London-based singer-songwriter Matilda Mann is making waves with songs that blend emotional clarity and soft, folk-pop sensibilities. After growing up in West London and studying at the BRIT School, she began releasing a string of acclaimed EPs – earning praise for her delicate, perceptive writing and intimate sound. Now, with the release of her debut album Roxwell, she steps into a new chapter.
Named after the street she grew up on, Roxwell is a record of love, uncertainty and self-reflection – carried by Mann’s signature wit, understated delivery, and gift for small details. Already championed by the likes of NME, The Independent, and BBC Radio 1, she’s supported artists like Arlo Parks and Beabadoobee, and is about to embark on her biggest headline tour yet – including a sold-out show at London’s KOKO.
In this conversation, Mann reflects on finding calm in a busy city, writing honestly in the age of social media, and the power of connection – both onstage and off.
If my parents could have picked, I probably would’ve had my childhood outside the city. But especially because I’m an only child, it was handy to be brought up close to other kids. I had a lot of people around me, and I could socialise easily. I think that made a big difference to how I grew up.
I really liked growing up in London. It speeds things up a bit – just because a lot happens. When I was five, it was 2005, and every year just felt fuller and busier. I lived in this little bubble of West London until I was sixteen. A lot of my friends lived nearby – and most of them still do. Then I started at the BRIT School in East Croydon. That took me about an hour and a half each way, which was intense. But it was worth it.
Even in such a busy place, I’ve always found little pockets of quiet, like the river in Hammersmith. Not on a sunny weekend – it gets packed – but otherwise, I love it. It’s peaceful, and the sunsets are beautiful. Walking from Hammersmith Bridge towards Chiswick is really calming – no cars, just quiet. Where I live is quite residential too. It feels almost villagey, because so many people know each other.
I think being surrounded by that calm helps with writing. I try to write down a lyric line or a concept every day. Even just a thought. That helps me arrive at a session with something to build on. It gives me a direction, even if it changes.
I used to write more about other people, but now I find it easier when it’s something I relate to – something I’ve felt or can imagine feeling. There’s so much going on in the world that’s unimaginable right now, and I don’t always know how to write about that directly. But if I’ve felt something in my own life that echoes it, that’s usually where I begin. I wrote a song the other day about how overwhelming it is when everyone’s giving advice online. Every video is like, “I just turned 40 – here are 40 things I wish I knew.” And I’m like, I actually don’t care. I like making mistakes and figuring it out from there.
Of course, I think about what people might want to hear, but I don’t feel pressured. I’ve got a chilled team – just my manager and the guy I’ve done my label with – and they don’t mind what I write, as long as I like it and it sounds good. I work with loads of different writers and producers, and they’re usually open to whatever feels honest on the day. It would feel silly to force something just because it’s supposed to matter. Like, writing a big political song wouldn’t really suit me. It wouldn’t come out right.
There are things I want to write about but don’t feel ready to. Some things are too personal. Or sometimes, I just don’t have the words yet. I don’t usually go into sessions with a plan - I like to see what comes out. One of my favourite quotes is, “Writing is like a fart – if you force it, it’s probably shit.” And I truly believe that. I trust the process. I like it when something unexpected appears and just feels right.
People mostly consume things they already agree with.
Social media can make that process harder. There’s so much content now. And it’s not all bad – there are amazing educational videos and people raising awareness about things that matter. But the problem is people mostly consume things they already agree with. It becomes an echo chamber. No one really learns more than what they already know. Everyone’s reinforcing their own views, all day.
That’s why I think music, and art generally, have this really important role. It gets under people’s skin without them realising. It’s not a telling-off. It’s not a lecture. You hear a lyric and it sits with you. You might not even realise what it’s about until later. But it shifts something.
I watched that TV show Adolescence recently, and it really stood out to me. It got people talking about boys, violence, and the education system. I think education is the heart of everything. That’s where all the young minds go. That’s where we can change things. I loved reading the debates about it online – especially the ones questioning why we didn’t hear more about the murdered girl’s story. But that wasn’t the point. She represented something bigger – all the girls who’ve been lost. The show was about everything around her, the build-up, the culture. It showed what so many British schools are really like. And that’s what good storytelling does – it opens things up in ways facts can’t always do.
I saw the same thing with Labour by Paris Paloma. Seeing her perform it live and the whole crowd joining in – it’s become an anthem. That kind of thing is so powerful. I love it when artists use their platform to speak up. I don’t know if I’d ever write a direct song about world events – it’s not necessarily where I shine – but I do think it matters what you say once someone’s listening.
That’s kind of how I see it. I’d rather write something that connects with someone emotionally – something they gravitate towards – and then use that connection to talk about what I care about. Like, if someone hears me speak about equality or kindness and thinks, “Oh yeah, I like her, I’ll listen to that,” then that’s enough. That feels more natural to me than trying to cram everything into the song itself.
I got into music because I love it. It’s therapy, really. But every year, being an artist seems to come with more expectations. Now you have to post videos, perform, speak up, have a voice, have opinions. I’m not a natural performer. I don’t like being seen, if I’m honest. But I love the work. I love writing songs. And I wouldn’t turn this job down for anything.
Having a platform means people listen to you – sometimes. And if something bad is happening, and you can use your voice to help, then you should. I’m not trying to be a spokesperson for anything. I just want things to get better. If someone connects with a song, and then hears me speak about something I care about, and thinks a little differently because of that – then I feel like I’ve done something worthwhile.
As told to Charlotte Owen-Burge in March 2025. This conversation was edited & condensed for clarity.
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