TED Talks Daily - What music is for | Wallis Bird

Episode Date: July 28, 2026

Irish musician and songwriter Wallis Bird received her first guitar at six months old and has been chasing music ever since. After her TED2026 performance of three genre-bending original songs, Wallis sat down with TED music curator Anna Bulbrook – a musician herself – to talk about the cosmic energy she taps into on stage, and what drives her songwriting. Their conversation explores her lifelong pull toward music, the stories hidden inside her songs, and how creativity can heal. It's woven through Wallis's electrifying, deeply moving performance, as she sings about joy, grief, social struggle, and what it takes to use music to bring people together, even when the world gives you every reason to look away.To learn more about Wallis and her music, visit www.wallisbird.com. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

You're listening to TED Talks Daily, where we bring you new ideas to spark your curiosity every day. I'm your host, Elise Hume. Wallace Bird was handed her first guitar when she was six months old. She's been playing music ever since. And if you've ever seen her on stage, you know she plays with a kind of energy that seems almost too big for one body to hold. Where does it come from? I just realized that it's something that was handed to me from elsewhere, something very cosmic. I feel it very strongly.

Wallace, an Irish musician and songwriter took to the TED stage to perform three original songs, and afterwards she sat down with Ted's music curator, Anna Bullbrook, for a special Beyond the Talk conversation to explore her work and the stories behind the songs she performed. For Wallace, songwriting isn't really about invention. It's about listening, to the world, to the cosmos, and to the songs themselves, which she treats less like things she makes

than company she keeps. I consider my songs, my friends, so I have a listen to what they're telling me and I'm constantly checking in. I always try and give it a lot of respect and a lot of time. What follows is a conversation with Wallace's performance woven throughout about joy, grief, activism, and what it takes to keep making things that bring people together, even when the world gives you every reason to look away. I'd like to die on stage and people to feel like I try. try to be warm and inviting and hoping for a nicer future.

That's coming up right after a short break. And now our TED Conversation of the Day. Okay. We're going to start with an easy one. Okay. Tell us who you are and what you do. Oh, my God. That's not easy. My name is Wallace Bird. That's my real name.

I was born in Ireland. And I was given my first guitar at six months old. And I have been chasing music. ever since. I love anything to do with music. I love people that are involved in it and I'm, I think, about the rhythm of the planet and my part in it. The first song that I performed at TED was To My Bones. It's quite an old song. Should I talk about it? Yeah. Okay. It's about 15 years old and I feel like it's my flagship song. It's the one that I wrote that makes me happiest where it's brought me and what it's given me. It's about joy and a perfect.

moment out with friends and the way people have connected with it and the amount of joy that it's brought me and other people, especially kids, is really, really special to me. So, yeah, that's what that song's about. You want to grab your guitar? Cool. Maybe we can talk about how you receive transmissions or maybe something you want to elucid about a songwriting moment with one of these songs. Is there like a lick that stands out to you as like a inside incident for one of these songs. A lick or a rhythm or a bit. Yeah.

Yeah. Something that unlocked something? Yeah. Okay, cool. I'm a big fan of repetition. Oh, yes. Oh, life I love it to my bones. Oh, life I love you to my bones.

Oh, life I love you to my bones. And then I lose my mind at the end of that. It's just a mantra. It's just this. keep going and keep going and go further and further and further. And I think that's just my calling. Keep going and go further. I'm not saying I'm excellent or anything, but I definitely love doing that.

That was a really good closing line. Where did the lyric, Oh Life, I love you to my bones come from? It was just a feeling. It was a feeling of ecstasy. There was this moment where we were all in a pub and it was a disco pub. And we started doing the same dance choreography at the same time. I don't know how that happened. And we were doing limbo.

Like it's about this moment in a bar with strangers where the moment just felt too good to be true. And I remember just that line kept coming to me. Oh, life, I love you to my bones. As if you can't handle how good the moment is. So it just came out, actually. Hiya. So my name is Ted.

you're all very welcome to my world and I'm going to sing ye three songs the first one is for joy and the second one is for humanity and the last one is for the heart so they're real depressing

you're welcome see you okay all right it's called to my bones we're kissing the lips of strangers we're hugging whoever next Meets, oh life, I love you to my bones When everything should were listless Take them home and cook them dinners and sing

Oh life, I love you to my bones Domino's medicine, it's who you are and who you win Take a seat and let it grow, the world will love you You elephants of memory and alphabet of chemistry All of these things have I've made me Roscoe and be me laughter and no TV I've got punch lights and fisticuffs and tons and tons of luck I've got firesides and Dutch goals there's no such thing as you old and my fortune is my home my home and all I know yeah because because oh life I love you to my bones oh life I love you to my bones oh life I love you to my bones oh life I love you to my bones oh life

this is a perfect segue into talking about your energy to my bones oh life this is a perfect segue into talking about your You're known as a performer with infinite energy. Where does it come from? Actually, Anna, I do and I don't know. Like where I say it comes from is it's an outer body thing. No matter what I, if I'm dying of the flu in the bed, I manage to somehow get up on stage. It's grand. I've never been so sick that I've had to not be able to get the energy to play.

