FEATURE: Modern-Day Queens: Lou Hayter

FEATURE:

 

 

Modern-Day Queens

 

Lou Hayter

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THERE only need to be…

one reason for including Lou Hayter in this Modern-Day Queens. There are actually many that I want to explore her incredible music. She is one of the U.K.’s best D.J.s. In fact, recently, she shared an Instagram post (which you can see underneath too) of her behind the decks playing for Spotify. It was actually for the new Kylie Minogue documentary, Kylie, which has won rave reviews. It is unflinching honest and real. You get to see new sides to the Pop icon. The fact that Lou Hayter was D.J.-ing and got to hear Kylie Minogue sing and be in this space where people saw this amazing and moving documentary. The fact Hayter was there is testament to her talent. The London-based artist, D.J. and producer is a modern great. I love her because of her music, but also because she is a big Steely Dan fan. I have written about her/this before, and I always note how there is not enough Steely Dan-adjacent and influenced music today. Why are artists not keeping that torch burning? Lou Hayter covered Time Out of Mind (from Steely Dan’s 1980 album, Gaucho), for her album, Private Sunshine (2021). As there are not many very recent interviews, I am heading back to 2024. That said, she did put out material last year, including a collaboration with the Black Science Orchestra on Wish You Were Mine. I feel that we will get another album from Lou Hayter soon, but I also want to shout out her incredible D.J. talents. One of the most respected and loved in the U.K., her sets are always incredible. I am keen to see her play in London soon, so I shall keep me eyes out as we approach summer. Before I finish this feature, there are a few interviews published in 2024 around the release of her most recent album, Unfamiliar Skin.

I am starting with an interviewing chat from Fifteen Questions. This is one of my favourite websites, as they always ask interesting questions. Around the release of Unfamiliar Skin, they spent some time with the queen Lou Hayter. I have been of her music for many years, and I think that she gets better and better. I think all of her albums – and her work with New Young Pony Club – are sublime, though her masterpiece is still ahead of her:

“According to scientific studies, we make our deepest and most incisive musical experiences between the ages of 13-16. What did music mean to you at that age and what’s changed since then?

I think even younger for me, my formative influences when I was 5 I stand by as well and I feel the same about them as I did as a child. Things like Uncertain Smile by The The, Miles Davis' Kind of Blue, Satie’s Gymnopedie, Level 42 and Madonna - I was listening to them around age 5 and I’m still completely obsessed with them.
At 13-16 I was definitely more discerning in my understanding of them I suppose and records like Portishead's Dummy, Tricky's Maxinquaye, Goldie's Timeless etc were coming out which really shaped me. I was buying records every week and soaking everything up.

What is your current studio or workspace like? What instruments, tools, equipment, and space do you need to make music?
I don’t have much at home, just my laptop, a midi keyboard, a condenser mic and Logic really.
That’s why I sample a lot because it allows me to have sounds I can’t create myself at home and it sounds kinda finished already. I’m an ideas person rather than a gear person - no gear. all the ideas. The opposite of the saying, haha.

Sometimes gear slows you down and complicates things I find. Then I take the demos to the studio to work on with my engineer.

From the earliest sketches to the finished piece, tell me about the creative process for your current release, please.

Sketches could be samples, snippets of lyrics or whole songs that I sing into my phone (often in the middle of the night).

Then, when I have time, I flesh out the demo on Logic on my dining room table. When it sounds good enough I take it to my engineer Greg Flemings and we work on it in the big studio, re-recording all the vocals etc until it sounds finished.

Do you feel that your music or your work as an artist needs to have a societal purpose or a responsibility to anyone but yourself?

I am true to myself politically and I am vocal on social media about where I stand. I have always stood up for what I believe in and for the oppressed, since I was kid I would go to marches.
But my music itself doesn’t have a political slant. I guess being a female producer in such a male dominated industry is political in itself though.

Once a piece is done and released, do you find it important that listeners understand it in a specific way? How do you deal with “misunderstandings?”

