MELTX Is Building a World — Not 'Just' a DJ Career
- 3 days ago
- 8 min read
Irish DJ, producer, filmmaker, vocalist and self-described “hyperfeminine hardcore” architect Melanie O'Donnell doesn’t really separate sound from cinema. Or rave culture from emotional release. Or performance from identity. Under the name MELTX, she’s turning hard techno into something bigger: part Y2K fever dream, part emotional purge, part underground fashion fantasy dipped in pink gloss and distortion.
The Limerick-born artist first built her name through filmmaking before tearing through Ireland’s techno circuit with explosive sets, emotionally-loaded productions and a visual identity that feels more cult movie than club promo. Since then, she’s played institutions like The Warehouse Project and O2 Academy Brixton, dropped her debut album CANDYCORE, and carved out a lane that feels entirely her own: cinematic, vulnerable, chaotic and weirdly wholesome at the same time.
In this conversation with Playful Magazine, MELTX talks about rave culture as therapy, building worlds instead of tracks, why pink matters, and how techno became the language that finally made everything click.
Playful Magazine x MELTX
You come from an award-winning film background with a strong visual identity. How does your experience as a filmmaker shape the way you produce music and build the MELTX aesthetic?
Coming from a filmmaking background has had a huge influence on how I approach both music and the overall MELTX aesthetic. I’m very visually driven, so imagery isn’t something separate from my sound — it’s always been part of the same language for me. I’ve never really experienced music and visuals as two different worlds. They’re both equally important to how I express myself, and I don’t feel fully like “me” without both of them working together. That combination of sound and image feels like my identity.
In terms of production, I naturally think in a more cinematic way. Even when I’m building a track or a DJ set, I’m always thinking about structure like a story: an introduction, a rising middle, and denouement… Like a film, it needs pacing, tension, and release. I want my sets to feel like they take people somewhere emotionally, not just musically.
Music, for me, has always been a form of therapy
Ultimately, I’m telling stories through sound instead of dialogue. And long-term, my goal is to expand that even further into full visual worlds — especially music videos for my tracks because that’s where everything really comes together for me.
You’ve described your project as built on emotion, performance and a powerful aesthetic identity. Where do those elements meet when you're creating a track or preparing a set?
For me, emotion, performance, and aesthetic identity are never separate — they’re completely intertwined. Without all three, I don’t really feel like I’m fully expressing who I am.
I’ve always seen myself not just as a DJ, but as a performer and an artist at my core. With my background in musical theatre and filmmaking, I’ve naturally come to approach music as something cinematic and character-driven. It doesn’t feel like I “became” a DJ in a traditional sense — it feels more like I found a path that lets me build a complete artistic world and identity.
I’m building worlds and create emotional spaces where people can feel something, connect, and experience a sense of catharsis
When I’m creating a track or preparing a set, I’m always thinking visually. I’m imagining what the moment would look like on screen, what kind of world it exists in, and even what I would be wearing within it. Right now, I’m really drawn to pink as an aesthetic — it represents self-love, softness, and strength for me, and it’s become part of the visual language I’m exploring.
Emotion is at the centre of everything I make. Every track comes from a real feeling or experience I’ve been going through at the time. Music, for me, is a form of therapy — it’s a way of processing and releasing what I’m carrying internally.
Ultimately, I don’t see myself as just making songs. I’m building worlds and creating emotional spaces where people can feel something, connect, and experience a sense of catharsis. That shared feeling is the most important part of it for me.
You taught yourself how to produce before you ever stepped behind the decks. How did that foundation transform your relationship with techno once you started DJing?
Learning production before I ever stepped behind the decks completely shaped how I approach DJing. I already understood music from a producer’s perspective, so when I started DJing, I wasn’t just thinking about individual tracks — I was thinking about how they interact, evolve, and build something larger together.
I want my sets to feel like they take people somewhere emotionally, not just musically
That foundation made me very intentional about flow. I naturally want my sets to feel cohesive, almost like one continuous piece of music where different tracks merge into each other rather than just being placed side by side. It became less about “playing songs” and more about constructing a narrative in real time.
I often compare it to a classical composition, like Tchaikovsky’s Romeo and Juliet Overture — a long-form piece that moves through distinct emotional phases while still feeling unified. That’s the kind of structure I aim for in my mixes: a clear intro, a developing exposition, and a satisfying finale.
Ultimately, I try to treat every set like a story that the audience can step into and experience from start to finish, rather than a collection of separate moments.