And sometimes when I'm lost in the moment of it, I just realized that it's something that was handed to me from elsewhere, something very cosmic. I feel it very strongly. And the older I get, the closer I get to understanding. I used to be a bit shy about admitting that it feels cosmic because it just felt a bit trite or something. But I think we might all die,

so I like being romantic about it, you know. You have this, you know, one million watt bulb energy on stage, but whose wall is off stage? I think the very same, I just really enjoy people. And when I'm up on stage, it's just a moment to, I get a real kick out of guiding a room, like a DJ or something like that. And it's really interesting for me to create something that at least everybody in the room. Like I tend to pinpoint people who are just stood there like this, I'm not into this or I was dragged here. And I go straight to that person and try and find something that makes their eyes light up or something.

And so that was always my drive is to kind of connect a room. And maybe that's just me wanting everybody to love me and it's some lame trauma from my childhood or something. But I love people and I'm not that much different offstage, to be honest with you. Have you ever had a room so challenging you, didn't crack the code? Oh, yeah. Rare, though. Rare.

There's always something. And I'm a bit persistent as well. But there has been one or two concerts in my life where I was like, whoa, that was just impenetrable. And it's almost surprising that you have to laugh at it. But it's not to do with me, I'll tell you. Sometimes it's just a tough room. Yeah, yeah.

I mean, I've been in rooms where I was asked, like I was in a room where there was a very intense national security scare. Oh. Yeah, and I was asked to be mindful of that. And so these kind of, I see it as an opportunity to take, to take something in and take something from it. So nothing's ever lost in the doing of something, you know. Yeah.

Okay, you mentioned that you started playing guitar when you were six months old? Well, yeah, it was given to me. Yeah. I was like, explain this way. It was like a teddy, I suppose, and I guess my parents didn't really consider that I would be holding on to one for the rest of my life. But as soon as I could have it in my hands, seemingly it was there.

And I treated it as my teddy. And yeah, instruments, it's funny because we're not from an instrument family, but my parents were always very, they were like, I see that they have rhythm in them, so they gave us instruments to play. But they never forced us to do anything either. And then when I was like 18 months old, I fell under a lawnmower and I lost all my fingers. And I do remember very early two things about being in the hospital, which I think is just shock related. And the other thing was being. and annoyed that I couldn't play because my hand was sore. And so they're my earliest memories, which is like music and something to do with pain and music and yearning for music. So it's kind of never left me, just this yearn to need music around me and in me and what have you. How is that kind of foundational experience shaped your drive to play now? It's changed over the years. I have to say like in the last two. years I have an unbelievable new love for music. I wrote my last record about loss and grieving. And

when I felt like I couldn't actually face being creative, that's when it came to me. That's when it came to me as a necessity of healing. And that's when I regained my, oh my God, that's what music is for. Because I suppose for a long time, I had been just enjoying being a workhorse to the craft and like trying to get better all the time and stuff like that. And I was just on a train. But then in the last two years it was like it was re-gifted to me as a new person almost. So I'm back on this gorgeous new track with it now, yeah. Describe this gorgeous new track.

Is it like new space? Like what is the texture of this new track? It's people. It's other people. It's this idea of not being shy in a room to play music or taking my guitar with me to do somewhere to instigate something. I used to be afraid to instigate something because I was embarrassed. I didn't want to be singled out in a room.

And there's just this idea of like, well, an artist's duty is to create culture and to create moments worth living, I suppose. But a day is long and we can go a long time without feeling happy to be around each other or enjoying music. And music brings a lot of free and easy enjoyment. and like no pressure enjoyment. And I think I'm back on that track now, yeah. You said you don't want to instigate things, but you are also a bit of an activist. Yeah.

A little bit. I suppose I'm an activist in so much as that. I like to resolve conflict, I think. And I'm okay to be in there and taking shots for people in that way for activism. So queer activism is my thing. A refugee, migrants and anti-racism. activism. It's not even activism. It's just like, I don't know, trying to do the best I can, really.

