In conversation with Cardinals as they release new album 'Masquerade'.

By Hard of Hearing on February 24, 2026

Euan Manning lifts the mask on 'Masquerade' ahead of the band's upcoming tour, talking Insecurities, inspiration and a lost video.

Photo: Steve Gullick | Words: Isabel Kilevold

'It got lost in the post, and we still don't know where it is. Hopefully it turns up', Cardinals' lead singer Euan Manning says, a half-smile tugging at his lips, underlining the uncertainty. The missing video feels almost like a symbol for the album itself — a small mishap, maybe — yet it somehow captures the essence of the Cork band: raw, honest, and unafraid of being a little exposed.

Cardinals strip themselves bare on their debut album, 'Masquerade', released February 13th via So Young Records. The frontman exudes a quiet calm. Sitting down with us, he has shed his signature coat with the fur ruff. Contrasting his visceral stage energy, the introspective vocalist speaks softly, carefully. Despite the record's darker themes, the Friday the 13^th release date was apparently unplanned. 'I think [our manager] wanted it to be Friday the 13^th, but he didn't tell anyone, so we just agreed, because it's just a random day, you know, if it's not a Friday', he says with a soft laugh.

Their debut album is a sonic masquerade—a delicate balance between vulnerability and restraint, where every note feels like a wound half-healed, and every lyric reads like a confession. 'Most of the songs start as I just sit down and write with my acoustic guitar in my room. When I bring it into the [rehearsal] room, the band will have their own interpretation of what emotions lie within, personally for them or what they thought I was getting at, and they can bring their own thing', Manning explains. Driving drums and distorted guitars surge forward, carrying the vocals on a raw, urgent ascent. The band's signature accordion cuts through the noise—not as a softening presence, but as another layer, sharpening the edges of the melody. "Particularly, the accordion is quite emotive. I think it communicates the different emotions, whether it is anger, fear, romance, or whatever. Everybody sort of touches it in a different way, and then it becomes its own emotional arc', he reflects.

On 'As I Breathe', his confessional vocals float above the instrumentation, while his brother Finn's soft, intimate accordion weaves through the melody, evoking the sensation of eavesdropping on a private conversation. Manning notes that much of the writing process was about giving space for the accordion to breathe. 'When writing the arrangement on 'As I Breathe', it was essentially kind of knowing when to hold back and leave space for that structure and texture that the accordion adds to the track', he shares.

Cardinals are made up of Manning (vocals and guitar), his brother Finn (accordion), their cousin Darragh (drums), and school friends Aaron Hurley (bass) and Oskar Dudinovic (guitar), all hailing from Kinsale. That closeness — familial and longstanding — seeps into the music. Perhaps it is this deep, unspoken trust that allows them to be ruthless with the songs. Reflecting on their process, he says: 'It can take a lot of going back and forth and tearing the song apart and being very honest with each other, like "I know you've written that part, but it just doesn't fit here", you know'.

Working as a quintet, it is hard to trace the sparks of inspiration or to pinpoint exactly when a song emerges. 'You don't have the luxury to sort of be like, "This is the next song I want to write". Yet every step of their process is deliberate. Every note lands with purpose, each phrase shaped with careful melodic control, letting the imagery surface without forcing it. 'Inspiration comes in a spontaneous way, but then what you do with it when it does come is quite a different matter,' he explains. 'We are quite insecure in that way; we all struggle a bit trying to make things very perfect, which doesn't really work, you know, but we try our best'.

Photo: Ariane Quignon

On 'I Like You', the lyrics capture the paradox of intimacy mixed with emotional withdrawal, carrying the quiet ache of proximity without permission. The confessional storytelling that has become Cardinals' signature lyrical style draws on both personal experiences and external influences. 'There are definitely things that happened in my life that influence the tracks, even if they are not solely from my perspective', Manning says. Songs like 'Anhedonia' incorporate elements of violence he has witnessed firsthand, while also drawing inspiration from the media he consumes. 'I would like to think most songs have a bit of both, because I don't like the idea that any of it is like a diary entry or anything like that, you know, I just don't like that', he admits. He leans forward slightly, dark brows furrowed in thought. Though the band wrestles with insecurities about perfection, Manning exudes a quiet confidence in the direction of their music.

