There's a fabled chain of country stores situated along the highways below the Mason-Dixon line renowned for its people-watching and restrooms clean enough to dine in. Here, you can buy a grill, build a wardrobe, and binge on beef jerky or "beaver nuggets" aka corn clusters coated in a viscous brown sugar caramel. This, I'm told, is Buc-ee's. I've never actually seen it for myself but Ciara Mary-Alice Thompson, aka CMAT, was there just there and paints me a vivid portrait. "It's basically a cross between a gas station and an amusement park," the Dunboyne-bred singer-songwriter describes, showing off a row of teeth gems from canine to incisor. "And Buc-ee? He's a beaver." I'm grateful for the clarification. With Thompson's Irish lilt, Buc-ee sounded more like what an American would call a guy who fills his pockets facilitating bets on football games. We're chatting backstage at the Bowery Ballroom, the last stop on her first American tour which began on March 24 in Boise, Idaho. For three weeks, Thompson and her band drove from the Pacific Northwest through the Heartland until finally, they arrived here—a necessary venue on any indie artist's ascent. It was their bus driver who introduced them to the red-capped, semiaquatic rodent along the way. Later, when she takes the stage, she proudly dons a rhinestoned Buc-ee's t-shirt. It's unclear whether it's official merch or she made it herself. So far, 2024 has been as thrilling to Thompson as, well, being inside of a Buc-ee's. Her second album, Crazymad, For Me, drew critical acclaim with NME dubbing her "Dublin's answer to Dolly Parton. She's also sold out a number of venues on this tour, is booked solid on the European festival circuit this summer, and made headlines after getting a bit cheeky at the Brit Awards. Her kind of country—an amalgam of melancholy pop, put-on twang, and poignant lyrics—is resonating. On the bridge of her breakout single, "I Want To Be A Cowboy, Baby" she belts about wanting to go to her first rodeo. "What's that cracked up to be" she wonders. Then, "I wanna stop relying on men who are bigger than me." Like another redhead with a certain flair for theatrics on the rise, CMAT is good for a lyrical gut-punch you can still groove to. It's a two-step to be sure, just with tears. For some reason, CMAT is pleased to be here in America. Almost immediately, she says she's found this country culturally, socially, and politically fascinating since she was a child. View this post on Instagram A post shared by cmat (@cmatbaby) Growing up in a small village outside of Dublin, Thompson recalls how it seemed as if everyone had pledged their allegiance to the states—especially, its country musicians. "A tradition specifically in old Dublin households is that you'll have a framed picture of the Pope or a framed picture of John F. Kennedy. And then there's also a subsection of people who have a framed photo of Tina Turner or Dolly Parton." "Bitches in Ireland love Tina Turner," she says before specifying: "Tina O' Turner." As a child, Thompson spent so much time engrossed with all things stars, stripes, and Trisha Yearwood that she remembers speaking in an American accent before the one I'm hearing now. Her family, she tells me, eventually had to "get it out of her." I don't ask what that entailed. "I think the appeal of country music, for me, was that I just seemed to take to it very well," Thompson says. "Like, I was able to sing it, and play it, and write it, very well.…
