Begin Again, Again: J Mahon’s Long Road to Right Now
- Ben Preece
- Jun 6
- 7 min read
From the hectic humidity of Townsville to the cracked, creative pavements of Berlin, J Mahon’s journey has been anything but linear. Once a wide-eyed member of Brisbane’s beloved The Creases and later known to many under the disarming guise of Emerson Snowe, the Brisbane-born songwriter has shapeshifted, more than most, through identities, addictions, cityscapes, and soundtracks in search of something quieter, but no less powerful: honest-to-god presence.
We’ve known and loved Mahon—for his music, his mess, and his magic—for a long time now. But somewhere along the way, the trail went cold. So we went looking. What we found was an artist newly grounded, wide open, signed to German tastemakers Unique Records, and still writing like it’s the only thing that makes sense. With a new second album on the horizon and hundreds of unreleased songs stored like secrets, Mahon opens up from Berlin about starting from scratch, staying clean, and what it means to begin again. And again.
How are you, my old friend?
Are you doing well in Berlin? What’s your day-to-day looking like over there lately?
Hey man, nice to hear from you after so long. I’ve been well. It’s been a pretty strange start to the year, but now I feel like my year is actually beginning. My usual day-to-day isn’t too different from how it was in Brisbane—writing every day, recording a lot. Except now I’m more focused on experimenting with writing for other people. Yesterday I had a go at writing and recording a Post-Hardcore EP, so I did that and uploaded it to SoundCloud—not that I think it’ll actually go anywhere.
From Townsville to Berlin:
Your musical journey has taken you from Townsville to Brisbane, and now to Berlin. How have these different backdrops shaped your worldview and creative outlook?
When I was a kid, I couldn’t think of anything worse than being in a place like Townsville, which I now know is kind of ridiculous, because sometimes I feel this yearning to go back and enjoy some kind of quiet life. But I didn’t come from a family where I could just go and work at my parents’ store or company, and I definitely wasn’t (and am still not) smart enough to go study law or become a doctor, so I knew I had to get out and make something of myself.I miss my time in Brisbane—mainly those first few years. Being 17 and living on my own, and then at 18 moving into a share house with friends and starting The Creases. It was all quite dreamy. I enjoy living in Berlin; at the moment, I feel good here.
Transitioning Identities:
After years performing as Emerson Snowe, you began releasing music under your own name. What sparked that shift—and has it changed the way you write or perform?
I just felt like that name had been around for so long. I’d had it since I was 15 years old, when I first created the moniker to show friends at school my home recordings. During the Emerson Snowe era of my life, I got too into alcohol and eventually too into drugs. I think this kind of ‘identity’ I’d created for Snowe ended up becoming a reality—whether I meant it to or not is hard to say.Originally, Everything Has a Life was meant to be the debut Snowe studio album, but during the mixing process I realised it was time to move forward—now that I was clean and a bit more confident in myself. Not sure if it would have made a difference, but to me, it helped a lot.
Berlin’s Impact:
What did Berlin give you, musically or otherwise, that you didn’t have before? What does it take from you, if anything?
Berlin gave me the experience of having to start from absolutely nothing—no one gives a shit if you toured with bands or had some kind of name. You come here and you’re nobody. I only knew one person in Europe—my now ex-partner.When I first arrived, there were people who wanted to write and collaborate, but I was so emotionally and physically drained from the year leading up to the move that I wasn’t able to do anything. At the time, I didn’t realise what was going on, but now I see it as a complete burnout. And I was still using drugs, so that didn’t help.I got clean here. It’s taken a long time, but I’ve found a kind of peace within myself—at least for today, as I write this. Berlin is a strange place—if you don’t come here with some kind of plan, you can get sucked into it and only reappear 15 years later sitting at a bar still talking about the ‘project’ you’re about to start. I see it a lot.
Creative Outlets Beyond Music:
You once worked in an upcycling workshop soon after landing in Berlin. Did that time offer something valuable creatively, or even emotionally?
