QUIET AS A MOUSE | INTERVIEW + TRACK REVIEW
- Jun 15
- 6 min read
Some artists write songs about places. Alex Moran writes songs that seem to carry places inside them.
As Quiet as a Mouse, Moran has spent years moving between countries, cities and identities, from London to Leamington Spa, Edinburgh to Brisbane. That journey has left its fingerprints all over his music. His songs are filled with memories, near-misses, old relationships, fleeting moments and the strange emotional pull of places that continue to feel like home long after you’ve left them behind.
His latest album, Nostalgia is fine…but…, wrestles with a feeling most of us know well. The temptation to look backwards. But rather than simply romanticising the past, Moran challenges it. The record asks whether nostalgia is something to be cherished or something to eventually move beyond. It’s an album full of reflection, but never one content to stay still.
Across a career that has seen him share stages with Palma Violets, Hinds, The Big Moon and The Orielles, and work alongside producers connected to artists like Frightened Rabbit, Snow Patrol and The White Stripes, Moran has remained committed to following his own instincts. The result is a catalogue that feels deeply personal yet universally relatable, balancing Britpop swagger, indie-rock grit and heartfelt storytelling with the confidence of a songwriter who knows exactly who he is.
We caught up with Alex to discuss memory, identity, growing older, finding home in unexpected places, and why sometimes the most interesting stories begin after the main event is over.
TRACK REVIEW - Peter Pan
Peter Pan opens with a sombre guitar line that immediately pulls you into its world. Having the music video alongside the track only adds to the experience, giving the song a cinematic quality from the very first moments. Then the full band arrives, and everything expands. It’s easy to imagine this one landing perfectly at a festival as the sun begins to set, with the bass rumbling through the subs, the drums echoing across a large stage and the crowd completely immersed in the moment.
What stands out most is the band’s understanding of dynamics. Quiet as a Mouse allows the song to breathe, pulling things back during the verses before opening up into larger, more impactful choruses. Those ebbs and flows give Peter Pan its emotional weight, creating a sense of movement that keeps the listener engaged from start to finish. It’s a track that balances atmosphere and melody beautifully, proving that sometimes the most powerful moments come from knowing exactly when to hold back and when to let everything soar.
You’ve lived in London, Edinburgh, Hobart, Adelaide and Brisbane, and your songs often feel obsessed with place, memory and belonging. Do you think you’ve spent your life looking for home, or collecting different versions of it?
I think perhaps a bit of both.
With moving so much, I don’t have that set home base that many people grow up with as kids and teenagers. At times it was difficult, but I do appreciate what it gave me: two nationalities (British and Australian), along with resilience, independence and flexibility.
There are a handful of places that still feel like home and carry a strong emotional pull whenever I return, especially London, Leamington Spa, Edinburgh and Brisbane. As an adult, life has been a little more settled, spending long periods living in Edinburgh and Brisbane.
The album title Nostalgia is fine…but… feels like there’s an unfinished sentence hanging in the air. What comes after the “but”?
It’s actually taken from the new album track 1999 and its chorus line: “Nostalgia is fine… but do you really wanna be looking back all the time?”
What I’m really saying is that looking back is fine. We all do it. But don’t live there for too long. Let’s keep moving forward rather than getting stuck in the past.
Your music carries a strange tension between romanticising the past and questioning it. Has nostalgia been more of a comfort or a trap for you creatively?
I think it’s been both.
It’s comforting because it can be lovely, romantic, sad and wonderful revisiting old memories. But it can also be something to push against creatively.
Like I mentioned before, I always want to improve, move forward, be myself and hopefully create something original. So nostalgia can be both a comfort and an inspiration.
You’ve supported bands ranging from Palma Violets and Hinds to The Big Moon and The Orielles. Looking back, was there a particular show where you realised Quiet as a Mouse had become something bigger than a bedroom project?
The Palma Violets show at Electric Circus in Edinburgh was a huge moment.
It happened the same week they were on the cover of NME with Best of Friends, and it was one of the very first Quiet as a Mouse shows. It was exciting, chaotic and a fantastic introduction to playing bigger live shows.
Another standout was almost selling out our first London headline show at the legendary Bull & Gate. That was a big moment for me and remains one of the best shows QAAM has ever played.
A lot of songwriters write about heartbreak. Your songs often feel more interested in the aftermath, the memories, regrets and strange details left behind. Why are the emotional leftovers more interesting to you than the explosion itself?
There’s a lyric in White Picket Fence, the closing track on the new album, that says:
“I see the beauty in the detail.”
I’ve always been drawn to songs that sit slightly off-centre, songs that are interesting, make you think, or make you feel something. Hopefully those are qualities people find in my music too.
The name Quiet as a Mouse almost feels misleading when some of your songs carry the swagger of Britpop, the weight of grunge and the confidence of classic indie rock. Has there always been a tension between vulnerability and bravado in your songwriting?
Absolutely.
The name was always intended to be both accurate and misleading at the same time. Some songs are quiet, intimate and gentle, while others are loud and energetic, much like a mouse can be both silent and surprisingly noisy.
I’ve always had multiple sides to my songwriting, and I enjoy that tension and diversity.
Peter Pan is such a loaded cultural symbol. Do you think growing older has made you more afraid of losing parts of yourself, or more comfortable letting them go?
Probably a bit of both. Of course there are moments when I wish I was 21 again, but I’m also comfortable getting older. One of the great things about ageing is that you get to know yourself much better, and there’s a real confidence that comes with that.
You’ve worked with producers connected to artists like Frightened Rabbit, Snow Patrol and The White Stripes, yet your music never feels like it’s chasing trends. Has staying true to your own instincts ever felt like the harder path?
I have influences everywhere, not just from music but from all kinds of places, and I actively try to find things that inspire me.
That said, the way I’ve approached songwriting is really the only way I could have done it. My way. Of course, there have been great collaborators involved along the way, but I’ve always wanted the songs to be a reflection of my personality and experiences.
Even if that means operating on a smaller scale, I’m completely comfortable with that.
Your catalogue often feels like a conversation between the UK and Australia. Do you think your music would sound fundamentally different if you’d never left Scotland?
I think it would be similar, but definitely different.
I don’t think I would have written the songs on Passport, and this new album would likely sound and feel different too.
Since returning to Australia, I think some of the music has become slightly slower at times, perhaps a little more relaxed and laid-back. Maybe that’s the Australian influence creeping in.
If someone listens to Nostalgia is fine…but… twenty years from now, what do you hope they discover about the version of Alex Moran who made it, beyond the songs themselves?
Hopefully they hear a songwriter who is continuing to develop, mature and grow.
Someone who is still being honest and raw, but who also understands that the story isn’t finished yet.
I hope they hear somebody who is still learning, still evolving and still searching for new things to say.
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