The harshness of holding back: Pem on creating art through chronic illness
“I’ve not long had surgery, so I’m taking things slowly,” Pem tells me as we commence our second conversation of the year. Considering where we left things off in January, with the hope and optimism of a promising year ahead, this isn’t exactly where I’d imagined things would start when reconvening.
Selected as one of five artists for Far Out‘s ‘Class of 2026’, hot off the back of releasing her latest EP, Other Ways of Landing, and preparing for her first-ever UK headline tour, 2026 was set to be an extraordinary year for Pem. However, the possibility of having to take time off to recover from a surgical procedure had always been looming in the background, threatening to hinder the early signs of growth.
Pem has been vocal on social media about her experience with endometriosis, a condition where tissue similar to that which lines the womb grows in other external areas, and has expressed how living with it can be debilitating and obstructive in different areas of her life. “It’s something that I have struggled with for a decade that’s impacted me in every area of my life,” she explains, before adding that the lack of understanding that is demonstrated for a condition that affects one in ten women is what has prompted her to raise greater awareness.
“The more it’s happening, the more impassioned I feel about it,” she protests, “I feel really galvanised by the fact that women are not taught from a young age how our cycles and our bodies work, and this condition is becoming worse and more common as a result. It’s a systemic problem; it’s not normal to have endometriosis. It’s something in our environment, in what we’re consuming, and it’s affecting women more and more all the time.”
At the moment, keyhole surgery to remove the tissue is the only method used by healthcare professionals to combat endometriosis, and even then, it isn’t a complete fix, given that the tissue can easily regrow over time.
“That surgery is not easy,” she explains. “It’s made out to be this very easy thing, but it’s not; it’s horrific. The pain afterwards is awful. It’s a really stressful, traumatic thing for the body to go through, and this is just what’s dished out. It’s not a long-term solution. It just stops the pain for a bit before another surgery has to happen, and people get put on a waiting list for so long.”
Pem is, of course, grateful for the fact that she has been able to receive treatment, but it comes at a cost for her as a self-employed independent artist. “For me, it’s completely debilitating,” she notes, “I can’t work or perform when it’s happening, but it’s not classed as an actual disability, so I can’t get disability benefits. That’s only thinking about the main symptom of pain, that’s not including the mental fatigue that comes with it, or all of the traumatic situations that a lot of us have been in, to do with that.”
Fortunately, while the timing of her operation came as something of a surprise at the start of May, it didn’t prohibit her from embarking on her first run of four headline shows across the UK, which, at the time of our last conversation, was one of the main things Pem had to look forward to in her calendar. “We really enjoyed it, met some lovely people, and the shows did well, so overall, we’re pretty pleased,” she beams, although the tour in and of itself wasn’t without issues of its own.
“Doing a tour is sometimes quite hard to fund,” she says, before entering a lengthy list of obstacles that she, much like other artists of her stature, has to unfairly prepare themselves for. “My car was broken at the time, so we actually did a lot of it on the train, which was a challenge,” she adds, also noting how her health flare-ups were another factor that had to be taken into consideration.
“At the moment, we prepare ourselves as if something big is going to go wrong. We’re always primed for chaos, but I’ll tend to avoid doing too much on the day,” she says, attempting to explain that it’s virtually impossible to follow any strict set of preparatory rules or rituals.
She adds, “I don’t really have a specific routine for how the day goes, I just try and avoid any extra stress, and then before I go on, I like to have a minimum half an hour to warm up and do a whole shaking, breathing and vocal warm up.”
As gruelling as touring can be, there were undoubtedly many positives that Pem could take away from her debut headline tour, with sold-out shows in front of audiences in London, Bristol, Leeds and Manchester, and plenty of new experiences that she will cherish as her career continues to blossom.
“You have to love what you do. I’m glad I’m doing it, but touring is tough.”
Pem
“What I really liked was at the Leeds show,” she says, reflecting on some of her favourite moments, “This lady came up to me at the merch stand and recommended a book for me to read. I went and read the book, and loved it. That was a really nice sense of closeness with someone who was watching and resonating with something.”