You often refer to Paris as a key moment in shaping your artistic direction. What did that year give you creatively that you couldn’t have found anywhere else?
Paris was a really defining moment for me creatively. There’s something about the city that feels completely timeless — the fashion, the architecture, the music, even the way people carry themselves. Everything feels classic and considered, and that had a big impact on how I think about my own artistic direction.
It made me realise how important it is for me to create music that feels enduring rather than trend-led. My sound is always evolving, but I try to keep a sense of timelessness running through it. That’s why I’m drawn to elements from early rave culture, like acid and jungle influences — sounds that carry history and remind me where dance music comes from. I never want to lose that connection to the roots.
In a way, Paris reinforced the idea of simplicity and elegance in its own form. Similar to the iconic Parisian style — effortless but intentional — I want my music to feel stripped back in the right way, but still rich with identity and detail. Not overcomplicated, just honest and grounded in something real.
More than anything, the city influenced my approach to authenticity. It taught me the value of staying connected to where things come from, not getting too caught up in trends, and focusing on building something that feels true to me rather than momentary.
Your films Catharsis and Silent both explored emotional depth and mental health, reaching huge audiences. Do those themes still influence how you approach music today?
For me, music is about creating an experience where the listener can find their own sense of release or catharsis — similar to what I was always drawn to in film. I want people to feel seen in some way, or at least to feel like their emotions are being acknowledged and understood through sound. That’s also why vocals are such an essential part of my work. I’m always drawn to them, and I can’t imagine ever not using them — they feel like a direct emotional bridge between me and the audience.
At some point, I’d love to make that emotional intention even more explicit in my music, perhaps by exploring themes around mental health more directly. But even now, that emotional core is always there. Music, for me, has always been a form of therapy. Whatever I’m going through at a given time inevitably finds its way into the tracks I create.
For example, the tracks I made for my EP with Hekate Records on Sara Landry’s label came from a very deep and personal place. They were born out of a real catharsis for me, and in many ways, they helped me process and release things I was holding onto. That experience reinforced just how powerful music can be as a form of healing.
Every track I release carries some kind of emotional weight — whether it comes from anger, joy, melancholy, or euphoria. That honesty is what makes creating music meaningful for me. Without that personal connection and sense of purpose, I don’t think I would enjoy it in the same way.
I could step out of whatever I was carrying mentally and just exist in another world where everything felt okay
Your journey into techno started at your first rave during university. What was it about that environment that shifted everything for you?
For me, it all really shifted at my first rave during university at Trinity Ball.
I had been to EDM shows before — like seeing Martin Garrix when I was 16 at Belsonic — but stepping into a techno dance tent felt completely different. I remember actually being about to leave, and then deciding to stay a little longer, and that moment ended up changing everything for me.
Without that personal connection and sense of purpose, I don’t think I would enjoy it in the same way
There was something about the repetitive, hypnotic nature of techno and those hard kicks that immediately put me into a kind of trance. It felt like an escape in the healthiest way possible — like I could step out of whatever I was carrying mentally and just exist in another world where everything felt okay.
It wasn’t just excitement, it felt almost spiritual. Like I was fully immersed in something that quieted my mind and gave me relief from everything going on internally. I ended up staying the whole night, and I’ve been completely drawn to the genre ever since. A few months later I started producing techno, but in reality it felt like I had already fallen in love with it from that first experience.
I never wanted to rely on anyone else to define me or validate what I was doing
You began networking and organising your own shows early on, supporting massive names in Ireland. How important was self-starting to your growth as an artist?
Self-starting was probably the most important part of my growth as an artist, because I never wanted to rely on anyone else to define me or validate what I was doing. Everything came from my own decision to step into it.
At the beginning, I was very much building everything myself. I came from a pretty established background as a young filmmaker, so shifting into music felt almost like creating a new identity — but in a way that was exciting rather than restrictive. It felt like I was choosing a new direction on my own terms.
I just trusted the process and stayed consistent with who I was becoming
I was very intentional about having full control over every part of the project — from the music itself to how I presented myself visually. I wanted to create my own footprint in the hard techno scene in Ireland and figure it out independently, without waiting for permission or opportunity.
A lot of it was about embodying the project fully. I didn’t really chase bookings or force anything. I focused on making the music, connecting with people, doing shoots, and presenting MELTX as a complete vision. And over time, it naturally started to attract the right people and opportunities.
In a way, I just trusted the process and stayed consistent with who I was becoming.
