Lately on marlbank SIT BACK DOWN AGAIN has rarely been off the speakers. So We reached out to the Irish artist behind It All
What’s the first song you remember loving as a child and why do you think the thought of it has stuck with you?
Tough question, it’s hard to remember what the first one was but I do remember watching The Mission [1986] with my parents as a child. The Mission ‘Main Theme’ by Ennio Morricone was stuck in my head for a really long time afterwards. I remember walking round school whistling it and humming it like a little weirdo for ages. Beautiful melody though, and very catchy too.
If you had to describe Sit Back Down Again in three words, what would they be?
Autobiographical, Personal, Dream.
How did you first get to know Cian Boylan – who performs and produces the album – and how do you work with him when writing songs: Are you mainly the lyrics person or is it a bit of both?
I first saw Cian online through Linley Hamilton‘s social media on the making of his album Making Other Arrangements. I saw the studio and heard the quality of the record and thought I would get in touch. It wasn’t until a couple of years passed that we actually started exchanging ideas.
Cian would send me a lead sheet with a melody and chords and I would sit with that for a really long time at the piano until it started to speak to me. Then I would play around with it all and come up with some lyrics that excited me and off we would go. Something like that anyhow. Cian is an incredible force and a dream to collaborate with.
How do you know when a song is finished?
When you listen to a song and it sends shivers up your spine! If you absolutely have to have it on repeat because it fills you with excitement and joy it’s normally a sign for me that it’s close. I figure that if it thrills me on some level then someone else might get the same feeling too. I can only write for myself in this sense.
What’s your favourite venue that you’ve ever played, and why?
I was touring the Balkans with a band from the Netherlands. I was the only non-Dutch person in the band. It was an incredible tour for all sorts of reasons. The Balkans doesn’t see that many tours come through so people were so excited and welcoming. It was beautiful.
Anyhow, we were in Sarajevo, and the gig was called off last minute. So the gig promoters, two guys on motorbikes, arrived and escorted us to a last minute new venue. Turned out to be a little jazz club in the middle of nowhere outside Sarajevo. Looked like a farmhouse from the outside. They gave us a bowl of wild boar stew that I’ll never forget, it was so tasty. And the atmosphere in that little club was just magical. What a night! Wonderful memory, even now just thinking about it I’m smiling.
What makes you feel comfortable on stage most?
I’m comfortable when I’m being myself. If I feel like I can just relax and be myself without the pressure to perform or act in a way that isn’t natural to me then I’m very at home indeed. If I feel the audience is receptive to this then I’m never happier.
Is there a brass player – past or present – you’d love to trade solos with?
Frank Rosolino is a real hero of mine. American trombone player. I would love to have met him and just had a laugh with him, he was known for his rogue sense of humour. I’ve never thought of myself as a top trombone player in any sense although I do have a tremendous love of playing. But to share a space with a legendary musician like that would be really cool indeed. His dexterity, sense of humour and sound are inimitable. Genius.
Do you prefer the buzz of the studio or the unpredictability of live gigs? If both no worries but what elevates your performance do you think most in either setting?
Good question. I think it depends on who it’s with. There’s sometimes a very special buzz in the studio that’s hard to describe. Sometimes you know you’re on to something without knowing why. I did a session in Hackney in a small studio called Fossil Studios. One tune just came alive, and I remember thinking as I was playing, “this is really special”. It went on to be a triple platinum number 1 single worldwide a year later. ‘Bom Bom’ was the tune.
Playing live at Montreux Jazz Festival with George Ezra was immense. We took more solos than usual and everyone’s playing was next level that night to impress the jazz crowd. I was really happy with my soloing that night I remember. Which was rare for me.
Our tour manager Trevor Plunkett told us after “Quincy Jones wants to see the brass section now”. We all laughed at him cause we thought he was joking. But then we realised he was serious, so off we went feeling more than a little dumbfounded. Quincy shook my hand and said “you’re the trombone player, right?” I said “yeah” and he said “you were great, I loved it”. I asked him if I could quote him on that and he just smiled at me (I took that as a yes). The great Shania Twain was with him too, kind of looking after him, such a surreal and brilliant encounter. There’s a great photo at the bottom of my website of us all sitting on the couch together as Quincy talks about his love of arranging.
What’s one piece of advice you’d give your younger self starting out on trombone?
“Stop! Turn back before it’s too late, you fool!!”
Only joking of course.
But it has been a hard road and it’s not for the faint hearted. Tenacity is key. There are so many trombone players I’ve met that are infinitely better than me. But you get used to that and figure out your own strengths I guess.
I remember lying in my bed in Charlton in London during my time at music college in a state of despair thinking ‘what the hell am I doing here?’ Everyone was better than me it seemed and life was getting on top of me. I was depressed. But I just had a feeling there were brighter days ahead if I could just get through this. If times are hard you don’t realise it when you’re going through it but you’re developing a strong character. And if you get through that you’ll survive tough times with a sense of resilience. “Keep going” would be my only advice to my younger self because I wouldn’t want to give anything away and spoil the surprise.
Has your approach to singing changed since stepping into a solo role?
