With “On My Shoulder,” Mary Milton steps into a space where memory, grief, and music intertwine with striking intimacy. Shaped by a lifelong immersion in sound, from early classical training to formative collaborations, and deepened by personal loss, her work now leans fully into emotional truth. In this conversation, she reflects on the experiences that led to the song’s creation, from a father’s lasting voice note to the unexpected swell of orchestration, and how vulnerability, discipline, and lived experience continue to redefine her sense of purpose and connection through music.
When you listen back to “On My Shoulder,” what emotion hits you first?
The first emotion that comes to me is strength, followed by a deep sense of comfort.
How did your upbringing in Cannes and Évreux shape your artistic identity?
I was born in Évreux, then moved to the south of France at the age of 4 to be closer to my maternal grandparents. That period was one of the most defining in my life. I spent a lot of time with my grandfather, who is a saxophonist, and that’s probably where everything began. I started classical piano at 5 until I was 13, then transitioned into jazz. I had always been singing, but at 11, my middle school music teacher encouraged me to join the choir and take vocal lessons. At 13, I began classical singing with a Milanese opera singer for a year. After a very difficult personal period, I joined the Diamond School at 20, where I trained in singing, dancing, and acting.
Was there a specific memory of your father that anchored the writing of this song?
Yes. The last phone call I had with him, two weeks before he passed. I told him I would soon come down to the south, since I’ve been living in Paris for over three years… Unfortunately, I didn’t get the chance to say goodbye, and that was extremely difficult to go through.
How did your time on The Voice influence your confidence going into deeply personal songwriting?
The Voice was a real turning point, both professionally and personally. The connections I made there deeply encouraged me to tell my story, with a genuine desire to touch people and, perhaps, help them heal through my music.
You’ve collaborated with a wide range of artists—how did those experiences prepare you for this record?
I’ve been fortunate to work with established French artists who have been part of the music scene for many years. Their humility, discipline, and strong work ethic are incredibly inspiring. They’ve taught me that nothing comes without hard work, consistency, and dedication. Being surrounded by them is a constant life lesson.
What was the first sound or lyric that unlocked the emotional direction of the song?
It all started with a voice note from my father. I absolutely wanted to include his voice in the song—it’s one of the last things he left me. Then the acoustic guitar came very quickly in the studio. From the very first notes, we knew it was the right direction.
How did you know the arrangement needed orchestral scale rather than a stripped-back approach?
I had the chance to collaborate with Will Wells, who is an incredible musician, producer and songwriter especially when it comes to string arrangements. Initially, strings weren’t part of the plan. But one day, he sent me an arrangement… and I was deeply moved. As a huge admirer of his work, it immediately felt like the right artistic choice.
Were there moments during recording where you had to stop because it became too emotional?
Yes, several times. Recording this song was a real emotional challenge. Thankfully, I was very well supported and guided, which helped me go all the way with the performance.
How do you differentiate between writing for catharsis and writing for release?
Catharsis is about writing in the moment,raw and unfiltered. Release comes with distance. It’s when you transform that emotion into something more peaceful. My songs are often born from the first, but they find their true meaning in the second.
Do you think this song represents closure, continuation, or something in between?
I don’t see it as a conclusion, but rather as a moment of transition. Grief is a process, and it was important for me to express it through music.
How do you want people to feel in the quiet moments after the song ends?
I’d like them to feel something like an embrace. A warm, comforting presence. A sense of support, even in silence. And above all, to know that they are not alone.
What does “vulnerability” mean to you as an artist right now?
It means being fully aligned with my emotions and having the courage to express them honestly. Vulnerability becomes a strength when it creates a genuine connection.
Has your idea of success changed since releasing more personal material?
To me, success has always meant being able to move people. The more honest and personal my writing is, the more it resonates with others.
What artists or composers influenced the orchestral direction of this track?
For this song, I didn’t want to draw from any specific reference. My intention was to create something deeply personal and sincere. I knew that working with Will Wells would allow us to reach that level of emotional depth.
Looking ahead, do you feel this song opens a new sonic or emotional era for you?
Absolutely. This song marks a turning point, both sonically and emotionally. It taught me to fully embrace who I am, without holding back. Moving forward, my goal is to go even deeper into intimacy and artistic honesty.
