for songs about love, and the toll of balancing a 9-5 job with a music career.

“In my first band, Vulpynes, I felt like I needed to be this badass,” Vulpyne says. “The songs were quite in your face. There was no vulnerability. There’s nothing to be gained from pretending to be this mighty badass frontwoman because I just want to be myself, and that is vulnerable and nervous sometimes.”

‘Badass’ moments still exist. ‘My Expiry’ rips up the notion that ageing and image should stop people from doing what they love.

“I’m in my thirties, but a lot of the punk scene is a little bit older,” Vulpyne says. “I found it surprising that people feel like they have a time limit when it comes to playing music. I would go see a band and never think about their age, just their energy and message. But they’d say things like, ‘Oh, well, you know, we haven’t got long left in us’. That’s a false message we tell ourselves. We get in our own way.”

How many of Vulpyne’s own experiences informed these views on industry superficiality?

“My previous band was two females,” she begins. “I noticed we were treated a lot differently than my current band. I don’t know if that’s because I’m 10 years older. I think people thought we were two naive girls. Now that I’m in a band with three men, we get taken more seriously.

“There are a lot of users in the music industry, and there are a lot of fake people that will pretend to be your friend. I don’t think a lot of people sing or write about it enough. I had  come across so much of it, especially where it’s an ego thing: people get upset about where their name is in a line-up and that other bands are getting opportunities.

“You could be in fashion one minute and not the next. If you’re constantly trying to be famous and not pushing yourself, it’s not authentic. You can’t love music if that’s what you aim for as an artist.”

Inertia – being stuck in a rut – is another one of the LP’s themes. It’s a feeling Vulpyne knows first-hand. Forced out of her hometown by soaring rents, she draws a direct line between the housing crisis and a wider cultural unravelling.

“I lived in Dublin my entire life and then I just couldn’t afford to,” she says. “It was easier to be involved in a community. Now, it seems like a mission to get four of us together to go to a gig. Whereas before, we all lived in the same area, so that loss of connection is that inertia feeling as well.

“A lot of venues are closing or being taken over. Everything’s a hotel, chain high street name. I have a bit of a sense of mourning for what Dublin used to be like. It’s been a major shift over the last two years and I think it’s capitalism, unfortunately.”

• Houndstooth And The Hum is out now.