There's one moment specifically in one of the songs it's called As the River Flows, where there's a sentence I just keep repeating and I keep singing louder and louder until I don't have any voice left. So it goes, overcoming mystery, overcoming mystery. Overcoming mystery. Overcoming mystery. Overcoming mystery. Over. And it keeps going up and up and up until I don't. And then I always push it even one more further every time because it's about refugees travelling crossing the Mediterranean

and gripping onto life. And losing their breath and trying to breathe. It's not the most pleasant. thing, but it's actually celebrating those who lived, you know. I think that kind of sums up my whole criteria as an artist, you know, just very critical of

the fact that geography is just literally where you happen to be born. And I just think that we should have equitable chance in this world. Humanitarian law is extremely important to me because I know that not everybody follows it. But there's part of me that kind of just wants to celebrate when it is kept in check.

And is this the song that you wanted to be this directly? That's a lovely question. Yeah, it's sideways political. A lot of my stuff is sideways political, just because I think existing on this planet is political. Everything we are as close to a blade of grass as we are to, you know, I mean, the future of AI or whatever. It's all related.

Yeah. Okay, this next song is brilliant. It's called As the River Flows. And it's in support of migrants and refugees and in defiance of racism. And as the river flows, well, you and I are made of water, surging into history,

universal mystery. All in all we cannot choose. The life that we were given So we move across the land to sky to sea Looking for more than we were offered Are we not allowed? Are you still with your mother pushed you out? I doubt that this is true

If you can move then I will too To To the land To the sea To safety to safety to safety To the land To the mouth of the sea To the land

To the sea To safety to safety to safety Overcoming mystery Overcoming mystery Are you scared of friendship brave enough to pave the basic decency for humankind. A baby lost its family. Lost its life orders are for jobs in civic order.

When I know you see it differently, you want your pallet white, you want it. Clean walk a mile, walk two thousand miles. Walk 3,000 miles to, to the land, to the sea. To safety, to safety, to safety, overcoming mystery. To safety, to safety, to safety, overcoming mystery. To say, to safety, to say, to safety, to safety. Your new album's been described as having encourage not to look away. So how do you stay looking at what's wrong or looking at what needs

fixing over time? That's a lovely question. I think with the last record it's about grieving and loss, death specifically. So singular person and then a vast amount of people dying at the same time, which is really, really hard to deal with mentally. So I kind of came at it from the position of looking at singular souls and the worth of humanity and how that looks in the social conscious at the moment in the modern times in our generation and the steps that took us to get to cruelties that we that we have and we bestow onto others unfortunately and I think just looking at grief and the absurdity and the weirdness and the kind of unanswerableness of it I started to turn to space and to ghosts and listening to...

Space like physical space or space like outer space? Outer space or the spiritual world, I suppose, the cosmos. And that really helps because then you begin to listen to the messages of the world. I began to listen to the messages of the world. And I mean, they might not be right, but I'm still figuring it out. But I found that once you open that gate to the other side, then there's a lot of answers to who I am and what I think about humanity. And I don't know, there's no answer to it.

I'm just trying the best that I can to be open and not be a bollocks. I think that's a noble, that's a noble pursuit. I feel like there's a link between receiving messages from the universe and songwriting, especially for you. So let's talk about that experience of songwriting. Can you talk a little bit about finding what the song wants? Oh, that's lovely way to put it. That's a lovely way because I consider my songs, my friends. So I have a listen to what they're telling me and I'm constantly checking in.

I always try and give it a lot of respect and a lot of time. So I spend a lot of time trying to engage and be open to allow whatever is to come to pass through me and then eventually just by way of craft, by writing multiple times or singing things repetitiously, like for a half an hour sing the same line and see how it fits or just paying attention to it. And then I imagine it as a person or as a feeling or as an emotion. I really visualize my lyrics as landscapes or spaces, reflective textiles. I really try and visualize a meaning of a song or... You said you envision your lyrics?

Yeah. Tell me more about that. Colors, feelings, smells, time, future past. I'd like to think that I can envisage new things, but I'm actually not very good at it. So I take what I know about, what I really enjoy about, like architecture or, you know, looking at this backdrop, the material is a beautiful paper.

So when I think of that, I imagine, does the brown colour affect the sound of the paper? What does it sound like? How could I describe what it sounds like? And that really helps me to describe the language of my emotion in visual and oral triggers, I suppose. Do you ever have to give in to what the song wants? And I'm saying this a little bit of a wink because you've mentioned resisting certain lyrics or certain callings from songs. So, you know, do you ever have to bend to the will of the song or resent the song for what it wants to me?