That’s interesting. I think you can’t control how people receive things. You can present it in a certain way and I think visuals help a great deal with positioning.

But once it’s out in the world it has a life of its own.

Do you feel as though writing or performing a piece of music is inherently different from something like making a great cup of coffee? What do you express through music that you couldn't or wouldn't in more 'mundane' tasks?

Yes there’s an alchemy in making music or performing it for me. For other people they might find that in something like cooking. But for me music is the highest form of art I think. The most expressive and directly emotional thing. The type of art that moves you straight away.

It’s magic, you can’t touch it, it’s just sound waves and vibrations - so it’s also the most abstract form of art”.

I am going to end with an interview from CLASH. The astonishing and hugely lauded producer was in conversation with Lou Hayter in 2024. She is one of our greatest talents. Not only as a producer and songwriter. I think her D.J. career is one that also deserves its own interviews. In terms of her inspiration, favourite sets and cities, and other D.J. queens that she loves:

“As it turns out, Lou is a natural night owl. “I’m drawn to that hypnagogic state, between wake and sleep, that’s when tonnes of ideas come into my head. I’ve lost so many ideas because I can’t quite translate it from my head into a voice memo!”

Finessing her approach over time, Lou Hayter found herself transformed into a flow state during the making of this album. She’s learned to trust herself, and that sense of surrender seeps into the free-flowing creativity on the record. “For the first time, I’ve found the music channels through me without thinking. Obviously, on some level you’re thinking… but you’re just letting things go, almost like a stream of consciousness. Sometimes you don’t understand the idea yourself, but there’s a trust that it will galvanize into the right thing, like a jigsaw puzzle.”

It’s all rooted in a sense of self-trust that has taken years to build. “I think you have to trust yourself, first and foremost. And that was harder this time, because I produced it myself… so everything was on me.”
“It was scary and exhilarating at the same time. But I think the most you take on board different people’s opinions, the more you dilute yourself. And I think it’s important not to do that.”

PHOTO CREDIT: Haruki

Inspired by her surroundings – “there’s a high bar for creative work in London” – Lou pushed herself harder and harder. Working with a defined idea of the sonics she wanted to use – 00s era R&B godheads such as Neptunes and Timbaland, the Compass Point catalogue – she was able to give the record a particular character.

Starting with lead single ‘Scorpio’ – a “reboot” as she terms it – Lou set out to create something distinct from her prior work. “I wanted to push myself. I could have done ‘part two’ of the first album, but I felt a lot of people have begun making music like that, and it’s become saturated. I wanted to go elsewhere, for a while. This was a sound palette that just really interested me.”

Album cut ‘In My Heart’ splices together Aaliyah’s imperial run of singles with her own sense of disco deviance, reflecting Lou’s passion for “space age” R&B production. “It’s that slightly sinister, very modern sound… that’s something I wanted to channel.”

Namechecking the likes of studio guru Rodney Jenkins as a point of inspiration, Lou admits that the results are 100% her own. “It goes through me and comes out the other side… so it always ends up sounding like me.”

At heart, Lou Hayter remains a passionate music fan. She has a collector’s instinct, yet remains able to chop up these sounds into something totally distinctive. Take the album title, ‘Unfamiliar Skin’ – “it has a duality,” she insists. “I am new under this skin as a producer, constructing a different sort of sonic universe.”

She’s passionate about the idea of an album, allowing songs a space to be “found”. The producer explains: “The other thing I aim for is – no filler. And I do think this is a good album, from start to finish”.

There is actually one more interview to come to. This is from the Standard. Righty naming her as one of London’s coolest women, Unfamiliar Skin “shows an artist in full control of her music and puts her firmly in the fast lane”. It was one of the best albums of 2024, and I feel it should have won awards. I also predict that Lou Hayter is going to have an amazing summer:

“After the sunshiney Eighties feel of her debut solo album Private Sunshine, this latest one is darker and more ambitious with its retro-future sci-fi art-pop. David Bowie would surely approve of its eclecticism, the way it balances personal intimacy and otherworldliness, and an uncanny ability to, well, get under your skin.

