When we last saw Murray Matravers, he was on the cusp of dropping his second Number 2 album, giddy from a relaxed period of self-growth and creative exploration without pressure. He anticipated a big festival season and dreamed of writing a new album in his new favourite city, Tokyo.

Almost three years later, he’s spending those long stints in Japan, has a slick new record in the bag, and UK tour dates incoming. It sounds smooth enough, but if you’ve paid any attention to his band’s journey, you’ll know smooth was never the objective.

A six-year streak of unwavering momentum was finally forced to a halt when the group – formerly easy life, now rebranded as hard life – were hit with a lawsuit from easyGroup in 2023. Faced with the choice of caving to the demands of a multinational conglomerate or risking financial collapse and creative silence, they chose the former. Even with their willingness to comply, the legal proceedings would hang over them, their reputation, and their relationships in a big way. In hindsight, Murray sees that the pause was inevitable.

“Since we got signed in 2017, we’d been on tour or working the whole time. We were so lucky, we had momentum, and it was something we were all in together. It was a priority for all of us. We were in our early twenties and didn’t have much else going on in our lives, but there were a lot of us in the band who could have done with a break,” he admits. Fractures papered over for years finally had time and space to surface.

“If I was to pinpoint what was damaging us the most, it was the amount of touring we were doing. We were always away and always very busy. Being in an environment where you wake up in a new place every day and inevitably drink and party… after what, seven years? That’s a little bit exhausting. If I go for a massive night out now, I know about it. Whereas back then, I had to do that on repeat. That was kind of the job, you know?”

When the job gets stripped away, what identity – never mind source of income – do you have left? “We all had to find other things to fill our time with the same intensity we were used to. It’s a blessing and a curse that we’ve had this mental journey because all of a sudden, if you’re going to try and do something else with your time, it seems so fucking slow or so painless. Being in a band is incredibly intense and exciting constantly.”

Guitarist Lewis Berry went travelling in Australia for eight months. Drummer Oliver Cassidy and percussionist Jordan Birtles returned to the working grind. Sam Hewitt left the group. The hard life crew took on other work behind the scenes. Murray, still under contract with Island Records, had the freedom – and pressure – to keep writing. On paper, the lucky one. In reality? He crumbled.

“It’s trendy to trash your label, but they were good for me because I think they could see through what I was, where I was at,” he says. “I’d take music in, and it was finished. I made four albums before I actually made this one. I’d go in and try my best to tell them I liked it, but they weren’t convinced. I think it was quite obvious that I was desperate to just put something out because it had been such a turbulent, crazy time.”

When things kept getting crazier, and the music kept falling short of his own expectations, Murray quit and went to Japan. There, he connected with Japanese R&B artist and long-time pen pal SIRUP, and soon struck up a fluid collaboration with producer Taka Perry. After months of writing music only to watch it fall apart, he and Taka finally built something solid – in just three weeks.

“These songs would materialise – be written, recorded, and produced – in less than two hours,” Murray recalls. “We basically went to the studio and never left until I went back to England. It was incredibly collaborative. I think he has as much ownership of the record as I do, even if it’s my story this time.”

Back in the UK, the self-doubt crept in. “I was second-guessing. Are people going to fuck with this? All the music I’d been making felt a bit vanilla. Whereas I feel like this is something, at least. These songs are real. As an artist, that’s all you can really hope for.”

The album took its name from Taka’s studio. The rest, soon, will be history.

"'onion' has given me my confidence back. In this industry, that's a lot of capital"

Until now, much of this reinvention has been practically invisible to hard life’s fanbase, who got their first glimpse of the new era with June 2024’s comeback-meets-diss-track, ‘tears’. “I had to talk about the lawsuit; I had to,” Murray says. “At the same time, I addressed this idea of change – the idea that some of my friends from home barely recognised me anymore. That’s solidified by the fact that now I’m not the only person I know who’s ever been sued by an airline. My life’s getting further and further from how I imagined it would go. ‘tears’ is an ode to a lot of friendships that were important to me during that time. I was leaning on them a lot.”

“I’ve seen artists come and go; I’ve got survivor’s guilt,” he raps. It’s a sharp observation from a band that came close to the edge.

“It’s easier to work on the next thing when you’ve got people asking for you to come back, but some artists won’t ever get that. I do feel guilty about it all the time and wonder, why did I get to do this for a living, and everyone else – who are often better than me – aren’t able to? I just use that to motivate me to try to do my best with what I’ve got.”

‘onion’ truly is Murray at his best. The tracklist unspools into a flurry of moments that quietly demand attention. ‘othello’ kicked off the album campaign properly – a glitchy alt-pop-rap hybrid that refuses to be pinned down.

“It’s about the romantic breakup I was going through,” he shares. “It’s intense. You talk to someone a lot – all the time, really – and then suddenly, you never, ever talk again. Like, the fuck? That’s insane. ‘othello’ is about that - people vanishing. It’s a sad song but a fun song, too.”

‘y3llow bike’ and ‘P1L0T’ showcase the immaculate production brought in by Taka’s background soundscaping, while cuts like ‘proximityeffect’ dive deep into the heartbreak of watching a childhood friend and former bandmate walk away. “Being so exposed in the lyrics is terrifying,” Murray says. “It’s my job to write songs, but it’s not my place to put people’s stories out there. But they’re my stories as well, and that’s why I feel OK with doing it. Sometimes I have to.”

The 14-track album closes with ‘end credits.’, a track that finds hard life embracing despair with surprising grace. “I’d gone through this whole freak-out, and this song is all the stages of grief that got me towards acceptance. If this is my end credits, I think it’s alright. It’s a little reminder for everyone that things can end at any point. Shit ends, so enjoy it. Enjoy people – people disappear, people end their lives, people do crazy shit – so enjoy people and make the most of it while you have them.”

Through all the chaos, hard life have emerged with a strange, clear-eyed optimism and a creative rebirth that feels genuinely earned. “I’m still lonely and lost in the world,” Murray admits. “Of course I am; I think we all are. But I feel a positivity right now that I haven’t known for many years. What ‘onion’ did for me is the best thing it could have – it reinvigorated me. I want to make music and think I can make good music again. That in itself is a huge gift. Because without the drive to do it, it never happens. ‘onion’ has given me my confidence back. In this industry, that’s a lot of capital.” ■

Taken from the August 2025 issue of Dork. hard life’s album ‘onion’ is out now.