Yeah, a friend in recovery put me in touch with a guy called Tristan, who ended up becoming one of my biggest supporters here, and he got me a job at his workshop. It was really important at the time, because I was so incredibly wrapped up in the Snowe identity and had this feeling like the world owed me something.“Why can’t people get what I’m doing? Why is this taking so long to happen when others around me are getting Pitchfork reviews and doing world tours?” But the truth is—the world doesn’t owe me anything. It forced me to be grateful for what I did have. I got into podcasts and listened to albums I’d never explored before. I literally started listening to The Beatles for the first time. Haha. I thought to myself, “Wow, these guys are actually pretty good.”
Backstage Lives:
You’ve supported everyone from Courtney Barnett to Ariel Pink and King Krule—any wild, funny or quietly meaningful backstage stories from those shows that spring to mind?
Hmm, not really—but when I toured with Ariel, his co-pilot at the time, Don Bolles (from The Germs), was obsessed with this fur hat that he always wore. When they went to fly to Perth, Don had left his 45s at the hotel and had to go back to get them. Then he realised he’d also forgotten his fur hat, but the promoter in Australia told him there was no chance she was letting him go back again, and that she’d just buy him another one. Is that interesting? I don’t know.
Writing 230+ Songs:
It’s wild that you wrote hundreds of songs during lockdown. How do you manage that kind of output, and how do you know when one’s worth holding onto?
I don’t know how I do it, but I just do it. I’m up to around 800 songs now. Sometimes I feel like no one gives a shit—even about the songs I do put out. It can be quite emotionally draining. I go back and forth on my own self-worth.I’ve gone through a lot of awful things—especially this year—but I’ve still continued to write and record almost every day. It’s all diary entries.
Collaboration & Cross-Pollination:
You’ve collaborated with everyone from producers like Syd Kemp to designers like Celine. How do these experiences outside of traditional music-making feed back into your work?
The Celine collaboration was beautiful. I’m extremely grateful for that experience. I’ve always had this feeling of needing to leave something behind, so when that happened, it felt like a weight had lifted—like now I’m part of actual fashion history, I guess?I don’t know—other artists seem to be way cooler about their collabs with Celine, and for whatever reason, I just still feel great and thankful for it.Working with Syd is great. He gets what I’m doing, and he’s incredibly supportive. Having someone like that in my life makes everything a whole lot easier.
Everything Has a Life:
Your debut as J Mahon feels deeply intimate, like a slow exhale. What were the ideas or feelings you wanted that record to carry?
That was just a genuine record, I guess. I don’t think I put too much thought into it. I just knew I wanted to make a great record. I already had all the songs complete in demo form, so recording with Syd was just a matter of re-recording all the parts again in a nice space.I wanted real strings, so I made that happen. Syd brought in some really lovely people to help. I brought my Berlin live band to London to record the beds in the first week. It wasn’t something I needed to do, but I wanted to mark a moment in time—so I did it.
Begin Again, Again:
Your next album’s title feels like it holds a lot. And those two new singles are stunning! What’s the story behind them, and how’s the album different from what came before?
This album is really something else. It’s extremely intimate. When I first went into record it with Syd, it was originally going to sound a lot different—maybe a bit more Britpop/indie like the first record—but there are two songs in particular, ‘Please Don’t Hurt Yourself Tonight’ and ‘Marina’, that Syd told me should definitely be on the record.When he said that, I literally asked, “Am I allowed to do that?” Because those songs are so intense lyrically—I felt like they might be too much of a downer for people. But by that point, I didn’t have anything to lose. That gave me free rein to create exactly what I wanted.
Full Circle Reflections:
Having been a fan of you and your various guises for ages now, what do you think about your arc so far? Does it feel like a straight line to where you are now, or more like you’ve been circling something all along? And with that in mind—what haven’t you done yet that still feels essential?
I feel like I’ve done a lot, but also like I haven’t even moved. I want more—and maybe one day I’ll get it. But for now, I’m just here. Begin Again, Again will show more of where I’m at.
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