Great question! I was never really a singer before I started writing although I always hoped I would be. With trombone you put in the hours in the practice room and you’ll eventually start to sound better. With singing the instrument IS your body and you can’t replace it if you break it so you have to be careful of over-practising and stuff like that. So it’s really a case of getting to know your body and how the instrument works. It’s baffling, illusive and wonderful all at the same time. My voice is changing all the time as I experiment with it.
“I don’t think I ever modeled myself after a singer, I’ve more or less copied the styles of horn-tooters right from the start.”
Sarah Vaughan, cited in a Los Angeles Times obituary, 1990
I think the trombone has shaped the way I sing, I realise now that I sing the way I play the trombone! Sarah Vaughan was said to have imitated a trombone when she sang too I think… I think that’s right anyhow? Maybe I’m imagining that? Ah well, even if it’s not true I like it.
Is jazz foreboding in some ways, do you think, to people?
It is to me anyhow. I’m not a true jazz musician really. I realised a few years back that in reality, a straight up jazzer is not my path, it’s not where my heart lies despite my efforts. Like any good relationship it’s had its challenges.
That aside, I think jazz is, when it’s at its best, a language of emotion. Just listen to John Coltrane play, it’s an articulation of all the emotion you’ve ever had, and then some! He knew pain intimately and because he was a genius on his instrument he could express it too. Thankfully.
But like any language it doesn’t make sense until it’s at least a little familiar. So yeah I think you’re right, it’s challenging and it takes patience from the listener and the player. But like everything worth having it’s hard to achieve but worth it one hundred fold when you get there. And sometimes the harder you try the more elusive it becomes. But that’s part of the journey too I suppose.
You’ve toured with Bad Manners, played with Sam and the Womp during the height of ‘BomBom,’ and joined George Ezra’s band – performing all over. How did those high-profile gigs shift your aspirations?
I remember walking out on the Pyramid stage at Glastonbury 2019 thinking ‘how the hell did I get here?’ I suppose once you live something that was previously just a dream, you start to realise that other things are possible too. Belief is really important, and once I started to see other people’s dreams coming true, the energy from that somehow transferred across to me maybe? Does that sound right?
George Ezra in particular was a profound force for good in my life. I got, and still do get such tremendous self-belief from these adventures.
You’ve shared stages with a remarkable range of artists. Are there specific moments or artists from these collaborations that served as major turning points or sources of inspiration for your own creative voice?
I played for a long time with Dom Pipkin, Paloma Faith’s MD and long time Morcheeba keyboardist. Dom is where my love of New Orleans music really came to life. He had such infectious knowledge of the genre, unrivalled passion and technical ability that I couldn’t help but really fall for it too.
There were some moments during solos with his band The Ikos that really I think profoundly deepened my love for performing in the moment. The heights of intensity it’s possible to reach during a solo when the whole band plays as one and the room feels it with you is indescribable. It’s like everyone’s attention is focused in something akin to a collective euphoric precipice of sound.
Oops I’m being pretentious, sorry. But if you know, you know! And if you don’t then go support live music and find out cause it’s lovely.
George Ezra has been a profound source of inspiration to me, both in his lyrical sentiment, his performance, his attitude to life, etc. I’m still coming to terms with his influence and it shows up in the most unexpected places In Different Forms.
Your debut album Sit Back Down Again is noted for its storytelling—from bar-room romances to reflections on loss, family, and personal mythology. What sparked your decision to finally write and release a solo album, and how was it cathartic for you?
I’d always wanted to write an album. When I was a teenager I regularly lost myself in story writing (I’d attempted a Lord of The Rings style epic when I was 8 years old, but got about 40 pages in and stopped. Alas, Toby’s journey to find a magic flower to heal his dying father is still unfinished) and songwriting. Then I put it all aside to chase this trombone player dream. What followed was a tremendous struggle to make that all work.
‘Life as a trombone player trying to make a living felt like I was swimming almost on the verge of drowning. Never quite feeling safe enough to stop and smell the roses.’
Matt Benson
That all changed when I got the gig with George. Dry land at last! So for the first time I could stop worrying about money… and with that came a sense of relaxation and calm.
It also ticked a lot of boxes.
So I started to think about other goals and other dreams. I would take myself off to secluded places where no-one could hear me and I would write and write and write to see if I could convince myself I had any talent.
Deep down it’s what I always wanted and yes it’s been tremendously cathartic. My life has showed up in these songs in strange and wonderful ways that I could never have discovered with it.
The single and title track ‘Sit Back Down Again’ emerged fully formed, even before you realised it was about your sister Catherine. How did you process the song’s emotional weight once you recognised its deeper meaning, and how do you navigate writing about grief with such vulnerability?
I remember sitting at the piano long after the song had come to me. I was playing it for my dad. It clicked that the song was about my sister’s death and how she would wish me well from beyond and I wished her well too. Verse one is about her leaving us. Verse two is how she wishes I would live my life. Verse three is how we meet again “we’ll sit up on the roof and look down at the folks below”.