“The title Unfamiliar Skin came from a conversation with a friend where we were talking about affairs and how the pull of unfamiliar skin is so compelling to somebody in a long relationship,” she says. “But it has a duel meaning because I’m in an unfamiliar skin as a producer.”

Lou first came to attention as keyboardist in the Mercury-nominated New Young Pony Club (the year Klaxons beat Amy Winehouse to the prize), right at the height of what is now called Indie Sleaze but was then New Rave. While she has fond memories – “It was fun, like summer camp.” – her songwriting only started as the scene ended.

After establishing herself as a successful DJ, she’s now flourishing as a solo artist, bringing to bear her vast musical knowledge: “For the record, I was thinking about Compass Point Studios, the early 2000s space age, Neptunes-style production, and Massive Attack in the Blue Lines era.”

The songs tell stories of the highs and lows, the betrayals and the compromises, of love affairs: the sleepy acquiescence of OK OK, the wired solitary yearning of 3AM, the JG Ballard mind control eroticism of Frequency, which Hayter insists is based on her real abilities: “I have an increasing sense of Extra Sensory Perception. I feel I can communicate beyond the physical. My family laughed me out of the room when I told them that.”

PHOTO CREDIT: Carly Scott

It is a vivid, nocturnal neon album, which is represented well in the video to In My Heart, a Ghost in the Shell-style anime, made by former member of The Horrors, Tom Furse. Furse also created the video for album title track, which uses AI to morph Hayter’s face onto classic movie characters, so we get to see her as Sean Connery in Dr. No and, less of a stretch, Claudia Cardinale in 8 ½. This is a classic kind of British pop music, where the effortless appeal belies an uncompromising sophistication.

Hayter says she surprised herself with how her ideas came together: “It’s exciting. I didn’t know I was going to make this record, it just poured out of me. For the first time I felt I wasn’t overthinking, I was channelling. That was interesting for me, to listen to it and think what is this record? Like ‘In My Heart’, when I was making that, I knew I had these elements, and I knew they were going to work together but I didn’t know how. It suddenly fell together but I wasn’t expecting it to sound like that myself”.

If you do not know Lou Hayter or connected with her when she was with New Young Pony Club, you have to check out her solo work. Go and see her D.J. You can read more about her D.J. highlights and bio on her official website. The queen that is Lou Hayter is a jewel in the music scene. One of our finest D.J.s, and a phenomenal producer. Despite the fact she has been in the industry for a long time, I do think that her best and most glorious days…

ARE coming soon.

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Follow Lou Hayter

FEATURE: Mondern-Day Queens: Ecca Vandal

FEATURE:

 

 

Modern-Day Queens

PHOTO CREDIT: Sean McDonald

 

Ecca Vandal

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MANY people have probably heard…

of Ecca Vandal, though there are some who are not aware of the brilliance of this wonderful artist. Rather than include her in Spotlight – as she has been recording for a while now -, I thought best to include her in Modern-Day Queens. As that is what she is. It is a good time to connect with her music, as she released the album, LOOKING FOR PEOPLE TO UNFOLLOW, on 22nd May. I am going to come to some recent interviews with Vandal. One from late last year, and a recent one ahead of the release of her latest album. I am going to start out with Earmilk and their article that reacted to news of the announcement of LOOKING FOR PEOPLE TO UNFOLLOW:

“Rock audiences are always looking for what’s next, especially when it comes to women pushing the genre forward. Two decades ago, it was Paramore, led by Hayley Williams. More recently, artists like boygenius, St. Vincent, Japanese Breakfast, Willow, and Courtney Barnett have carved out space on their own terms across indie, alternative, pop, and traditional rock. Now, Ecca Vandal is stepping into that lineage with her upcoming album LOOKING FOR PEOPLE TO UNFOLLOW, out May 22 via Loma Vista Recordings.