Visual storytelling has become essential to Cardinals' creative process. A significant inspiration for 'Masquerade' was the film 'Naked', directed by Mike Leigh, about a night walk through London. 'It's quite philosophical and a bit hopeless, and the characters aren't necessarily likeable, but visually and narratively, it's been a big influence on this record', he shares. Reflecting on their own visuals, Manning notes that music videos are more a form of creative expression than a tool for public exposure: 'If you can pair a song with a video and they go well together, that's a beautiful thing to have'.

When I ask about the substance behind rumours of a lost music video, Manning laughs, 'Who do you know?'. The band had hired an actor and spent all day shooting in Dublin, starting at 7 a.m. 'It was so cold, and anyway, [the film] got lost in the post, and we still don't know where it is. It's a shame, because it would have been a really cool video as well. Hopefully it turns up, maybe'.

The cover for the record is a painting titled 'The Tempter' by Norwegian artist Oda Sønderland. Manning describes the gut feeling you get when you listen to a great record or watch a compelling film – the kind that washes over you. That strong, embodied feeling hit the band when Darragh first showed them the artwork. 'It doesn't happen to me very often with physical art, but we all really fell in love with it before we even finished writing the record', Manning says. The painting depicts a blue, snowy forest, contrasting with a red scene of two people intimately biting into the same apple. Looking at the finished record, the artwork mirrors the themes of intimacy and isolation, warmth and coolness, darkness and desire that run throughout the album—but the connection was largely subconscious. The painting became a reference point for envisioning the album long before Sønderland even knew about it. 'It was nerve-racking when it came to the point to actually contact her; we were waiting with bated breath, but we were really glad that she said yes', Manning shares.

'The Tempter' by Oda Sønderland

Having spent so long writing, recording, producing, and promoting the EP, Manning shrugs at the question of which of his own songs he would rather be stranded on a desert island with. 'You're asking me at a bad time, because the record has been all over me, so I just… I'm fairly done with them for now', he pauses, eyes drifting into some distant, unknowable space. Then, with a faint smile, he adds, "Yesterday I said 'She Makes Me Real' was my favourite on the record, so we'll go with that one. I think it's a strong intro." Distorted guitar lines cut through the air with visceral grit, contrasting the softness of the accordion-driven melody, while the drums pulse like a heartbeat. There is an urgent, almost restless energy in the way the opening track unfolds.

Ahead of their UK and European tour, Cardinals are itching to hit the road again. There is something electric about meeting people who have already heard the record – seeing how the songs land, what they stir, how listeners interpret them. Manning emphasises that each track truly comes alive only through that shared experience. On stage, the songs gain a visceral weight that the recording can only hint at. "Barbed Wire' has that sort of loudness and kick where it feels like a different song on stage', he says, a trace of excitement in his voice, hinting at the thrill of bringing the record on tour.

That connection with fans has become an inherent motivation behind the care and intention they pour into their craft. Recently, the band received a message from a father explaining that his son – who had tickets to see them in Newcastle – had fallen seriously ill and was in hospital, unable to attend the show. 'The dad asked us to send him a message and tell him that we're thinking of him. It felt like a lot, obviously, dealing with the shock and tragedy, somebody believes that a message from this group of lads would make him feel better. It's pretty wild to think that would have an effect on someone. It felt like a nice result of the work and the music that it meant that much to somebody', Manning reflects. For a band that wrestles with perfection and intention, moments like this cut through the noise. The songs, once written in bedrooms and rehearsal rooms, take on a life far beyond them, becoming something steady and comforting in someone else's darkest hour.

Pulsing with the skin-close tension of desire and distance, the debut from the Cork five-piece carries a crushing honesty. It resists letting affection tip too easily into sentimentality, instead exposing raw flashes of memory shaped by the city they now call home. 'Cork is one of those cities that… I was going to say claws into you, but that makes it sound like it's in a nasty way. It sticks and imposes its character upon you and changes your mindset about things and has you enamoured'. There's a push and pull in the way Manning describes it—the hesitation, the correction—mirroring the record itself. Cork lingers in their sound the way it lingers in him: not always gentle, but impossible to shake.

With the record finally out in the world, Manning offers a characteristically unassuming closing declaration — no rehearsed pitch, just a gentle assuredness that lets the music speak for itself: 'The album is out. Just listen to it if you can. Then we're going on tour, and if you like the album, you should come see us on tour, I guess'.