Q&A: Miki Berenyi Talks Music Evolution, Unapologetic Authenticity and Her ’90s Roots
IN THE DAYS OF BRITPOP GRUNGE — when bands like Blur and Nirvana were dominating the airwaves, Miki Berenyi brought her ethereal voice and magnetic presence to Lush, a band that helped define the sound of the ’90s alternative scene. Known for her striking red hair and captivating melodies, Berenyi’s influence was undeniable, and her music resonated with a generation grappling with the complexities of youth, identity, and rebellion.
Fast forward two decades, and Breneyi is carving out a new chapter in her artistic journey, this time on her own terms and with a fresh perspective. After years of stepping back from the limelight, she's returned, not only with new music as part of the Miki Berenyi Trio but also with a candid and compelling memoir, Fingers Crossed. In a music industry that often prioritizes image over substance, Breneyi’s focus is clear: she’s committed to being unapologetically authentic and finding joy in music.
Luna sat down with Breneyi to dive into the stories behind her memoir, and to explore how her approach to touring, songwriting, and life as an artist has evolved over the years. In this conversation, Breneyi reflects on her past, her present, and what she's learned along the way. Read the interview below.
LUNA: You’ve been touring this summer. When you look back on touring with Lush to Piroshka and now to MB3, how has your experience of touring changed?
BERENYI: Mainly, there’s no money. It was a bit scary putting this tour together. I only realized once I'd agreed to a certain number of key things that I would have to fund it myself. That period was a bit sleepless, but it was brilliant once we got there. It's a convoluted system for someone from outside America to come and tour. It's very expensive and there's a lot of red tape. All that used to be done by a record company, when record companies had money — which they don't anymore, or not for most people. So that was a bit of a shock and made me appreciate how much risk labels used to have to invest in bands who would be sent off on tour, then sit there and drink everything in sight, do drugs, and not take it seriously.
There was pressure in the beginning. Everyone's always telling you, if you play in America, this will happen and that will happen. You're running around trying to please people, yet also somehow trying to enjoy yourself. With Piroshka, it was very difficult to tour because we didn't make enough money for a five-piece band with all that equipment. Logistically, it was very difficult, which is part of why MB3 formed the way it did. A lot of it was quite accidental, but the fact that there's just three of us and can be very nimble was part of the thinking. I was sick of not being able to play because the set up was too unwieldy.With this band, we can literally jump in a car and play when we want to. It's very easy to organize gigs. I suppose the weird thing now is to be doing it purely because you fancy doing it. Because, there's no way that this is building up through some master plan to some eventual global domination, this is it.
LUNA: Did touring become more fulfilling and fun as your career matured?
BERENYI: There's less pressure because the tour isn't resting on an expectation of it having to succeed at this level or where it's going to lead. The record companies want you to do well, and of course you want to do well, but that often comes at the cost of a lot of other things. A lot of it is just throwing shit at the wall and seeing if it works. If you go out on a tour where it's really not working, it becomes quite a grind. But all experiences are different. It's great to do it when you're young. It's a lot less exhausting, that's for sure. But there's something about being not quite so hormonal that makes it a bit easier now. Plus, the temptations of excess don't work as much. It's easier at this age to go, “You know what? I'm just going to go to bed.”
LUNA: What was the catalyst in deciding to write the memoir now?
BERENYI: I was approached to write it. It’s occurred to me that I'm not very good at starting things on my own. I always think, “Obviously I'm not gonna do that. That's ridiculous.” It's not until someone comes along and facilitates the idea that I jump on board. I did that with Lush, too. Emma was the real driver behind it. Piroshka was Justin's idea. MB3 was because of the book and we were doing gigs. It was Ollie and Moose saying, “I think we could keep going with this.” I'm not the person who starts. So it was the same with the book.
When Peter Selby of Nine Eight Books approached me, my reaction was, “Fucking hell. That sounds like a nightmare.” Then the job I was working at the magazine folded and COVID came along, so I just thought, “Oh… Maybe I should at least have a crack at this.” I didn't know the first thing about writing a book. It was interesting. I got really into it. It's difficult because you're talking about other people and their involvement in things and I have a certain blunt way of speaking. That’s one thing when you're chatting to someone, but if you're going to concretize it in print, it can be tricky. I didn't want to write a book that's just really nice. Not because I don't want to be nice, but I don't want to write some book that's just bollocks, you know? One that was me saying, “Oh, that was lovely. And this was lovely. This was great…” when it wasn't. This is your one shot to write down what you actually feel happened.
I needed quite a lot of support. Peter was great. I'd send pages and just think, “I don't know, is this too much? Have I lost my mind even communicating half of this?” But, if you don't say it, how much are you going to regret it? This is your chance to share your experience. A memory from an earlier situation with Lush came back to me when I was writing and reminded me that I don't have to tiptoe around everybody else's version of Lush or what they expect Miki from Lush to be.This is my space to talk about it all how I would talk about it with people who know me well. Even without all the band stuff or other people involved, there's an element of revealing things, whether it's about family history or abuse… these dark subjects… where a sudden responsibility washes over you. Because, the minute you let that shit out, who knows who will use it in whatever way. I'm so used to being attacked in the press. In the ’90s, you couldn't say anything without having the piss ripped out of you. It can be a difficult fear to get past, if you think you're constantly being criticized, but there comes a point where you have to go — just say it. It was good therapy.
LUNA: In the book, you say you fell into music and that it served as a lifeline to survive the chaos of your family and childhood. When you look at your relationship with music nowadays, does it still play the same role?
