This interview is about walking through the thick of it, identity, place, purpose, and coming out the other side with clarity, even when things still feel a little muddy. Maddy Jane opens up about the layers behind her EP 'Clear As Mud Pt.1,' what is to come after, the lessons of the past, and the quiet things that keep her going when no one’s looking.
Who is Maddy Jane?
Let’s start with the real stuff. The quiet centre of it all. Not just the music, but the energy behind it. The rituals. The truths. The parts of you that show up before a song ever gets written.
Who are you?
If you wanted to put me in a few boxes, I’d probably be a woman, a singer songwriter, a neurodivergent, a queer person, a small-town girl, an over thinker, an over sharer, deep feeler and a curious person.
I’m someone who’s trying to make sense of life and people and the world around me. Music has always been where I work that out best.
I’m from Bruny Island/ lunawanna alonna, Tasmania/ lutruwita and that will always be a big part of who I am.
What sets your soul on fire?
Connection, passion and a little bit of magic. Moments that make you feel alive and connected to something bigger than yourself.
Something that cuts through the noise and completely consumes you in the best way.
You’ve always written from the heart, but who are you when no one’s watching? What does being alone with your creativity look like these days?
It’s me pacing around the house, talking to myself, making voice notes, writing down half-finished thoughts and convincing myself I’ve forgotten how to write songs before eventually stumbling onto something that feels true. It’s getting distracted and starting a random craft project and then remembering I forgot to hang the washing out.
I spend a lot of time alone and I need that. Ideas arrive when I’m walking the dog, driving somewhere, cleaning the house, or doing something completely unrelated to music. Creativity feels less like something I force and more like something I know to stay open to now.
If someone was hearing your music for the first time, what would you hope they feel or understand about you?
I more hope they’d feel understood by me or my music more than them needing to understand something about me. Just like, they’re not alone.
How has growing up in Tasmania shaped how you create and move through the world?
Completely.
Tasmania/ lutruwita taught me to pay attention. Growing up surrounded by nature and country gives you a different relationship with silence, space and observation. I think that’s why it features so heavily in my songwriting. I’m always noticing little details and trying to find meaning in them. It’s also isolating and leaves you to your own devices and all your thoughts.
It gave me a healthy appreciation for being an outsider. When you’re growing up on an island at the bottom of the world, most things aren’t happening where you are. It also means I’m pretty no bullshit, honest and that I appreciate contrast like the natural beauty of where I’m from and the brutal, unforgiving weather that goes with it.
There’s a lot of contrast in your music. It can be loud and fierce but also soft and thoughtful. Is that duality something you’re conscious of, or is it just how life feels for you?
Contrast is a big theme of this project, who I am and what it was like to grow up on Bruny. ‘there’s pros and cons to everything’ is my catchphrase
People aren’t one thing. We’re complicated and a lot of those things are contrasting. We can be confident and insecure, angry and compassionate, heartbroken and hopeful all at once. I’ve never really been interested in presenting a simplified version of myself. I’m too loud, too far away, too passionate, too unbothered, try too hard, don’t try hard enough. On Bruny, from natural beauty and the wild weather, to dark history and split identities, to untouched places and isolation. Contrast is definitely the main theme of Clear As Mud.
Looking Back: The Early Work
Before this new chapter, there were the songs that introduced you to the world.
Your debut album Not All Bad or Good connected deeply with a lot of people. When you look back, do you still feel close to that version of yourself, or does she feel like someone you used to know?
A bit of both. I still recognise her. The emotions were real, the questions were real, and a lot of what I was wrestling with then still exists in some form today. But I’ve grown a lot since then, and done a lot of work on myself. I think that version of me was still trying to figure out where she fit, but I admire her for how she did it all with how hectic everything was for her and around her. These days I feel more comfortable taking up space and trusting my own instincts. And I've been diagnosed and medicated for adhd which helps
You’ve supported some of the biggest names, from Harry Styles to the Red Hot Chili Peppers, and your Like A Version was on repeat for so many. What stands out most when you think about performing on those stages?
It’s so crazy to look back on those moments because apart from the big names and the heroes involved, what really stands out really is that I just that I went with it, stayed in the moment, felt all the feelings from stress to excitement and just accepted it was happening. Speaking of contrast, I’m either over thinking or just taking it as it comes and I feel like for whatever reason in those moments I was just like ‘yep this is happening’
Where do you feel most at home creatively, in the crowd, in the studio, or in those quiet in-between places where the music starts forming before you even realise it?
They all have their purpose. Performing or being in a crowd is incredible because you get to share something. The studio is where ideas take shape. Living, experiencing, paying attention gives you inspiration. But the creative moments where I’m completely alone with my thoughts and myself are where I really feel at home. That’s the kid sitting on the island, pouring her heart out to the gum trees or the jetty with three chords and a feeling.