Yeah. Yeah. and I learned very quickly not to not to resent anything that I ever write because I remember I was two albums in, I was in my second album and I started to say over the microphone, I'm not really into this song. And it's almost like casting a curse on the song. So that's when I decided from then on I said,

I have to love what I'm doing because I'd probably be singing this for the rest of my life. And you also don't know who's listening. And I specifically write four kids in mind. I want them to feel like they can understand it. And I also think kids are like the greatest critique of your music. If they get it, then you're okay. But I don't say no too much ideas. True story.

True story. You have to do what the song wants. And then you better love it. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. I mean, there's a lot of crafting goes in and you have to because there's stuff. I'm constantly thinking about the future.

And I really want to think in a solutionist way. I want to think that there's beauty in this world. I'm very aware of the pessimism and the bad things in this world. And so I'm choosing my lot, which is to be kind of, I'd like to die on stage and people to feel like I try to be warm and inviting and never damning anything and hoping for a nicer future or something like that. I feel like there's a moral quandary in songwriting. Yeah. Using real experiences to turn into songs that become pieces of art that go out in the world, but also if it's really about a person or, you know.

How about you? Did you write about people or experiences or? Well. In my experience, there's always a kernel of truth or a few kernels of truth and some real experiences in mind. And then when you're crafting something, to me, that's where almost like the objectivity takes over. Like the objectivity of I'm making a song and the song wants this and it's not. specifically about any of these particular things, but they're all feeding into this cohesive piece of creativity.

It could be fictional or only partly fictional. Okay. But the thing that it becomes becomes real, and that's a real feeling and a real transmission. But it doesn't mean that because I wrote a song about Wallace and how we had a chat, that then this song equals Wallace, you know, right, or this equals the content of our experiences, people together or something like that. So, so. like real but transitionary or something.

Yeah, it's like, I mean, it's fiction. Ultimately, it's a construction. Right. You know, it's a story based on a story that you told yourself about something that happened. Yeah, yeah. What do you think about that sentence, words are spells? I believe it. Yeah.

In a way. Yeah. But maybe I would say words are stories. Words are stories, yeah. Because I don't think, I think they have some influence, but I don't think that they have power necessarily. Mm-hmm. Okay. This is a lovely interview, by the way.

I would like to invite my lovely partner on stage for this. Tracy Kay, please. Come on stage. This one is for your heart. Well, I'll tell you the truth, as I only do, my friend. I'll be living my youth, as I live till my end,

my friend. I've been battered and bruised, but it's only a few that have stayed or... And that's nothing a hammer, a nail or my mind couldn't cure. But I've left people hang on a stick or a word if their grip grew tight. Oh, the bottles. the battles, the best that I've shared are all my... On to me. Yes you can.

The more you hold on to me. I'll have me yours too. Yeah, the more... To me. To leave. Peace on earth. Thank you so much. So that last song that I just played is called Indictum.

And it's also a ballad that I wrote from when I was 30 years old. before I turned 30 had quite the ego and I was like No way brilliant yeah yeah and it

was that sarcasm I can't tell I left it open yeah so I just turned 30 and I'm 43 now so it's been really interesting

revisiting this song and looking over it it's about self-protection and somebody offering you something that you don't want and it could be the make or break

of your relationship because I really loved this person and I didn't want them to go anywhere but I needed their love to change. And so that was a very big learning curve for me and it's always interesting to sing about it because you have to distance yourself from those lyrics

but you also have to give them a good duty to serve them correctly and stuff. But actually now the way I feel the song is based on the emotion and the curvature of how it was written. So it's kind of one of of those ballads that also stood with me and stood the test of time and people asked me to sing that. And I just love when people sing along with that song because community and gathering people

to sing, that's my bag really. Yeah. You say you have to distance yourself from the lyrics. Is it sort of like applying a layer of objectivity to this really subjective experience that you're turning into a song or that's becoming a song or is it, what's that distancing? Or is it just like you're not in that emotional moment in the same way. Yeah, there's definitely that. You know, I don't feel that. But then sometimes when you're singing it, you get the exact feeling.

It's like you get a smell and then you're brought right back in time. And it's gut wrenching. So there's those things like the protection of how do you continue on. And so you just allow the emotion to happen and then go through it. But the distancing, I think,

is to embody what the song means to me and do it correctly. But also not because, it is a bit of an awkward song, I don't want the person to feel slammed across the side of the head every time they hear me sing it. I want to ask a little bit of a more abstract question. How do you listen to music? Ah, with great gusto. I love music. Do you know what I love about listening to music is sometimes I absolutely don't understand it whatsoever? And then I'm like, is this an age thing? Is this a geographical thing? But

No, do you know when people say I listen to anything? I literally listen to anything. But how do I listen to it? Just, I suppose I'm all ears. I'm all ears and I don't like to look at it critically. I like to understand where things come from or the workings of it. I prefer to celebrate listening rather than being like, why do they, you know, what's the story? I don't like to be critical.

