Ellur’s indie-pop treasure hunt for calm: “Life’s been something I’ve had to fight through, but music has always pulled me back”
Ellur once wasn’t sure she would ever reach her 25th birthday. On the reflective track “Lonelier Than Heaven”, the artist born Ella McNamara looks back on the darkest stretches of her mental health, examining how they shaped her relationships and questioning whether she would survive the “long way” through teenage years that are so often mislabeled as life’s supposed “golden age.” In November, McNamara did turn 25, marking the milestone in a way that has become tradition for her: writing a letter to herself filled with intentions and promises.
“My letter for 2024 was basically, ‘I want to get to next year and actually understand what I want to do with music,’” she says, nursing a ginger beer in a Halifax pub. “This is the first year where I genuinely feel different. I used to feel this constant panic, especially as a young woman, because there’s this strange, invisible pressure that you have to succeed before you’re 30 or your life is somehow over. That just isn’t true at all. I’ve finally taken that weight off my own shoulders.”
Five years after releasing her debut single “Reflection”, McNamara’s steady, patient approach continues to pay off. Across two EPs — Moments (2021) and God Help Me Now (2024) — her brand of indie-pop has repeatedly lifted off and come undone, gradually shaping a sound that sits comfortably alongside the work of a new generation of introspective British songwriters. There are also flashes of expansive, roaming guitar work reminiscent of heartland-leaning rock influences, elements that surface throughout her forthcoming debut album At Home In My Mind. The record is a confident, carefully crafted body of work that shows McNamara fully in control of her strengths, both as a spellbinding songwriter and as a natural storyteller.
As winter rain pours over Halifax, we spend an hour with McNamara in familiar surroundings. Just next door stands The Piece Hall, the town’s striking 5,500-capacity open-air venue where she has watched major artists perform and has also taken the stage herself in a support slot for a band founded by her father Richard and uncle Danny. Her parents separated a decade ago, and for the past five years she has lived with her mum, juggling jobs as a barista, cleaner and gardener — among others — while relentlessly chasing a future in music.
“I’d be cleaning someone’s house and writing a song in my head at the same time,” she says. “Music was literally all I could think about. I’d be making sandwiches or pouring drinks, telling myself, ‘One day, this won’t be my reality.’ And now it kind of is — and that’s okay too. The people you meet, the stories you pick up along the way… you can’t really be a writer without living those things.”
On her father’s Irish side of the family, around 30 of her grandfather’s cousins are musicians. “There’s definitely something inherited there — that urge to sing,” she admits. Still, she credits not only her dad’s guitar-driven influences but also her mother’s creative path as formative. Her mum worked as an art teacher and continues to explore creativity in different ways. “She’s a real all-rounder,” McNamara says with a smile. “Once a month she runs these creative mindfulness evenings where people can come together without alcohol, just to slow down, be present, connect, and make something. That kind of environment really stays with you.”