You’ve called this project a shedding. What were you letting go of as you created it, and what did that process reveal?
I was letting go of a lot of ideas about who I thought I was supposed to be. As an artist and as a person. There was a lot of unlearning, letting go of shame, expectations and stories that didn’t belong to me anymore. What it revealed was that embracing the mess and letting go of the fear is where authenticity and acceptance live. The more I stopped making myself easier to understand, or trying to be understood, the more I felt understood.
Clear As Mud Pt 1: A Shedding and Reclaiming
This EP feels like a clearing. A release. A powerful reclamation. It holds rage and softness, queerness and grief, all woven through with Tasmanian earth and gut-deep honesty.
“A Woman Is A Woman” hits like a storm. What did you tap into while writing that one? Was there a shift that happened in you during the process?
There was definitely a shift. The song came from a place of frustration but also freedom. I was tired of shrinking myself or explaining myself. Writing it felt like reclaiming my power, identity and sexuality.
You said these songs are like spells. What kind of energy or truth were you hoping to send out into the world?
A sense of trust. Trust in the divine, trust in yourself, in your instincts and that you don’t need to have everything worked out. Songs are spells because they are energy, affirmations and can shift something in you.
Is there a lyric that still gives you that gut feeling every time you sing it? One that feels like it still holds power?
Honestly there are a lot as I do feel very connected to these songs. A couple of examples are “I could start by taking my own advice” or “what’s the point if its more trauma, got enough of that from the man that calls me daughter”
Now that you’re not holding yourself back, what does it feel like to create from this place, unfiltered, honest, and truly your own?
It’s liberating and way more efficient when you’re not spending as much time doubting yourself or minimising yourself. It is still a journey and I still don’t have it all worked out, but as I’ve mentioned, it’s not about having it all worked out. The difference now is that I’m less interested in whether everyone understands what I’m making. I’m more interested in whether it feels true.
Looking back on Clear As Mud Pt. 1 now, what do you think it set in motion for you creatively?
It gave me confidence to trust myself more. Confidence in my instincts and my abilty. It reminded me that the work resonates most when I’m willing to be specific and honest rather than trying to make myself more palatable. I think it opened the door to be more fearless and now I can continue to build the world of Clear As Mud with that foundation and ironically, a bit more clarity.
Are there any stories you haven’t written into song yet because they still feel too raw, too sacred, or not quite ready?
Always. There are some experiences that are still unfolding and more songs to come as part of this project. But I think songwriting is partly about perspective and sometimes you need a little distance before you can see something clearly. There are lots of verses and brain dumps sitting in notebooks waiting for the right time.
Do you see your creativity branching into other spaces, film, writing, visual work, or is music still your clearest voice?
Music will probably always be my first language creatively, but being an independent artist means having creative control and directing all of the creative aspects that surround the music. So I’ve been branching out through video concepts, visual concepts, art and fashion. It’s creatively about the whole world that goes with the music and that is up to me. I’m either doing it myself or coming up with concepts and working with a small team. I’ve been getting more into repurposing clothes and making my own outfits, I’d love to branch out more into fashion. I’d also love to get into acting.
You’ve described this project as a little bit witchy and a little bit wild. What does that energy look like in your everyday life?
I think it looks like trusting intuition. Following curiosity. Trusting the process. Paying attention to signs, even if they’re just signs you’ve created for yourself. It’s not all about crystals and rituals, although I love a ritual. It’s more about staying connected to wonder and allowing life to be a little mysterious.
Is there something people often misunderstand about you? Something you’ve had to gently correct or reclaim?
Oh for sure, I think I’m sometimes underestimated. As a person and an artist. There’s the old ‘mistake kindness for weakness’, thing, because I’m empathetic and care deeply, sometimes people assume I’m someone they can use, dismiss or that I won’t stand up for myself. But I have compassion until you’re taking the piss. You can be caring and strong. I’ve had plenty of moments where people have underestimated me, overlooked me or decided who I was and where I belong. I don’t spend much time trying to convince those people otherwise anymore. I just keep showing up, letting my work and actions speak for themselves. Opinions are like arseholes.
When you’re not writing or performing, where do you retreat to? What does peace look like for you?
It looks a lot like sitting on Bruny in summer. Being surrounded by the bush and beaches, the quiet, slowing down, standing around a fire with people I’ve known my whole life. Literally disconnecting from the world.
If this season of your life was bottled up like a potion or perfume, what would the label say?
Would have to be “Clear As Mud.”
That’s honestly how it feels. Things aren’t perfectly clear and they probably never will be. Some people won’t understand. But I’m learning to trust the process more.
