Any other artist would be petrified at the prospect of following up Crazymad for Me as a sophomore, Mercury Prize-nominated album. Yet, the only terror Ciara Mary-Alice Thompson—better known as CMAT—finds on her third studio album, EURO-COUNTRY, is how good she truly is. It’s a love letter to Ireland, as well as a condemnation of what the country has become; it’s a breakdown of the past and arguably the present, as well as an acceptance, albeit often bleak, of what is to come. And, most of all, it takes tears of pain and finds streams of joy and wit.
A clip of Billy Byrne freeing pigeons finds itself introducing the concept of EURO-COUNTRY as it drowns in reverb, glittering synths, and mellotron. It works as a thesis statement for CMAT: a preface that what is about to be unleashed has been pent up and boxed up by modern-day capitalism. These emotions come sprawling out on the title track that follows in what is, above all else, a political protest song regarding the post-Celtic Tiger years in Ireland. Thompson’s anger and genuine heartbreak permeate through layers of electric guitar and organs, practically screaming at “All the big boys / All the Berties” who corrupted the Ireland she once recognised, now turning into a romanticised ideal in pop culture through Sally Rooney adaptations and the success of Irish actors. It follows a similar climactic structure to the heartbreak anthem from her sophomore album, ‘Stay for Something’. It feels somewhat grittier, given its subject matter, but still manages to reach dizzying new heights of emotional depth with the simplistic, yet effective, hook of “My Euro-Euro-Euro Country (The mam and the dad) / My Euro-Euro-Euro Country (The present is past)”.
The destructive effects of capitalist routines that CMAT discusses in her title track are mirrored later in the album during ‘Iceberg’. The conceit of the Titanic is used to describe the feeling of being drowned by the labour required to find success in a post-Celtic Tiger Ireland. The slower tempo and woozy acoustic guitars mirror this feeling as CMAT questions “Where’d you go, crazy girl boss?”, delivered with a sense of tragic inevitability: how long can a wilful and determined individual live in the EURO-COUNTRY?
Despite these moments of bleakness, Thompson can find light with an absurd wittiness that reaches a level of self-expression and endearment that is rare to find in a pop star. ‘The Jamie Oliver Petrol Station’ is part diss track, part flow of consciousness about the famous TV chef, which is a truly bizarre concept for a song. But, it launches into a realm of such observational brilliance lyrically (“There’s always something I’m missing out on / overdosing on social Calpol / Overeager to make acquaintance / With some normal and nice who’ll explain it”) alongside its monumental production by Oli Deakin that somehow manages to incorporate traditional Celtic instruments within an indie anthem.
Other niche references work beautifully on ‘When A Good Man Cries’ when Thompson likens herself to Veruca Salt, Dorian Gray, and positions herself as the “Dunboyne Diana”. They work equally well on the closing track, ‘Janis Joplining’ that begins with a discordant piano, not unlike something out of a Sondheim musical, and a free-flowing, spoken word verse akin to something by Little Simz.
Even with such comedic references, CMAT can still make them devastatingly moving. On ‘Lord, Let That Tesla Crash’ she uses the car as a symbol of capital commerce, which manifests her grief from losing a friend into a quiet anger. Similarly, ‘Coronation St.’ showcases some of the best writing on this record. With an instrumental that draws parallels to ‘Half The World Away’ by Oasis, the linguistic simplicity of “I’m just a barmaid with no lines who lives on Coronation Street” is met with such complexity and depth in terms of meaning that showcases the musical genius of Thompson. On the lead single ‘Running/Planning’, the repeated phrase and drum beat emphasise the constant battle of moving through regimented cycles for heterosexual couples: meet, move in, get married, have kids. It’s brilliant music, only heightened by Thompson’s remarkable vocals.
I first saw CMAT at the festival that inspired the greatest hit off this album, ‘Take A Sexy Picture Of Me’. Hate comments focusing on Thompson’s physical appearance drove her to create one of the catchiest songs of the year, helped by the viral dance on TikTok. For all its infectious melodies, it presents a greater message about misogyny, beauty standards, and how capitalism has surged these aspects of society. It’s political, it’s witty, it’s sad, it’s CMAT. Above all else, it shows how unfair it is to class Thompson with her peers because none of them can attain the same level of genius presented in EURO-COUNTRY. Now, that’s sexy!
Words by Ben Oxley
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