Mabel Is Good With Being Mabel, and It Shows


Mabel recently played a gig in Paris that she describes as a “hot mess”. Just a day earlier, the 28-year-old R&B and pop singer-songwriter decided she wanted to accompany herself on piano. “It’s the first time I’m ever doing this,” she’d told fans at the intimate soirée. “But I’m really glad that you’re here.” Today, as we chat in the sun-drenched kitchen of her stylish London home—all extravagant skylights and monochrome tiling—she laughs wryly. “Turns out you definitely need to practice to do that!”

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(Image credit: Jeff Hahn Styling: Corset, J Phoenix; Trousers, Ottolinger; Earrings, Vrai; Bracelets, Mabel’s Own)

Relaxed, chatty and informal—she answered the door barefoot and immediately offered me a Diet Coke —Mabel is more comfortable with herself than she’s felt in a long time, that much is clear. What’s harder to work out is the journey she’s taken to get there. In 2017, the Swedish-English musician made a splash with her debut single “Finders Keepers”, a seductive afro-bashment banger that delivered her first UK Singles Chart Top Ten ranking. Then came the certified platinum debut album High Expectations, featuring the world-conquering earworm “Don’t Call Me Up”. A year later, she won Best Female Artist at the prestigious BRIT Awards. Her second record, 2022’s clubland-inspired About Last Night…, was her highest-charting album yet. In the music video for its lead single, “Let Them Know”, Mabel appears every inch the bona fide pop star, strutting around in a Big Bird yellow fur coat and outrageous heels.

The reality behind the scenes of the video was quite different. “I hadn’t told anyone that I was really struggling still,” Mabel recalls, her naturally chirpy voice slowing during our chat. “It was my first time post a really heavy depression being back on set.” She slipped up repeatedly during a choreographed dance routine and something snapped. “I grabbed my water bottle and threw it and it smashed into a thousand pieces.” She takes a deep breath. “It was a really painful moment.”

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(Image credit: Jeff Hahn Styling: Co-Ord, Chet Lo; Shoes, Terry de Havilland; Hat, Emma Brewin; Ring, Vrai; Bracelets, Mabel’s Own)

In many ways, Mabel was quite literally born to be a pop star. She’s the daughter of Neneh Cherry, the trailblazing Swedish rapper and singer behind the ‘80s kiss-off anthem “Buffalo Stance”, and producer Cameron McVey, who worked with legendary British acts Massive Attack and Portishead. Mabel’s earliest material was created by “me and my brother”—(the songwriter slash producer Marlon Roudette, with whom she co-wrote “Finders Keepers”). “People are like, ‘Oh, nepo baby warning!’” Mabel tells me. “If my parents were doctors and I decided I was going to be a surgeon, nobody would really bat an eyelid.” She grew up surrounded by music; her first steps as a toddler took place on a tour bus.

Cherry and McVey, however, were not thrilled when Mabel landed her first record deal at the age of 19. “My parents were like, ‘Whoa, just wait a minute. Let’s help you really figure out who you are and what you want to do…’ I was like, ‘I don’t want to work shitty jobs, I want to live off my music… Fuck you!” she laughs ruefully. “You could never tell me when I was little, ‘Don’t touch the fire!’ I had to touch the candle and get burnt.” She gets their caution now, she says. “As a parent, all you want to do is protect your kid, right?”

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(Image credit: Jeff Hahn Styling: Coat, Ganni; Shoes, Paris Texas; Jewellery, Vrai)

Life accelerated to an almost unbearable speed. At her first BRITs performance, Mabel found herself performing alongside dozens of dancers for the first time—one of many deep ends she was hurled into as a young artist. She embarked on a whirlwind tour across the UK, Europe and North America, dealing with the white-hot glare of public scrutiny whilst trying to knock out new music at a workaholic pace. “I hardly saw my family,” she recalls. “It was quite lonely.” Her inner people-pleasing perfectionist kicked in even as she grew increasingly depressed. “You get in this mindset of: ‘I have to deliver something in the next 12 weeks,” she sighs. “I just don’t know where the pressure cooker came from.” The industry, she explains, teaches musicians that they’re only good if they rack up the views or win awards, “but I’ve had those things and I don’t think I was particularly happy,” she tells me.

Lockdown, in some ways, provided a perfect emergency exit. Mabel moved back in with her parents and tried to cultivate a life outside of music “that just means that I’m not the job, I’m not the character,” she says. She got pets—her two Italian greyhounds, Imani and Tahini, are currently padding around us in the kitchen—and started riding horses. Monetising her love of music was partly what got her into this mess, she explains. “When your hobby becomes your job, you need more hobbies, because it just changes the relationship to your creativity. I stopped playing and writing [music] just for fun.”