To put it mildly, Ecca Vandal is shock value personified. Her bright blue hair and micro bangs, eclectic vintage style, and inconceivable vocal range (that shifts from soulful riffs to guttural scream-singing in the same bar) are only part of the draw. On paper, it might read like a rock artist starter pack, but in practice, it never feels forced. When she steps onstage, there’s a clarity to who she is. There’s no posturing, no performance of identity. And in that, there’s an unspoken invitation for listeners to meet her with the same honesty.

​​A Sri Lankan Tamil–Australian artist, emerging from Melbourne’s DIY punk scene, Vandal has built a reputation for high-energy performances and a sound that resists easy categorization. Pulling from punk, hip-hop, jazz, and electronic, her music moves with intention, often exploring identity, power, independence, and self-expression without settling into a single lane. Drawing from artists as different as Nina Simone and Fugazi, Vandal has long leaned into contrast. This time, that instinct is sharpened into a central idea: subtraction—letting go of what drains your energy and distorts your sense of self.

“The systems. The trends. The illusions of connection. I find empowerment in being loud and noisy, especially as a woman in this global moment who grew up in a culture that told me I could not be those things,” she says.

That mindset shows up immediately in the song rollout. Her latest single, “SORRY! CRASH!,” lands with a kind of unfiltered energy that feels intentionally untouched, resisting the urge to be polished into something more digestible. It follows earlier releases—“CRUISING TO SELF SOOTHE,” “BLEED BUT NEVER DIE,” "BLEACH," "MOLLY," and “THEN THERE’S ONE”—that together point toward a record that supports saying what you feel exactly how you want to, delivery be damned.

A powerhouse lyrical anthem, “BLEED BUT NEVER DIE" is a breakout song on the record. It showcases various aspects of her vocals, including a smooth singing voice in the bridge following a rock-n-roll heavy chorus. The stretched lullaby-ish lyrics "I'm done with fools like you" juxtaposed against the scream chorus is subversive for a stereotypical rock song and it works excellently.

“CRUISING TO SELF SOOTHE" is a fan favorite record. The high-pitched shriek paired with the pumped-up electric guitar and intense drumming that opens the song pulls you in immediately! Vandal is almost saying, I won't and can't be boxed in.

The song “THEN THERE’S ONE” has a distinctly different flair. Coming in at just 1 minute and 19 seconds, she gets straight to the point. With just vocals and a synthesizer, she showcases the musical appetite of her South Asian culture in electronic form.

A big part of Vandals message comes from how the album was made. She recorded and produced the project alongside Richie Buxton in his childhood bedroom in bayside Melbourne.

“We cut out everything that didn’t serve us, the timelines, the metrics, the pressure to ‘stay visible’ online. We tuned out of the feed and turned inwards," she says.

"In Richie’s childhood bedroom, we built a tiny home studio, four walls that became a universe. The internet was painfully slow, so we were truly disconnected from the online game. Deep in bayside Melbourne, far from our inner-city friends, that little room became our whole world for nearly two years. It held all our chaos and all our clarity, a little ‘playpen’ where we could live, play and experiment like teenagers again. We started making things with our hands again, tangible, imperfect, and real. We wanted to celebrate long-form, the idea of an album as a whole body of work, while the world was chasing 15-second snippets and algorithm-friendly noise. So we left behind the room packed with industry chatter and opinions, and created our own little haven. And honestly, it was magic. The best decision we’ve ever made.”

That sense of intention—of pulling back to move forward—sits at the center of LOOKING FOR PEOPLE TO UNFOLLOW. Even as Vandal steps onto bigger stages, including her upcoming Coachella debut later this month, stage show at Lollapalooza, and a tour supporting Deftones, the project feels grounded and deliberate. It’s less about being everywhere at once, and more about choosing exactly where and how she wants to be heard”.

