Dear friends, community, and believers in music,

My name is Ayden Graham. I’m a singer-songwriter, violinist, guitarist, and teacher. Originally from Canada, I grew up in the San Francisco Bay Area. Three years ago, I took the biggest leap of my life: I moved to Ireland to pursue a Master’s in Songwriting at the Irish World Academy. It was a dream I’d carried since I was sixteen.

Ireland is the first place I ever felt at home. I came here as a teenager, fell in love with the culture and the music, and knew I had to come back. After years of saving, working, and studying, I finally returned. Since then I’ve been performing in Limerick, teaching, working with other songwriters, and building a life here. I want nothing more than to contribute to this community and make a living through music.

But right now, I am at a breaking point.

I had been steadily chipping away at my undergraduate loans for years, and during COVID I continued teaching online to keep things afloat. But once I faced the costs of rent and relocating, I had no choice but to take on additional student loans for my Master’s degree to make the leap to Ireland. Since then, I’ve been in pure survival mode, often barely able to afford food.

I’ve taken every job I could, doing my best to find work in my field. Last year I took what I thought was a dream job working as a full-time violinist at Bunratty Castle Medieval Banquets. However, even at 40 hours a week the salary equated to just €17/hour, so I could only cover rent and food. When I raised my employment permit visa requirement to the HR department, the management took a very unethical blaming approach and abruptly terminated my contract. Since then, I’ve been patching together income through bar shifts, gigs, and teaching. Most months, I’ve survived by putting groceries and bills on my credit card. That card is now maxed out.

At the same time, my mother was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s earlier this year. We'd known something was not right with her for awhile, but this was the official medical statement we'd been waiting on. She has also just undergone total knee replacement surgery in the hope that she can reclaim some of her mobility. As a former professional dancer, she has become increasingly sedentary ever since the pandemic, and that led to the further deterioration of her health. Right now she is in enormous pain, and being so far away has been heartbreaking. I miss her so much, and not being able to help with her caring has made me feel powerless.

I am not asking for luxuries. I’m thrifty, I eat healthy, I go to the gym, I meditate — I’m doing everything I can to keep myself together. But I cannot outrun the numbers anymore...

The Numbers

Total Debt: $85,000

What I need now is breathing room: enough support to pay for the basics and to invest in the few tools that will actually allow me to earn more income as a performer. These items may look small compared to the scale of my debt, but they are the immediate lifelines that would let me finally generate more consistent income through live performance and teaching.

These aren’t “nice extras.” They are the tools that allow me to take the leap from survival into growth: to busk in town, say yes to professional gigs, build my visibility as an artist, and to finally make progress on recording my album. The album is deeply important to me — it’s the heart of my creative work — yet nearly impossible to focus on while struggling to meet basic costs. With this support I can put real energy toward finishing and releasing it instead of living in constant crisis.

Beyond the music itself, I’ve also been navigating the immigration system here. I’ve been searching tirelessly for stable employment that meets the full‑time sponsorship requirement, which is unrealistic for most musicians. I just applied for my next visa after speaking with a solicitor — I paid €120 from my last concert just to get a consultation, and was then quoted nearly €4,000 including VAT to file the paperwork. This is the scale of the challenge I’m facing.

On top of everything, I don’t even have a car to get to gigs or shop for groceries. Every trip means relying on my physical strength pedaling a bike with instruments strapped to my body. In February I fell pretty hard on the rain slick pavement while carrying my violin in its case, and I hit my face on the ground despite wearing a helmet! Just last night my guitar case strap broke and I had to walk 40 minutes home in the pouring rain, carrying my guitar, violin, and bike. It was an absolutely dismal experience— and it’s a reminder of how precarious even the simplest logistics are.

That’s why I’m turning to you. My initial goal is €9,000. This would cover several months of rent and bills, visa costs, plus the gear I need to work more as a musician. Reaching €30 - 50,000 would bring me much closer to real stability and allow me to finally focus on recording my album and growing my teaching and coaching work.

I’ve always resisted asking for help. I know people often turn to GoFundMe in medical emergencies or after disasters. But I believe what I’m facing is just as real: the slow grind of debt, immigration struggles, underpaid work, and the challenge of keeping a roof over my head while trying to live as an artist and expat.

If you can give, even a small amount, thank you from the bottom of my heart. If you can’t, please consider sharing this with someone who might.

Music has always been about connection. Some of my most cherished moments are when I’m on stage — whether in a small pub, a concert hall, or on the street — and I see faces light up, people singing along, or strangers moved to tears. That exuberant response reminds me why I do this: because music creates belonging and joy.

With your help, I can keep going — not just for myself, but for everyone who believes in the power of music to create community and meaning. My music is a gift I share with others, and your support helps ensure I can continue giving it freely and fully.

With gratitude and hope,

Ayden