Could the real Bambie Thug please stand up? Is it the one onstage dressed like the Devil, wearing stripper boots and a long goatee, smothered in red paint? The one naked apart from glitter in the X-rated video for their 2021 debut single, Birthday? The ouija-pop necromancer who appeared at last year’s Eurovision, performing a televised ‘exorcism’ while decked out in raven feathers, and bagging sixth place for their native Ireland? Or maybe it’s the one that’s been casting a spell over Europe on their recent Crown The Witch tour, donning glittering outfits and ornate gothic headpieces as they rule over their smoky, musical séances?
“I hope you don’t mind,” laughs Bambie today, as they turn up at their PR’s London offices wearing nothing more outlandish than a rhinestone trackie, and promptly kick off their chunky New Rock boots before plonking down onto the nearest sofa.
“That’s better,” they say, not in a demonic whisper but in a disarmingly warm Irish accent. “Wow… I feel like I haven’t stopped working!”
That’s no exaggeration. Bambie has been criss-crossing countries and continents at lightning speed for months. Twenty-four hours ago, they were in Ireland. Prior to that, it was Amsterdam, where they played for 17,000 people at the Ziggo Dome arena for the Het Grote Songfestivalfeest, a show that celebrates the best of Eurovision. That performance saw Bambie battering a demon with a bouquet of flowers before strutting off, a bold 666 cheekily scrawled on one arse cheek as the petal confetti fell around them.
It was the perfect curtain-closer on a hectic 12 months. It’s tiring being the hardest-working witch in the coven, especially when that witch is effectively homeless. Bambie has been sofa-surfing for the past two years, finding sanctuary with friends.
“People assume my whole life has changed since Eurovision, but I still don’t have a firm place to stay,” they admit. “I had been sleeping on couches for two years before the competition, and I still am. Occasionally I’ve had to resort to hotels, but it’s harder to make a home in a soulless room.”
While there’s a romance to the nomadic lifestyle, they know it can’t last forever. They’d love nothing more than to click their heels and reappear in a place of their own. Except that’s still a dream right now.
“I don’t think anything will change any time soon,” they say. “Touring’s broken me mentally, physically and financially. I’m independent and self-funded…” A mischievous look sweeps across their face. “I think labels are still scared of me,” they smirk, a glint in their eye.
For Bambie, the grind started long before they stormed the Eurovision stage. Their musical journey began in the late 2010s, when they began teaching themselves to write songs. Over the subsequent years, they’ve shapeshifted time and time again, constantly reinventing themselves.
“It’s funny, the versions of yourself you go through,” they muse. “When I first started writing, I was writing these cheesy love songs. I was obsessed with Barbie movies and fairy tales growing up. But I moved on from that. Thank God for the darkness!”
Each of Bambie’s incarnations has fed into the cosmic whirl of ouija-pop. While their debut album is still in the works, Bambie’s 2023 EP, Cathexis, serves as a comprehensive tour of their avant-goth palette. From queer-club pop anthem Last Summer (I Know What You Did), to Bye Boy’s rap beatdowns, to the metallic-pop exorcism that is Doomsday Blue, Bambie thrives in their own eclectic world of sound.
Their singles only add more flavour to the broiling cauldron: 2022’s Headbang is flecked with hyperpunk and glitch-pop, while 2023’s Egregore showcases gnashing alt metal fury.
“I love a dance track, but my pop tracks are still gritty,” Bambie explains of their musical playground. “I love dirty sounds – a fucking heavy track just hits harder when you’re performing! And it’s poppy, but it all plays into the metal mindset. Metal is an attitude, it isn’t just about the guitars or the heaviness. It’s metal to be outspoken, to push boundaries, to put a big middle finger up to industry.”
Their Eurovision performance of Doomsday Blue, forever seared into the retinas of anyone who watched it during the final in Malmö, Sweden in May 2024, certainly oozed that metal-minded, fuck-you attitude.
“I remember my director saying, ‘Do we want to go to win? Or are we going to ruffle feathers?’” they recall. “I thought, ‘Why not both?’ I’m not from that world, so I used it as a platform to speak for the queer community. People are scared of the power of queer people – and I’m going to keep being loud, even if it closes doors. But I guess those doors weren’t right for me, anyway.”
Before becoming the outspoken, middle fingerraising figure seated before us, Bambie admits that finding their voice was hard. They may present as a strong, proudly queer, non-binary goth, but it’s taken a long time for them to feel comfortable in their own skin. Born Bambie Ray Robinson in a tiny, rural town in Cork, their Catholic upbringing meant they were forced to suppress who they truly were to fit in. Part of that included training to be a ballerina.
“I went to a Catholic convent school, and I lost my magic while I was there,” they explain. “As a ballerina, there was this added pressure to present hyper-femme. I was trying to be a doll.”
Bambie’s ballet background led to a move to England in 2013 on a dance scholarship. After they broke their arm, they were forced to change direction and study musical theatre, yet the pressure to perform was just as strong. They graduated in 2016, but Bambie just couldn’t take it anymore.
“One day I just cracked, went rogue, and travelled loads,” they recall.
It was during a stint in Germany that Bambie discovered their love of goth culture. At one point, they found themselves surrounded by a circle of seven German men with scissors, hacking off Bambie’s blonde hair – the symbolic birth of not just their goth self, but of Bambie Thug.
“Berlin broke my mind and rebuilt it again,” they say. “I came back crazy goth. That’s where I became Bambie.”
Back in London, lockdown only heightened Bambie’s sense of self.