The first interview I am coming to is from Alternative Press. They write how, although Ecca Vandal is not new to the industry and released her first recording back in 2014, 2025 was her breakout year. It was a good moment to spotlight an extraordinary and super-talented artist. In terms of sound and talent, I don’t think that there is anyone like her on the scene. You can imagine her working alongside some of her contemporary heroes very soon:

“Born in South Africa with a very traditional upbringing, Vandal was exposed to an eclectic array of music — however disparate it may seem from her current sound. “In the home, it was gospel music. It was soul music. It was traditional South African music, and it was also Sri Lankan music because my parents came from Sri Lanka before they came to South Africa.” And though punk offered a real perspective shift years later, much of these early sounds have seeped into her work today. There is, I realize quickly, authenticity and self-knowledge deep in the bones of everything Vandal does. “Gospel music is heavily choral, and everyone's singing in beautiful harmony at the top of their lungs. It's so expressive, and that's something that I learned from that music as a kid. How to really express yourself fully… I would say Sri Lankan music is incredibly beat-driven. It's party music and incredibly fun. You’ve probably heard those rhythms done so beautifully by M.I.A. It's called Baila, celebration music — and that was the music that we partied to as kids.” She takes time thinking of each answer — it’s been years since Vandal has done an interview, though the nerves she warned me of have yet to show up. She’s fluid, honest, and intuitive — just like the version of Vandal that’s gone viral in our feeds.

Though she has siblings, they are older, growing up was a solitary experience, especially when it came to finding an identity. Left to her own devices, sourcing of her own music and style rested entirely on Vandal’s shoulders. “My friends were looking to other people, and I really wanted to find icons that I could follow. But I honestly didn't really resonate with a lot of people… I just was more interested in the way people express themselves.” I notice Vandal rarely, if ever, seems to complain — everything comes with a hefty side of gratitude. “I just had a lot of time on my hands as a child. I was sad that I couldn't go to the club with my sisters, so I had my own little party at home.” Alone, Vandal pored obsessively through whatever records were within reach, without a mentor, but also without a voice in her ear dictating the good versus the bad, in versus out. Vandal sought nothing but an expression she could relate to. And she first found that in jazz.

“No one was telling me that jazz was cool. I just realized that it made me feel something, and I wanted to know a lot more about it,” she says, wide-eyed. Allowing her new passion to run rampant, Vandal secretly auditioned for jazz music school in Australia — and was accepted, against her parents’ wishes. “That was the moment I was like, ‘Oh wow.’ It totally blew my mind and opened up a world of music that I didn't really know existed.” Quickly, she was a fixture hugging the wall at jazz clubs, consuming as much instrumental music as possible, though Vandal’s world was just beginning to expand. School soon led her to Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holiday, and the broad landscape of vocal jazz. But though the world as she knew it had grown wider, Vandal’s scope was still narrow. Then one day, a friend handed her a Radiohead CD.

“That CD, and guitar-based music in general, changed my world… I became obsessed with punk music. I had a really shitty little guitar, so I started playing really badly into my Garage Band.” Coming from the refined technicality of jazz, she’d immediately found what she had been looking for. “I was drawn to the way that they just freely expressed themselves and used their voices — and that was exactly what they intended to do. It was loud. It was unapologetic. I wanted to do that myself. It inspired me to go, ‘I want to say something and express my own feelings in that way too.’”

When, as young people, we home in our interests — especially if it falls under the “alternative” umbrella — the next step is often to find the “scene.” Spawned from Black Flag in Hermosa Beach, there was the male-dominated Los Angeles hardcore scene of the 1980s. In the early aughts, emo’s third wave — primarily straight, white kids — held communion on Warped Tour black tops and in MySpace forums. The 2010s saw a tight, exclusive, and drug-addled network of American Apparel-ed folks holding court in downtown NYC.

“By this time, I was in Australia, so I didn't really find myself within specific communities or scenes at all. I didn't really feel like I fit into any scenes there. I grew up in a very white neighborhood. I went to a very white school. I didn’t feel like I quite had a place to go, even though I was discovering alternative music. It didn't feel like I was quite included in that space. It was just me discovering all of this stuff on my own. Community is super important to music and to art, but also, I'm not really interested in ‘scenes because I think that really separates a lot of people, especially for people of my skin color and women as well, you can feel very unwelcome in certain spaces. So I'm not about scenes at all, but I definitely believe in community and building community. I'm all about that. I'm still finding my community. If I'm honest, I'm still finding who that is and where that fits in the world. That's why I love traveling so much”.