I like to be encouragingly listen to music. Yeah. How do you listen to the world? I won't lie, I do a lot of scrolling. I do a lot of scrolling. I listen to a lot of movies. I have them on headphones when I take walks because I like listening to how movies are made just by sound. I like to take a couple of senses out of things because it's a multifaceted art or whatever. So how do I listen to the world? I don't know what I'm listening for, but I'm definitely listening. I'm trying to pay attention. Yeah.

How do you carve out space to create? Do you carve out space? Yeah, and it, I do, yeah, and it'll happen to me in the most random places, like I'll be standing, queuing at the counter in a shop, and then the most symphonic, beautiful idea might come along, and then you're like, okay, just trying to have a conversation with somebody

and listen to this song going on in your head, you know. When I was a kid, I grew up with seven kids. I was number six of seven, and funnily, the only place, that I could get a moment's piece and make music and sing and play the guitar was alone in the toilet. So I don't know, there's something about small spaces. I love small spaces and going into places with zero light and being a little worm, I guess. But generally, I have music going on all the time because my lifestyle is so movement all the time. So I just am kind of a receptor.

If you're okay with it, can we do a couple of lightning questions? Yeah. Wallace. Morning person or night owl? And why? I used to be a night owl morning person now. Probably because I don't drink anymore. What's a hill you would die on?

I will fight people if they're not nice to people. Like encouragement. I love encouragement. I think encouragement makes people go really far and kind of subduing people. does not or being the boss of people. Yeah. What's the last time you laughed so hard you cried? Well, oh my God.

Oh, I'm often doing this actually. Oh my God, do I need a specific time? I'm always laughing until I'm crying. I'm always very close to tears, actually. Oh, yeah, me too. Yeah. It's good, isn't it? Yeah, yeah, yeah.

If you had a superpower, what would it be? Flying, why not? I'm a bird. It'd be amazing. What's your current theme song? Oh, dig it do do, do dick it do do dig it. Did a little, got the best of my love. I swear to God, every morning for the last year, nearly every morning, I'm like, put it straight on.

I don't know, yeah. What's the best advice you've ever ignored? When I started off in the industry, I took the advice of others that wanted to dress and clothed me and then I did it and I looked like somebody and felt like somebody completely different so I ignored people telling me to be something different. Yeah. What's one small gratitude that you have in your life right now? Well being here it's no small gratitude. Everything's actually quite large gratitude. I have a beautiful meal in my belly. I'm meeting incredible people and I'm here at the far side of the Northern Hemisphere doing something which I've followed for most of my adult life.

I kissed a red carpet yesterday. Yeah. Was it a circle? Yeah. It's just a random red carpet on. Just going around kissing random red. Yeah. If you find a red circle, just kiss it.

That's advice from Wallace Bird. Thank you so much for sitting down with us, Wallace. It's been a pleasure. Sharing your bright million-watt light bulb with us. Oh, my God. What a pleasure. Thanks very much for having. Now we can make all the noise.

Yeah. To my bones. Oh, life, I love you to my bones. Oh, life, I love you to my bones. Oh, life I love to my bones. Oh, life I love you to my bones. Oh, life I love you to my bones. Oh, life I love you to my bones.

Oh, life I love you. to my phone. That was Wallace Bird at TED 2026 and in conversation with Anna Bullbrook. This interview was recorded in April of 2006. If you're curious about Ted's

Curation Guidelines, visit TED.com slash curation guidelines. And that's it for today. Ted Talks Daily is a podcast from TED. This episode was produced by Lucy Little and edited by Alejandra Salazar. Additional support from Maggie Bishop. This episode was mixed

by Lucy Little, and the interview was recorded in Vancouver by Dave Pullmer and Rich Amos of Field Trip. The TED Talks Daily team includes Martha Estefanos, Oliver Friedman, Lucy Little, Emma Tobner, and Tonzica, Sungmarnyvon. Additional support from Daniela Ballerazo, Valentina Bohanini, Banbanchang, Brian Green, and Lainey Lot. Learn more at podcasts.tad.com. I am Elise Hugh. I will be back tomorrow with a fresh idea for your feed. Thanks for listening. Thank you.