Mull It Over 056: Dove Ellis - Blizzard

The album everyone is talking about. The enigmatic debut from Galway-born Dove Ellis arrives fully formed. Here are my thoughts for Blowtorch Records, on a special bonus newsletter to see out the year

Dec 21, 2025

Originally published via Blowtorch Records

Dove Ellis’ debut album Blizzard is a curious release in the death throes of 2025. Arriving fully formed with Guardian and Pitchfork reviews set up right out of the gate; Ellis himself presenting as a mysterious Irish-born poet figure with next to no information about him available online, it has all the hallmarks of what the cynic is us might call an ‘industry plant’. Something dreamed up by men in suits in small rooms in London or Dublin. Or is that particular commentary only reserved for female success stories, à la Wet Leg?

Regardless of the context through which Blizzard has come to be, the overriding sentiment for anyone who has soundtracked their December by it is simply appreciation that it is. Much of the reviews for this ambitious debut have rightly, albeit lazily rehashed comparisons to Thom Yorke, Van Morrison and in some instances the late Elliott Smith. Not that I can argue – texting the friend who put me on to Ellis that it sounded like ‘folk-Radiohead’. No bad thing.

The Morrison comparisons certainly highlight the pastoral beauty of Blizzard. Though hard to pin down to any one genre, the folk foundation that seems to set here provides rich soil for Ellis’ impressive and cheeky vocal stylings. A man clearly very comfortable with his instrument and how to use it to best effect. That he cut his teeth in the cauldron of South London’s Windmill both attests to this but also raises an eyebrow as to how these songs would have sat alongside nights of riotous post-punk anarchy in a Brixton pub. Though, loosely, you could say the same about Elliott Smith running alongside the American alternative scene of the mid-1990s.

Ellis is the latest in a swathe of talent originating from the West coast of Ireland in recent years. Artists like Olan Monk, Shampain and Maria Somerville have seen incredible critical and commercial successes; subsequently pushed Ireland to the forefront of an exceedingly experimental and exciting new wave of sounds. That Dove Ellis arrives with such an eclectic and ambitious debut, hued by the Galway-by-London landscapes he inhabits is merely a natural progression of a roaring scene. Like George Houston on the North end of the island, there is a cult-of-personality type of figure that seems to be pushing through in Irish music. Just as Fontaines D.C. make the leap to stadium and festival headliners next Summer, it seems the ground is already fertile for a post Fontaines world.

The songs on Blizzard are considered and frothing with intrigue and warmth. Like how the old Irish jig ‘The South West Wind’ conjures in a fleeting couple of minutes in its ode to the Irish Atlantic weather pattern, Dove Ellis presents to the listener in just over 34 minutes songs of incredible physical heft and awe. But they are warm, mild and inviting.

It is not a perfect album, but it is very close to it.