On the Rise
maehem99

Between photo edits, AI’s digital reformatting, social media’s filters, and unfiltered community commentary, it’s no mistake that our current cultural fears lean toward body horror and the abject abstraction that comes from it. What is the true cost of “beauty”, and who is it really for? London-based Irish-South African artist Mae O'Neill is tearing down the curtain between image and reality as maehem99, with debut EP Sexual Commerce, revealing their former life as a model and stepping onstage in a whole new light.

“I think modelling was something that really saved me when I was younger. It kept me off drugs, it gave me money,” O'Neill says to me with a raw sincerity. While their relationship to the fashion industry is strained, it’s no accident that O'Neill fell into modelling – it was once a lifeline. Raised in a strictly religious household, they found themself knee deep in the goth and punk scenes of Dublin, escaping into vampire films and fleeing home at eighteen. “I just remember one day, I was walking around Dublin for hours and hours,” O'Neill recounts. 

“It was raining and I had these awful Doc Martens. I remember the rain coming through the holes in my boots. I was soaked and I didn’t have any money to sit down anywhere, and I just remember looking up at the sky. I decided, ‘I’m going to have a good life and I don’t care how I get it.’” 

O'Neill's own determination became their evolution. They found a job at a shisha bar, saved €800, and found their way to London where they walked tirelessly to 36 agencies in the city, eventually getting signed by the 37th. “I somehow deluded myself into being a model,” they laugh.  

But what O'Neill brushes off as a bit of a pipe dream comes from their own ardent tenacity, ultimately translating to a natural knack for musical composition. “I think music is the one skill that I have that has nothing to do with how I look,” they admit, expressing their desire to define their own image. Ultimately, high fashion is heavily based on the commodification of femininity, which can be all the more difficult to navigate as someone not decidedly feminine. “Ever since coming out as nonbinary, I don’t want to do anything that makes me look hyperfeminine anymore.” 

O'Neill is undeniably charming and earnest. As we chat through our computers, an eight-hour time difference and a full ocean apart, I cannot help but relate. I, too, am a nonbinary artist, and while it can be enriching to explore the bounds of gender in all its vast expressions, being forced into these boxes can be mentally taxing, even when it’s not being used as a commodity. In tumultuous times, O'Neill found their way however possible – even if it meant learning to produce in secret to avoid being berated by an ex-partner. After a lifetime of seeking stability, they have now found earth beneath their feet, offering stability to spread their wings as a musician and be an artist on their own terms. 

Sexual Commerce dissects the self, cutting through flesh and bone to expose the raw beating heart that lies within. “Burn Your Wishes” begins the EP tenderly: “You don’t like that I pray to god / In a world that’s done you so wrong.” Softly, maehem99 croons to the past, recounting what was meant to be a sweet moment, burning the wishes of a companion as astrological ceremony, only to accidentally (almost symbolically) drop them in the sewer. 

Following this melancholic memory, track “Sexual Commerce” leaves maehem99’s hands dirty. It goes on to gracefully rip into the insidious sexual exploitation of the fashion industry. Amid pulsing beats and sultry vocals, it bridges the gap between O'Neill's personal identity and their commodified body, walking a fine line between wanting to be seen, and questioning “How did I get here?” 

“‘Industry Girls’ [is] meant to be fierce,” O'Neill notes of the interlude track. “It’s a real voice note from a girl in the industry, and I felt it was so weirdly reflective of how tough all these girls are, even though they go through so much.” A bit cheeky, “Industry Girls Interlude” cuts tension with a knife. Sexual Commerce may be a restless recounting of heartache and hardship, but it’s not without reprieve. 

As a tantalizing visual teaser for “I Can’t Be Your Guy,” maehem99 appears dancing on a pole, rocking a “I <3 My Wife” shirt. “Me and my friend saw it in this Camden shop and bought it,” O'Neill smiles. “We filmed [that visualizer] in a strip club. Men come into the club and they so obviously don’t love their wife. I thought it was a kind of in-your-face thing.” 

“I Can’t Be Your Guy” is dirty, yet reclamatory. Reminiscent of club music, the mix is dark, gritty, shaken not stirred. It’s stumbling, bleeding down the runway with a stone-cold confidence that says, “I will not be fucked with.” maehem99 has a finger on the pulse of electronic sound, such that they can rip their own guts out for sonic display, only to patch themself back up with a quiet benevolence. 

And just like that, the finale comes like daybreak. “Like a Dove” is a saunter, a digital anthem for understanding that sometimes the best person to care for us is ourselves. “It was kind of meant to describe the feeling of when you are feeling really hopeless in a really, really big city, scared of all of these things you’re seeing that might feel adult or out of your depth,” O'Neill explains. 

As they sing “Trying to be restful / Like a dove,” an electronic rattle reminiscent of a bird coo calls behind them. Thoughtfully placed, each piece of production paints a world, and each track, a scene within.

Sexual Commerce begins losing a wish in the gutter, but ends with self preservation as salvation. Amalgamous of queer experience – and as many queer folks must – O'Neill has found a way back to themself amid the mess of modern life. That mayhem can be rebranded, fitting to something fresh and unique. maehem99 has carved their own path with a bold determination and a delicate mix of sounds that may offer a similar source of inspiration for others. The night has ended, the sun is out, and it’s time to face the city with all its living chaos.