BERENYI: I think it does, yes. If I think about it, it was always about community. There’s something quite lovely about going to see a band. I've known bands who I think are absolute wankers — but I feel their music is great. Equally, I've met people who I think are really lovely, but I'm not really into what they do musically. But I'm always quite happy to go along, watch them and get the best out of what they do. There's a drive, when you’re a part of a community, that you make those efforts and it's really exciting to play a gig and to have other people there. It becomes a sort of shared world. You don't even have to be a musician. It's a great thing to be able to contribute, even if you're not playing. It's such a brilliant thing to be able to give to something by just being there and not just being a dot in a stadium. When we did the American tour with Budgie and Lol Tolhurst, I would wake up on this tour bus and Budgie is on the bunk opposite me and I'm thinking, “What the actual fuck?” We're sitting up, Ollie, Budgie and me, until 3 a.m. talking about who knows what… drum machines and tv programs from the ’70s. Every now and again, I have to pinch myself. Moments like that make everything really enjoyable.
LUNA: In the book, you say, “Reckless behavior provides excellent material for a colorful story.” How do you think that concept shaped your perspective of what it means to be an artist?
BERENYI: I mean, it's quite difficult, isn't it? Art and creativity is an acceptable way to get some of those things that you wrestle with out there. There are people who can agree with you without having to reveal their own shit. It's like a sort of secret language where you can relate to people and say some of the unsayable stuff.Of course, it's always coupled with stupid needs, like being liked, wanting to be famous, to have money, attention. La la la. All of those things can be true as well. But I don't really think that people do things for only those reasons, because in reality, creativity is really hard. It's really time consuming. I would say to anybody who goes into any of those creative things looking just to make money, there's got to be an easier way to make money.
I think a lot of people use art as a form of communication. So they can tell someone these things beyond their therapist. There's a feeling of “I can't be the only person who thinks this way. I can't be the only person who feels this way.” And I think that level of acceptance can be really helpful. As an artist, you're always misinterpreted. When it came to the book, it was a similar experience. For those I mentioned in it, some of them are perfectly happy with what I wrote, some of them aren't. A lot of that is their own egos coming into play where I'm like, that’s okay, this is just my version. If you don't like it, write your own.
LUNA: Who is your most unexpected musical influence?
BERENYI: Funnily enough, I had a conversation about this a month ago, and it dawned on me that one of the biggest influences was the musical Oliver! But, you know that scene in particular where it's like, who will buy my sweet red roses? Then all these harmonies come in. I remember being absolutely blown away by that. I was probably, what, seven years old or something? While I loved “Consider Yourself” and all of those other songs in the musical, the way all of those harmonies merged in that one part… I realized I do think a bit that same way. When I'm doing harmonies or lyrics and guitar parts, I don’t want them to do the same thing. They need to kind of weave together. As you piece elements together, you see, oh, that bit fits with that part. Brilliant, you know?
LUNA: Can you take us inside the songwriting process of your newest single, “Vertigo”?
BERENYI: The ironic thing with this band is that it's the most collaborative band I've ever been in. Even more so than Piroshka in that everyone is writing songs — Ollie writes songs, Moose writes songs, I write songs. We all pile in and write our bits. Lush was really separate. In Lush it was “This is my song, this is Emma's song.” If they crossed over, it was my lyrics, Emma's music. There was little collaboration beyond that. It's immensely satisfying writing songs like this. I wish I'd have done it more in the past, but Lush was its own thing. I'm happy that I had that experience as well, but this is really good fun.Vertigo was a bit of processing post menopausal anxiety attacks that you have lying awake at night thinking, “Just need to breathe, just breathe, calm down.”
LUNA: Where do you feel most at home in the world?
BERENYI: Right where I am in London. Ollie lives on the coast and Moose is always saying, “Do you want to leave London? It's lovely here by the sea.” And I'm like, no, never. I can't. I cannot leave. I live a lot of my life with distraction. That whole Vertigo kind of anxiety thing. I spend quite a lot of time mining where I feel comfortable or going into the discomfort zone and thinking, “Come on, we need to sort this out.” I talk about shit and wrestle with it, but I equally need a lot of distraction to help stop me from thinking about it. It’s interesting what kind of things make people feel better. I do get that happy music, happy films, and happy books are their own thing. But, to me, there's something about depressing books and things that makes me feel better in a weird way. I feel at home in them. They help me remember I'm not the only person who's had to struggle with all this crap.
LUNA: Beyond music, is there anything you’d like to accomplish one day?
BERENYI: Do you know what? Gardening. I would love to be really good at gardening because I can kill a plant just by looking at it. Cooking, I'm great. That's nailed. But gardening? I feel like that might serve me quite well when I'm an old lady one day. It seems to bring people a lot of pleasure. I think it appeals to me because it’s a practical thing. Music is quite a practical thing. Lots of musicians end up being gardeners and carpenters and once they give it up.
LUNA: What will this next chapter look like?
BERENYI: Well, we're going to do an album, so we're getting that finished. In the meantime, we're playing gigs whenever we want rather than waiting. I did that with bloody Piroshka. It was all very traditional. We would make an album, release a single. Released the album, then we’d tour. It's all over in, like, three weeks and then it's gone. I'm not doing that anymore. I'm just going to keep playing. I'm going to put out songs when I want to, and we're just going to see how that goes. It's a terrible marketing recipe for making any kind of impact, but it does mean that I'm quite busy and I'm actually enjoying it.