“I was living with 12 people in a run-down pub,” they recall. “It was like one big queer family. I wrote so much music, took loads of magic mushrooms… I just did a lot of healing. There were no questions if I came downstairs one day with a moustache on my face. And we all had different skills, so we would give each other classes. I learnt how to tattoo myself.”
Bambie’s life is mapped on their skin. Their fingers bear the words ‘Bam-Bee-Thug’, with the ‘Bee’ represented by an actual bee, all self-inked, as is the pentagram inked above their knuckles. Their arms are tattooed with barbed wire, adorable fish and dancing mice, as well as a reminder to ‘Drink Water’. Their chest is marked with the seemingly random word ‘PORK’. Bambie explains that certain pieces of ink are inspired by songs they’ve yet to release.
As they talk excitedly about their “bohemian days of self-discovery”, there’s a glimpse of sunshine behind the Devil-spawn persona.
“People have a warped perception of people who dress dark and are into the occult,” Bambie says with a sigh. “When I’m offstage I am chill. I’m not trying to hex people all the time.”
Still, genuine witchcraft is a part of Bambie’s life. While they don’t actually ‘hex’ people, insisting they only partake in “good magic”, Bambie walks the walk.
“My witch friends have nurtured me – they’re the kindest people,” Bambie explains. “I got taken in by a group of older witches… and magic is so beautiful. You’re just using physical objects and spells to manifest and heal your inner self.”
Bambie’s first credited appearance was as a vocalist on South London DJs Fika & Fabich’s 2020 soulfunk club track, Mean. Their own debut, hedonistic single Birthday (‘I only take drugs on my birthday / A New Year, Christmas, every other Thursday’) came out the following year, and was accompanied by a striking video .
Since then, they’ve released a trio of EPs – 2021’s Psilocyber, the same year’s High Romancy and 2023’s Cathexis – plus a string of standalone singles. Beneath the brash persona, Bambie admits that music is their primary method of healing. After experiences of sexual assault, childhood trauma and a relationship with an abusive partner, they label themself as “a very complex, damaged” person. Even moments of pride can come with a sting in their tail.
“I have complex PTSD,” they say. “So, sometimes, I’ll have moments where people expect me to feel proud of myself… but I just can’t. Even now – I know this feature is an exciting thing, but I don’t feel like I’ve done enough to earn it. I don’t know how to feel proud of myself.”
The separation between the Bambie Thug sitting here in a tracksuit and the Bambie Thug onstage in their gothic finery helps them feel stronger.
“Because of my past traumas, I tend to go quiet when I’m angry,” they say. “Once I completely lost my voice for two months. But Bambie Thug is confident. Bambie Thug is LOUD… ”
It’s a surprising thing to hear, especially considering how they present themselves onstage. Bambie is aware of how confusing it might seem.
“I’m screaming for arenas of people, then I get offstage, get triggered by something, and bawl my eyes out,” they say.
“I’m still trying to learn how to feel proud of my achievements. Slowly.”
One achievement they’re allowing themself to feel proud about is their manifestation track, 2022’s Tsunami (11:11).
“I wrote it while staying at a friend’s,” they recall. “I was starting to feel awful about the couch surfing, I wasn’t looking after myself, everything was a mess… I just needed to get outside. So I went out in the rain, crouched on top of a bin, and wrote this song saying, ‘I’m gonna be somebody, you wait and see.’”
While the past year has been non-stop, the hard work is paying off. Bambie has seen a community of fans growing.
“It feels like I have a cult following now,” they beam. “And the kids absolutely love me! I’m so grateful that parents are allowing their kids to dress up goth, come to my shows. I have no idea how, but they always manage to sneak in, even if it’s an 18-plus show…”
The singer is aware that some songs, such as the fellatio celebrating Kawasaki (I Love It) (‘Feels so good when it hits my lips…’) or Birthday might be a bit too debauched for sections of that following.
“I’m very conscious of my younger audience,” Bambie notes. “I’ve even stopped performing Birthday, because I don’t want to promote drug use to them. I want to nurture them, in a way. Sometimes I think I could do a witch school, encourage them to explore the occult and connect with the world…”
The exhausting rush of the past year shows no sign of slowing down. In May, Bambie will open for Babymetal on a European arena tour that winds up at The O2 in London. The singer is already cooking up new outfits and dance moves to win over the headliners’ fans and generally take their hell-sent drag show to a new level.
“I do want to up the camp, though,” they say. “I might make my dancers start ‘playing’ unplugged guitars. Just very blatantly not playing correctly, maybe have them totally stop playing mid-guitar solo. That would be incredibly camp.”
There’s also a plan to unleash some new music sooner rather than later.
“I’ve got to release some more heavy shit before the Babymetal tour, ” they grin. “I have a few songs in mind. They’re going to be sick. I’m also hoping the new tracks help me decide what my debut will eventually sound like – you only get one, right? So the pressure is really on.”
Of the new singles, Bambie says at least three of them are “cowboy” tracks.
“There was honestly a period where all I wrote was cowboy music. Maybe that’s my future. Cunt-ry Ray Robinson, at your service,” they say wickedly.
We don’t want to keep Bambie any longer. There are plots to cook up, spells to weave, ideas to materialise. Their transport awaits, though amusingly it’s a rather un-goth Lime bike rather than some ornate obsidian carriage pulled by headless swans.
“All of our little goth scene… we’re just sensitive souls,” they sigh, as they pull on their boots and get ready to leave. “We’re love punks. We support each other. So I guess I want people to love each other. Beneath it all, I’m just full of love…” – a booming cackle – “…and hexes!”
Bambie Thug will support Babymetal at The O2 in London on May 30.
