Angie McMahon’s Saturn Return
She’s one of Australia’s brightest contemporary voices, but even this once-in-a-generation talent can’t resist the pull of the stars. Angie McMahon delves deep into how her personal unmooring led to reinvention, gentle reminders of love, and her new record, Light, Dark, Light Again.
Words by Zara Richards | Images by Bridgette Winten
Image supplied
In astrology, Saturn’s Return marks a time of transformation that occurs every 29.5 years, coinciding with the sixth planet’s orbit of the sun to the same position as when you were born. It demands growth, truth and accountability from you. And, according to the stars, you must surrender yourself to evolve during this cosmic coming-of-age.
No wonder turning 30 feels a little existential for 29-year-old musician Angie McMahon.
‘Saturn Returning’ is also how she chose to open her sophomore album, Light, Dark,
Light Again – a record where she completely surrenders herself to relearning who she is. Released in October last year, it took Angie four years to pen the 13 hope-filled and heartfelt tracks, a collection of songs unearthed through introspection and the need for self-compassion following a period of depression, self-doubt and anxiety.
“I needed to cry, and I needed to meditate, and I needed to talk nicely to myself. There’s a lot of that in the record,” the singer says, reflecting on the period of personal upheaval that colours this album. It’s 10am on a late April morning in Melbourne when Angie appears on Zoom, framed by a piano and guitar case. “It’s a big part of my evolving as a person – getting into my late twenties – it feels very real, like it’s living in the album.”
Australia fell in love with Angie McMahon in 2017 with the release of ‘Slow Mover’, her breakout single that wrangles the feelings of apprehension, deliberation and anxiety inflicted by love. Songs like ‘Keeping Time’, ‘Missing Me’ and ‘Pasta’ soon followed, as did support slots for Father John Misty and the SXSW Grulke Prize for Best Developing International Act. Her runaway debut album, Salt, arrived in 2019 with critical and commercial acclaim. It peaked at number five on the Australian Album ARIA charts, cementing the singer as one of the country’s brightest, contemporary voices.
A four-year break in between albums wasn’t intentional, but it’s what Angie needed to grow. “I was having a really hard time for quite a while between records – my mental health was really low,” she says. “I was feeling the heaviness of needing to succeed and what the next thing [was] going to be.
“But there was a turning point away from needing to make music that was going to succeed back to a real evolution of making music that I needed. Creating art and writing is such an important processing tool and such a gift. All the hope and joy I [inserted] into it was me trying to create a loving space for myself.”
The result is a record rooted in resilience, underscored with the reminder to be gentle with yourself. It doesn’t shy away from the fraught feelings of anxiety and depression. Instead, Angie seeks to untangle that tight knot of emotions through songs that self-soothe.
“I needed to be kind to myself,” she explains. “That became a lot of the language of the album because I was learning that for the first time. I wasn’t aware when I was younger that I was so mean to myself. And I still am, automatically, but I’m growing out of it.”
She candidly discloses that her younger self would’ve cringed at lyrics like ‘I am already enough / I am already enough / I am already enough’ and ‘It’s okay / Make mistakes’.
But on this album, her choice of words felt liberating. “I would never have said that to myself before,” she says. “I really needed to hear those things – I needed to hear myself saying them out loud. I still do.”
For Angie, there’s a strength that arrives from being completely honest and present in her art, too. It’s radical to be raw. “I’m always trying to get better at this in the real world,” she says. “But music has always been a space where I’ve had the opportunity to open that up.”
Vulnerability acts as a compass, she explains, pointing her to the true north of each track.
“It has to feel like you’re saying the thing you really feel. It’s really liberating. And I’m so bored of the version of myself who is not able to do that. I think I’m really devoted to that side of the craft – letting the truth come out.”
Mantras of self-love and self-compassion are married with field recordings throughout Light, Dark, Light Again. Nature became a circuit breaker for Angie as she worked through her depression, finding inspiration in how bird songs, ocean sounds and the movement of trees brought her peace. “Outside felt musical,” she says. “Most of the stuff that’s on [the album] are iPhone recordings from when I’m standing outside, and the birds sounded nice. Then I’ll try and weave them in.”
Angie was raised a Catholic. She’s left the church behind now, but we start to discuss how identity, shame and world belief often feel woven with religion. Nature is something that’s helped her unpick this. She starts to wax lyrical about how Robin Wall Kimmerer’s book, Braiding Sweetgrass, taught her that our relationship with Earth should be one of reciprocity and gratitude; the release she’s found from washing away shame in the ocean and screaming in the wind; and how the trees make her feel safe.
“All of this is to say that, yeah, I was raised with this idea of God,” she says. “And I think I still have that in my body, like there is a God or spiritual power that I like to offer gratitude to – but I think of it as mother nature now, rather than a guy in the sky. It’s much easier for me to say thank you to the Earth.”
On June 7, Angie will take to Hindley St Music Hall as part of her 11-date headline tour across Australia and New Zealand. Her shows are known for being electrically charged with emotion, which, more often than not ends with a cathartic release for the audience (and sometimes, the singer herself).
“I experience a big bunch of emotions [when performing], but I don’t feel unprepared for
it,” she explains. “I feel like it’s important to try and create as much space as possible for other people, and myself, to feel all the stuff. It can be an intense experience. But I also really love it. And I feel like when people are in the room, they’re showing up for what they need. I’m just trying to make it a positive thing for people.”
Angie McMahon will turn 30 on May 23. Her Saturn Return is starting to close, and the world is feeling a little clearer (for now). “I think I have passed through my Saturn Return,” she muses. “Maybe it’s ongoing, and I have some shit waiting around the corner that I’m not sure about. But I think I found some big lessons that I’ll keep needing.
“And now I get to sing them live! I’m just grateful that I put some positive shit into an album because it helps me as much as anything else. I still need to hear myself say this stuff.”
See Angie McMahon live at Hindley St Music Hall this Friday, June 7. Tickets are on sale now via Moshtix.