What really grounds her has been the people she’s surrounded herself with. And like everything, intention is at play — “It's really important that I surround myself with the right people… I feel like if I can have a little bit of a family travel with me, that's everything. It's really kind of a family band in a way.” But though she’s been rightfully particular about the inner circle, its bounds are flexible for the right fit. “I'm really drawn to people who have an opinion and who are really strong within themselves,” she explains. “People who've had the experience before me and who are willing to share it and to give me advice freely. Because I've been around a lot of people who have had the experience but don't necessarily want to share their experience or their story.”

That’s another thing Vandal hasn’t had to wait long for. Her feed is a checkerboard of icons, now mentors — there she is, an arm wrapped around Travis Barker, or Shirley Manson, or Hayley Williams — though she describes to me how these aren’t passerby flicks with a famous person. Each photo pays homage to an “OG” who has played a role in Vandal’s ascent. “It's love and practical support. I've been on calls with them, asking for advice. They give me real support, not just like, ‘Oh, I've reshared your video.’” In fact, it was Manson who bestowed one of the most important pieces of advice Vandal has yet to receive: “Don’t change a thing”.

Prior to coming to a new feature and interview from The Guardian, I do want to drop in a live review from LOUDER. They observed how Ecca Vandal was a breath of fresh air and a star in the making. I agree that “she's got the songs, the skills, the attitude and the aura to become alt.rock's next 'new' star”:

“If you search on YouTube, there's a seven year old video of Ecca Vandal brilliantly covering Rihanna's Bitch Better Have My Money (with a bonus coda involving Kelis' Milkshake) for Australian radio station Triple J's Like A Version series. We bring this up not simply to illustrate the South Africa-born, Melbourne-based singer's vocal dexterity, and excellent taste in music, but to point out that although she's still very much an emerging artist, Vandal hasn't been fast-tracked for success, and has already put in hard yards: in fact, her earliest singles emerged a full ten years ago.

Having just performed at Reading and Leeds festivals, there's no real need for Vandal to be playing two nights at the 150-capacity Sebright Arms, but we're glad that she chose to do so. When she first emerged, the singer cited the likes of Bjork, Mr. Bungle, Fugazi and Deftones as influences, and while you'd be hard-pressed to hear elements of those artists in the succinct alt. hip-hop of Then There's One, or the fabulously raging pop-punk of Bleed But Never Die, those inspirations speak to her ambitions to follow her own path as an artist, shunning obvious or more easily-accessible routes to success.
She's a wonderfully dynamic, effervescent performer too, in-your-face and boundlessly energetic, holding the attention of everyone in the room from the moment she appears on this east London basement venue's non-stage, and retaining it throughout an all-action set.

Fred Durst has taken Vandal under his wing, having brought her on tour in Europe with Limp Bizkit earlier this year, regularly inviting her onstage, and back in April the singer shared a 'pinch me' moment on Instagram, revealing that she'd been jamming with Wes Borland and Rage Against The Machine drummer Brad Wilk at the legendary Rancho de la Luna studio in Joshua Tree, California. All of which suggests that Vandal isn't nervous or awed about the prospect of stepping up into the big leagues. Nights like this - and songs as good as the superb, utterly infectious Cruising To Self Soothe - suggest that she's more than ready.

The music business is notoriously cruel and fickle, but it'd be great to see her given the opportunity to shoot her shot”.

