Rona Mac is a queer, alt-folk artist from the rural landscapes of west Wales. Blending the gentle intimacy of folk with a constant element of artist experimentation, she’s carved a path as an independent, grassroots musician. Her career, deeply personal and laced with emotional narratives, reflects themes of love and loss, as well as her own tribulations with mental health. Following the release of poignant single ‘Buttercup’, Rona is set to unveil her second album Honeymilk and Heavy Weather on October 11th—an 11-track journey of grief, friendship, and the fragile beauty of life.
‘Buttercup’ was recorded on a dictaphone, something that helps capture a specific emotional moment in your performance. How do you decide when a recording’s rawness adds to the authenticity of a song, and when it might need more polish?
If I feel like I was really ‘in’ the song when I was recording the take, then I think that comes across. It’s less about polish, and more about meaning for me. I will still ‘produce’ the song in terms of how it sounds – the width and depth of the sound, any reverb, compression or warmth that can be added to bring more to the recording. But sometimes – why overcomplicate it?
‘Buttercup’, and some of your upcoming album, ‘Honeymilk and Heavy Weather’ (which is beautiful by the way!), is heavily influenced by personal grief and the death of loved ones but still views the world in a grateful and positive light. How do you balance vulnerability with protecting your own emotional well-being when writing about such painful experiences?
Who says I do? Haha. My emotional well-being is all over the place. But that’s why I need to write such vulnerable songs, so it’s a symbiotic relationship. Towards the end of producing the album though, it has felt like dragging myself through an old wound over and over, and I am happy that the project is complete and I can put it to rest.
I am a firm believer that in order to make any real connection with people and the world around you, you’ve gotta be vulnerable. What’s the point otherwise? All going around, pretending we are all fine and shying away from the gritty stuff that makes us feel. I’d rather live in a world where we call acknowledge and feel that shit together, and then move on. It is possible to hold the heavy stuff and the light stuff within the same breath – they’re all just life, at the end of the day. Nothing to be afraid of. As long as there is still light to be held.
The album features voice notes and spoken word pieces from your friend Emily, something you say was an important decision. How did you decide which recordings to include, and how do they contribute to the narrative or emotional arc of the album?
I drove my van to the beach with my dictaphone and mobile phone in my pockets. I sat and watched the waves roll in, and went through voice notes of my friend and played them out loud, recording them onto my dictaphone as I went. I then walked down to the water’s edge and recorded some of the wind, the waves, the footsteps, the sound of my keys. I then went home and transferred the files onto my computer, only to discover that I had already done this exact activity a few weeks previous. I had already parked at the beach, recorded these voice notes and walked by the sea. The exact same process. It’s absolutely mad how much grief can obscure your thoughts, make you lost in space and time.
Emily’s funeral was during covid, and due to all the many restraints at that time, there were only 15 of us in the crematorium, and the wake consisted of an illegal gathering in a bus shelter in the pissing rain drinking wine and smoking till our lungs hurt. It was dark, and heavy, and not the send-off she deserved. I promised myself there and then that I would write an album for her, and 4 years later it’s finally being released. She was an artist, and writer, and a songwriter, but she never managed to get her work ‘out there’. Not that that matters at all. But I wanted people to hear her voice and her warmth and kindness and husky voice. I want this work to be for her and about our lives spent all together as a deeply intertwined group of friends. And I think she would love to know that some of her words and voice are on the album. She’s gunna be on vinyl! In the CD, there is a 12-page booklet with some of her pieces of written word alongside the lyrics and some more context to the album – and the CDs will be raising money for some charities relevant to suicide, mental health and hardship.
You’re taking this album on a tour of decentralised locations, away from the UK’s big cities. What inspired this choice, and how do you think performing in these intimate spaces will resonate with your audience?
Firstly – I am not a lover of cities. Especially driving around them, pulling up outside venues on busy city streets, trying to connect with people who have a different pace of life and way of communicating. We really are a different breed, us rural dwellers, and have quite a different life experience to someone growing up in an urban area. I always feel like an awkward alien, especially in London. It’s like I don’t understand the social code. So, there’s that.
There’s also the idea that by going to rural places, you’re bringing original music to people who might not be able to travel to cities for big gigs. Audiences are more appreciative and warm. Living on the most westerly tip of Wales, I think it’s awesome when other musicians choose to come out here on tour. And I hope to return the favour. It also feels important, as a queer person, to be present in those places for other queer people.
You’ve already gained recognition from BBC Radio 1 and 6, and supported several main-stay artists, whilst being fiercely independent. How do you envision your career evolving over the next few years, and what are some milestones you’re aiming for?
I’d say fiercely independent is quite spot on haha, and I don’t intend to delegate too much, but some delegation in the future might be needed. I have loved learning the ins and outs of different aspects of the industry and learning to represent myself in those spaces. But this specific album release has shown me my limit – I have never worked so hard in my life, and I don’t think I can work any harder. Between videos, visuals (funded by Horizons Launchpad), sound, mixes, artwork, hand-printed merch, juggling PR and Radio campaigns (funded by PRS), a 15-date tour, posters, digital marketing, performing, driving around the UK most weekends for gigs, mailing list, pattern, social media schedules – it’s a lot whilst also employed part-time in paid work! There aren’t any specific ‘milestones’, as such, just to be able to keep writing, creating, playing and performing music with the least stress possible, and to hopefully be able to make enough money off it to live. One way of doing that is to grow my Patreon following, where people can subscribe and get access to extra things, or join my ‘closet demo club’ where I upload an exclusive monthly demo.
I also have a vision of being able to tour in a the most simple form – just with a guitar. Maybe by bike, or even on foot. I want to strip it all back to just guitar and voice and stories.