‘Life isn’t stranger than we suppose, it’s stranger than we can suppose’
I’ve taken it all as a wonderful expression of grief from my subconscious. I remember waking up and the chorus was in my head. I just knew I had to write it down quickly because it felt important. The rest of the song just kinda fell out of me fully formed. Funny how these things work. As the saying goes ‘life isn’t stranger than we suppose, it’s stranger than we CAN suppose’. And I’m happy with that.
The song ‘Broken Masterpiece’ is described as a journey into the darker parts of the subconscious – a fallen angel, a monster, and youthful fears in a shadowy setting. Could you talk us through the song’s concept, tone, and how it fits thematically into the album?
It was the summer when the horror movie Candyman came out [1992]. Me and my friends got a copy and watched it one night together. It was really scary! That summer me and my friends spent a lot of time all messing around in the cherry tree in my front garden. And one night they all left for their houses and I was up there by myself as the shadows fell and night approached, just looking around me in the silence. Well, I remember my spine tingling as imagined that monster standing waiting for me at the bottom of the tree as I started to climb down. I could almost see it! And that’s what the song’s about. Broken Masterpiece is the name of the monster, with reference to it being a kind of broken angel.
People have asked me if it’s about addiction, and I kinda like that take on it too. So yeah it could be about that on a deeper level… it’s up to you really.
In terms of fitting in with the rest of the album, it’s very much autobiographical, and so fits in snugly with the rest despite the different production style.
Tracks such as ‘Nancy and the Soldier’ and ‘Glory’ lean into narrative songwriting with cinematic touches. Are these fictional stories or built on real stories from your family? What draws you to story-song formats, and how did you shape those particular tracks?
‘Nancy & the Soldier’ is a special one. My grandad was an American solider based here [in Ireland] to train for Normandy before WWII. He met my granny in Warrenpoint before the war. They fell tremendously in love.
After the war Nancy moved to America to make it work but he was so traumatised by the horrors of war that it didn’t work out. She fled America back to Ireland with my aunty Carol in hand and my father Adie, in her womb. My grandfather died in a car accident shortly after this.
Nancy never spoke about him, it was much to painful. And as a consequence we never heard how they met.
So, ‘Nancy and the Soldier’ is a song about how I like to imagine they met! It’s set around the Christmas before he left for the war. She’s out taking photographs around Warrenpoint and spies him coming off the boat. As the focus finds him, she drops the camera. And when she picks it up off the ground she looks up and he’s staring back at her.
So yeah it’s very real and very fictional at the same time.
A message from a father to a son
‘Glory’ is a message from a father to a son. My father and my producer, Cian Boylan’s father died around the same time. So out it came that the song was a message from a father to a son. It’s an encouragement and a warning. Chase your dreams and go for it, but once you get what you want, you have to let it go again because everything is impermanent. There’s a kind of Buddhist realism in there too if you listen to it.
In terms of what draws me to story-songs. I’m a story teller! I used to write stories a lot as a child and here they are again. But in song format. Tom Waits and Randy Newman were huge influences in that area for me.
Reviewers compare your storytelling and styles to Newman, Waits, Shane MacGowan, Van Morrison, Dr. John and more. Do these resonate for you – and how do you balance these influences with forging your own sound?
They all resonate for me yes. I’m very flattered by them all to be honest. Basically these artists are my heroes and they are all deeply in my subconscious and imbued with my musical soul. In terms of balancing these influences I don’t ever think about that. If I was trying to sound like them it might not work? I’m only ever doing what is meaningful to myself I think. Does that make sense?
Yes, absolutely. You’ve also described songwriting as therapy – processing trauma, grief, and loss, while also finding beauty in darkness. Do you see your role as offering comfort or connection to listeners navigating similar themes?
Such a great question. I didn’t ever imagine that I would be helping people navigate these things. But since I started gigging I have had a lot of feedback from people saying it has been really meaningful in their own journey with grief and other struggles. I didn’t realise the power of these themes until recently when a person opened up to me after a gig in floods of tears thanking me for expressing myself about my sister’s death. This person said it really helped with their own processing of grief. I’m tremendously grateful it has had that effect as it’s kind of what I would have wanted myself when I was dealing with my own grief.
What’s your vision for bringing this album to the stage – in terms of atmosphere, arrangements, or connecting with audiences?
It’s all about the stories behind the songs. I’ve had a lot of practice telling the story behind each song now and I’m getting a lot of laughs too and really enjoying exploring the silliness of my life too. There have been so many daft moments in my journey and I love sharing that to an audience. It has been really connecting strongly with people so far so I’m thrilled to be playing loads in September all over Ireland and even a show with George Ezra in England on the 3rd September followed by some recording in his new studio Hotel Québec.
I’m playing alongside my old touring buddy David Klinke Jørgensen on pedal steel guitar for the Cork (14 September) and Letterkenny (17 Sep) shows. And I have an amazing full band line-up for Belfast at The Duncairn (19 Sep) and Dublin, Whelan’s (20 Sep) consisting of Darren Beckett on drums (Brandon Flowers, Madeleine Peyroux) Cian Boylan on keys (Gregory Porter, David Gray) and Dave Redmond on bass (Dana Masters). Its gonna be so electric I cannot wait.
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