Photo by Audrey Steimer.
“I have my whole life in a suitcase… my little piano and a handful of handmade outfits.” When I ask why she chose to leave New York, MAY responds: “There’s a quote from Van Gogh that I live by: ‘Normality is a paved road. It’s comfortable to walk, but no flowers grow on it.’”
The Dawn of MAY is a singer, songwriter and poet who translates her experiences and feelings into beautifully haunting melodies. An ode to moments lost in time, MAY’s lyrics spark a sense of eerie nostalgia. Her most recent song, ‘New York I Loved You First’, was released back in 2020 and is a kind of love letter to the city. “I wrote that song at a point in my life when I knew I was going to be leaving New York. Home for me isn’t really associated with where I grew up [Melbourne]. New York was the place I really considered home.”
“What does home feel like to you?” I ask.
“Home for me has never been a physical place. I can exist anywhere as long as I have the capacity to make music. When I sit down at the piano, a sense of calm comes over me and that is home. I haven’t felt the need to fall into the traditional sense of the word, but for me home is a feeling of love and understanding.”
“Was that not the case with New York?”
“New York is a place that developed me both as a person and as an artist – elements of my identity that I struggle to separate. It’s had a huge influence on the person I have become and am becoming,” she explains. As MAY speaks, I see the complexities in her relationship with the city unfold as I begin to understand that it was no easy decision for her to leave. “‘New York I Loved You First’ is, as you say, a kind of love letter to the city but it’s also a tale of heartbreak about a place that almost destroyed me.” For MAY, the song is emblematic of her struggle with identity, bringing her feelings of confusion and deceit into a song of vulnerability and honesty.
"Each place becomes a story of home or coming home to yourself."
“And with this vulnerability, there must come a need to protect yourself too, right?” I ask. “Exactly, and with that comes danger.”
MAY is no stranger to vulnerability. “Writing is a very cathartic experience for me. I often write from a place where I don’t understand the world or where I don’t understand my feelings. For me, it’s the purest form of truth. As an artist and a writer, I’m very lucky to be able to have some form of closure or even the last word. Through this, there’s an ability to have memories live on.” She begins to blush a little, “Just saying that kind of makes me want to cry.” While taking a momentary pause to articulate her feelings, I can see the emotion growing in her eyes as she speaks about the value of memories and the power of letting them live through her work. MAY continues, “Then there’s the moment your work touches other people and it’s no longer just personal to you. Being able to offer someone a space where they can try to understand similar feelings or seek closure is the very essence of it all.”
“From what I understand from our conversation so far,” I say, “your work is filled with depth and a careful consideration of the details. It’s a way for you to make sense of your experiences, which in turn makes it a very personal process. How would you describe the relationship between your music and your identity?” For a while, MAY doesn’t say anything, her eyes wandering in contemplation. “It’s really hard for me to separate myself as a person from myself as an artist,” she eventually confesses, “the two are so entangled, influencing each other constantly.”
"As an artist and a writer, I’m very lucky to be able to have some form of closure or even the last word. Through this, there’s an ability to have memories live on."
Again, MAY pauses, and I watch as she meticulously formulates the right words for her next sentence. “Identity plays a huge role in my work and it’s something I’ve struggled to fully understand. Since leaving New York, my identity has been constantly questioned and challenged,” she begins, and soon it feels like I’m talking to an old friend. “I think through this struggle, there’s always going to be a pivotal moment, right? I haven’t released any music in a while, and it may seem like I’ve stepped away entirely. But stepping away was important for me to reflect and consider my future as an artist. With this in mind, I’m no longer going to be The Dawn of MAY. I’ve been writing new music and reinventing my style.”
“So, can we expect a new chapter for The Dawn of MAY?” I ask.
“Definitely. I’m in a phase of metamorphosis where I’m changing and evolving. Since being on the road, engaging with new people and on a constant quest for beauty, I have been able to further my understanding of myself. In turn, it’s only natural that my musical identity and my writing have also evolved within this newfound sense of connection to myself.”
As featured in SLEEK 74 – IDENTITY. Available in print and digital here.
The Dawn of MAY is an Australian chanteuse, songwriter and artist. Having showcased the ground-breaking ‘Ballerino’ in 2017, a smoky piano-driven ode to a moment lost in time, MAY released her debut EP in late 2018. MAY represents a powerful new female voice in contemporary music.