I am writing this ahead of LOOKING FOR PEOPLE TO UNFOLLOW, so some more reviews might come to light between now and when this is published. Though there is one I have found and want to include. I am moving now to The Guardian and their recent conversation with a brilliant Australian artist who should definitely be in your sight. Go and listen to her extraordinary music. Her anticipated and extraordinary new album is a “punchy rejection of ‘faux-sincerity’ and music being reduced to TikTok-able snippets”:

“On the first Friday in May, a procession of tattooed, pierced and mostly 20-something devotees crowded into a beers-and-burgers dive bar in Sydney’s Newtown. What was originally billed as a listening party for Ecca Vandal’s second album, Looking For People to Unfollow, had evolved into a surprise live set. Bounding onstage, Vandal was a blur of movement and brilliant blue hair, locking eyes with fans in the front row as she, alongside bassist Richie Buxton and drummer Dan Maio, tore through new material with garage-band intensity. Less than 24 hours later, the trio swapped the intimacy of Newtown for an arena where they opened for Interpol and Deftones.

Despite the ease Vandal projects in rooms of any size, the pre-show jitters never disappear. “It’s a very challenging set that we play – musically, physically and vocally,” Vandal says. “Playing music people have never heard before is also a really big challenge. But those nerves just disappear when people are showing you love.”

There’s been a lot of love coming Ecca Vandal’s way of late, thanks to a run of standout singles including Cruising to Self Soothe and Bleed But Never Die. When I meet her at a busy Newtown cafe days after the two Deftones shows, she is still processing the long road to releasing an album she fully believes in. “It’s about to come out in a few weeks, but it’s been a journey of four years,” she says.

Those four years – during which Vandal went “completely offline” – began with a period of soul-searching after her 2017 self-titled album and guest spots with artists including Hilltop Hoods, Alice Ivy and Sampa The Great. While moving freely between genres in those years, she says, “I had a lot of people saying, ‘You’ll be really successful if you just pick a lane.’” She decided instead to do what she wanted.

Vandal began working on the new album in the Melbourne apartment she shared with Richie Buxton, her partner in both music and life. Making music in a tiny apartment, however, became untenable: “I was trying to track really, really heavy vocals [and] we got knocks on our door going, ‘Can you keep it down?’”

The pair decamped to Buxton’s parents’ house down the road and set up in a garage without an internet connection. “We were like kids again, messing around with instruments, trying things out,” she says. “I didn’t have to keep anyone in touch with what we were doing.”

Those intimate recording sessions found her “the most raw I’ve ever been lyrically”. Inspired by Buxton’s beats and riffs, she channelled a tangle of her own emotions and experiences as a woman of colour against the backdrop of seismic world events such as the murder of George Floyd. At the core of the album, she says, is a “search for true connection” and “trying to fight against the faux-sincerity of the online world”.

Midway through the Newtown listening party, Vandal’s manager stepped onstage to gently inform the room that the second half would shift away from rock and into more beat-driven territory. Vandal hopes fans will engage with the album as a whole. During the writing process, she says, she and Buxton “were noticing that the world was just so obsessed with 15-second snippets. To me, that was really uninspiring. I just wanted to celebrate long form again.”

Looking For People to Unfollow is also the strongest showcase yet of Ecca Vandal’s richly textured, powerful voice, equally at home on hip-hop hooks and punk howls – a “guttural and disordered” register and “the complete opposite of, like, polish and refinement and beauty”.

What was the best year for music, and what five songs prove it?

1993. Oh My God – A Tribe Called Quest; Method Man – Wu-Tang Clan; My Name is Mud – Primus; 93 ‘Til Infinity – Souls of Mischief; Serve the Servants – Nirvana/

What music do you clean the house to?

Anything by Aphex Twin

What’s the song you wish you wrote?

All I Need by Radiohead

What is the last song you sang in the shower?

Singin’ in the Rain

If your life was a movie, what would the opening credits song be?

Bitch Better Have My Money

What underrated song deserves classic status?

Multi-Love by Unknown Mortal Orchestra

What is a song you loved as a teenager?

Björk’s Hyper-ballad. Still love it today

What song do you want played at your funeral?

Out of Time by Blur

What is the best song to have sex to?

Left & Right by D’Angelo”.