The widespread appeal of her shows also came as something of a pleasant surprise, although she maintains a remarkable sense of humility when talking about the far-flung locations her fans appeared to be travelling from.
“These two people had flown from Berlin to come to a show,” she adds, staggered by their commitment, “They’d never been to the UK before, and they just came over, and we had such a nice chat afterwards and ended up in the same pub.”
The compliments appear to be coming thick and fast for Pem, but once again, she takes everything in her stride. “I find it really touching when other people have an emotional response to a song, and they let me know, but it’s never in an invasive way. I received a message the other day from someone saying that my song had helped them cope with an abusive relationship, and I thought that’s all I could ever really hope for with my music.”
The tour may have been a struggle, and this isn’t lost on Pem as she reflects further on how interactions like this are what keep her motivated to continue pursuing her art. “When people approach me afterwards or send a message about something that’s touched them, I see that it’s worth it,” she muses. “You have to love what you do. I’m glad I’m doing it, but touring is tough.”
The next big event for Pem following the March tour was initially going to be a support slot for Black Box Recorder at the London Palladium, but her unexpected surgery booking very nearly put paid to plans. “That was eight days after my surgery,” she laughs, “The surgeon said no heavy lifting for six weeks, which is a long time, and I told him, ‘I’ve got a gig at the Palladium next weekend’. He told me, ‘It’s not a definite no, see if you can sing, and if you can, you can do it sat down’.”
“It was only half an hour, and it was quite nice just being sat down. I felt a bit uncomfortable because I’m not used to it, but I’m glad I did it. I just knew that if I was able to, then I would. I think I’m a little bit of a masochist, so I definitely could be taking things a lot easier with this condition across the board, but I do always try to push myself, which is not the best thing,” she noted.
As someone constantly eager to keep up her momentum and growth as an artist, not always knowing when to put herself first has been one of the biggest challenges when it comes to managing her health in tandem with her pursuits. “It’s hard to know at what point you’re pushing yourself too hard and at what point you’re just trying to make it through the best way you can and still hold you back, which I guess is what I try and encourage,” she argues, “It’s been a real challenge this year, having to restrain myself, step back and say no. It’s not really in my nature.”
Knowing that she isn’t alone in her struggles, with plenty of other musicians suffering from the same experiences as her, Pem is keen to act as a mouthpiece for spreading further awareness of endometriosis. She notes how the Bafta-winning short film, This Is Endometriosis, has shed more light on how the condition affects a large percentage of the population, but that more can definitely be done.
“That was a big step,” she says, before countering this with her concerns and how she hopes to change things, “I think it gets reserved for partners and family to talk about, because it’s not seen as a normal thing to talk about having surgery to have stuff scraped out of their womb and pelvis. I’d like to try and see with music and the small platform that I have if I can create a space where other people can talk to me about that.”
Her own experiences may not exactly be leading to a radical activist awakening within her artistry, but she tells me that the material she’s working on has definitely been informed by them. “I feel like what I’m working on currently is maybe slightly more political, although never that explicit, because I don’t even think I’m capable of singing politically in an explicit way,” she states.
Noting how common the systemic abuse of power is becoming, as evidenced by rolling news on the conflict in Western Asia, the Epstein Files and the continued ostracisation of transgender people, Pem says that she’s also beginning to zoom in on these topics in a more subtle fashion. “It’s more implicit, and it feels more about the state of the world,” she notes, “Lots of political things have come up this year to do with marginalised voices that are being pushed down and stifled, so that feels important to talk about.”
As hard as it is to find a way to discuss these matters, she notes how seeing things through her own personal lens is perhaps more informative to her still, and given how much has happened to her in recent times, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that she’s willing to explore these significant life events in her work moving forward.
“I’m still kind of navigating what having chronic pain means to me as a thing, but it’s filtering into the music quite a lot,” she concludes, apprehensive but curious as to what the future holds for her, adding, “I do write from a place of experience, so having all of these things happen to me does inform what I can create. In some ways, I’m kind of grateful, because otherwise what the fuck would I write about?”
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