CAPTIVATING IRISH DUO DEA MATRONA REVEAL ALL IN DREAMY SOPHOMORE ALBUM 'HATE THAT I CARE' |

ALBUM REVIEW | DEA MATRONA – HATE THAT I CARE by Michaela Roper

There’s something special about the shoegaze-esque, guitar-driven soundscapes that have soared out of Northern Ireland in recent years. The whimsical duo Dea Matrona are no exception, having carved their own musical groove from some strong regional foundations.

Their sophomore full-length studio release Hate That I Care was recorded, produced and written entirely by the band themselves – a self-assured and sharp follow-up record that traverses time and space to draw you into a truly mystical realm.

In a dynamic ten-track run of odes to navigating life, love and loss, we bear witness to an effortless blend of influences across rock, folk, and perkier pop sensibilities against an overarching moody background. With musical elements reminiscent of Fleetwood Mac and The Cranberries, alongside grittier sonic layers akin to Nirvana and Portishead, the record offers a bold and youthful twist on familiar frets that hits in all the right places.

Hate That I Care is a romantically textured and well-polished record that truly feels like a project born out of a raw devotion to uncovering something astutely snappy – no song overstays its welcome, all running around the three minute mark almost like tiny windows into the depths of Dea Matrona’s soul. The album’s initial and titular track opens softly, introducing mystically layered vocal efforts from both Orláith Forsythe and Mollie McGinn in a powerfully dreamy lyrical monologue. It flows rhythmically, accompanied by a gentle yet reeling guitar breakdown, into second track ‘My Own Party’ – a brighter, beating toe-tapping tale with a catchy chorus that encompasses a sense of youthful melancholy.

Dea Matrona then take us fireside with ‘A Rebel Song’ in a traditional folk ballad that bleeds green, white and orange with a spirited twist. The track tumbles through religious metaphors with finger-plucked guitars and rising, soulful backing vocals that may feel soft, but pack a lyrical punch.

The album feels nothing short of authentic as it navigates the chaos of self-discovery under the tension between external pressures and inner truths. To craft such an impactful follow-up to their 2024 debut, For Your Sins, is no mean feat, but this duo have elevated an already formidable sound into a landscape packed with raw vulnerability. Orláith Forsythe revealed the project feels like a letter to those around her, “more personal, more honest, and more aware of the world around us than anything we’ve made before”.

The deliberate and fully realised sentiment of this new chapter becomes apparent in tracks like ‘Aisling’ and ‘MAGIC SPELL’ as the band show up louder than ever – the former boasting a haunting sonic attitude crafted from a beating drum rhythm and floating basslines that feel like a gasp in your ear amongst brooding vocal delivery. These tracks shimmer with undisguised emotion, reeling back and forth like a diary entry written only for you to hear. The building piano riff and washy cymbals in ‘Aisling’ are juxtaposed with the drum-driven, aptly named track ‘MAGIC SPELL’ – a temptingly captivating track that sounds exactly what you’d expect from a purple velvet cloak and a melting pillar candle.

Dea Matrona’s instrumental maturity really shines on this record, with each song offering an entirely new soundscape that still maintains the band’s romantically gloomy essence. ‘Summer Rain’ serves as the piano-laden break in the album, a steadier, ethereal expression that boasts a gleaming surf-rock guitar arrangement to draw together the record’s mysticality.

There’s a real sense of the divine feminine running through these tracks, with the angsty monologue ‘Siren Song’ that wouldn’t sound out of place on a motion picture soundtrack. The striking guitar work feels quite carnal – a romantic divinity that shines light on the mythological origins of Dea Matrona’s name, taken from the Celtic for Divine Mother Goddess.

Hate That I Care draws the velvet curtains to a close with final track ‘Told U I’m Strange’. It’s a perkier, brooding closing statement with synth-like elements and an effortlessly echoing bass riff, in a delightfully creepy farewell that truly encompasses Dea Matrona’s attitude. This final sentiment ties together the album’s raw vulnerability, showcasing a confident surge into the spotlight with a sharp sound and impeccable self-production that simply emphasises the band’s exuberant vitality and treasured authenticity. The record serves as a defining moment for the powerhouse duo as they unveil their mystifying journey into realms unknown.

Dea Matrona are supporting Wolf Alice at Custom House later this year, and will be touring across Europe right through summer. From busking on the streets of Belfast to commanding stages at Reading and Leeds Festivals, Electric Picnic and Rock Werchter, their ascent has been nothing short of meteoric.

Catch them on a more intimate scale this week at selected UK record store HERE.

Hate That I Care is out NOW and tickets to their upcoming shows are available HERE.