I will come to a review of LOOKING FOR PEOPLE TO UNFOLLOW. A deserved and undoubtable Modern-Day Queen who is going to continue to grow and I cannot wait to see where her career takes her, LOOKING FOR PEOPLE TO UNFOLLOW could well stand with the best albums of this year. Given how many people are behind her and the quality of sound, Ecca Vandal is a sensation! If you are new to her, then I would suggest you follow her. Currently touring and heading to Europe soon, she will come to the U.K. on 28th June for Outbreak Festival.

CLASH shared their review of LOOKING FOR PEOPLE TO UNFOLLOW. I was not aware of Ecca Vandal before his year, so I am listening back to her 2017 eponymous album. Since then, she has released singles. There is a lot of justifiable excitement around her new album. A hugely admired and respected artist:

“With her eponymous debut album in 2017, Ecca Vandal had established herself as a genre-bending force to be reckoned with. The Sri Lankan, South African-born, Melbourne-based artist remained unconcerned with fitting into preconceived parameters and instead, leaned into the thrill of travelling from one sound to the next, honing an eclectic, diverse sound. After the album’s release, Vandal began to separate herself from the outside world, eventually going offline for four years and, joined by her producer/collaborator Richie Buxton in his childhood bedroom-turned-studio, the seeds of ‘LOOKING FOR PEOPLE TO UNFOLLOW’ were planted.

Such an immersive process is unsurprising, considering the insular world that Vandal’s music channels, one that is deeply personal while also tied to larger, universal commentaries on politics, identity and more. “I find empowerment in being loud and noisy especially as a woman in this global moment who grew up in a culture that told me I could not be those things,” Vandal shared, in a statement announcing her sophomore release. ‘LOOKING FOR PEOPLE TO UNFOLLOW’ hears Vandal’s self-assured voice soar across an expansive 17-track album, which fluctuates from jolting punk melodies to softer meditations.

‘LOOKING FOR PEOPLE TO UNFOLLOW’ can roughly be split in half. The first opens with an immediacy: ‘EYES SHUT’ hears guitars and drums reminiscent of an old MTV promo, as Vandal tackles the privileged and wealthy. “They’re playing God / And saying nothing’s wrong,” she warns. ‘SORRY! CRASH!’, the album’s lead single, carries the same energy; I’m reminded of Idles’ ‘War’ in its thundering percussion. “Light my dread up in neon,” Vandal commands, “I gotta get my name all up in lights.” It’s an evocative exposure of the in-between of chaos and control, and a highlight on the album.

Vandal’s roots in skater culture strengthen as the album continues. From the viral hit ‘CRUISING TO SELF SOOTHE’ that pays homage to skaters in its sound and visuals, to the clear pop-punk parallels in ‘BLEED BUT NEVER DIE,’ each song rings like the perfect melody to glide along to. It is clear that Vandal’s musical roots are in jazz music; her ear for such melodies and ability to find the right groove in a chosen song is clear.

Then, about midway through with ‘OKAY NOT TO BE OKAY,’ we ease into the second half of the album with a synth-driven tune, short but sweet with a cry for connection in the midst of feeling lost: “Screaming hello / To find my echo / ‘Cos we’re still chasing / To feel.” The trip-hop immersion of ‘THEN THERE’S ONE’ is the standout of the album — even at just over a minute long, the song is bound to get stuck in your head, happily so, and we yearn for it to be even longer.

‘BLEACH’ settles into the second half with the perfect blend of Vandal’s array of sounds, hip-hop meets punk meets pop. The dance-driven beats continue on ‘DO IT ANYWAY,’ playfully upbeat with a story of throwing all caution to the wind — for better or for worse. The album closes with two politically-charged anthems: ‘GHOSTS’ addresses historical whitewashing, rejecting empty promises and in turn, reclaiming power: “We’ll tear down the statues made of stone,” Vandal declares, “We’re living facts that brown and black is gold.” If those in power will not listen, as they claim to do, Vandal will make certain that she is heard. The final track is ‘CAME HERE FOR THE LOOT,’ a dismantling of oppressive forces and false idols. Vandal challenges greed, conspiracy theories and more, and with a nu metal blend of hip-hop melodies and abrasive guitars, the album closes with a slow melodic unwind, and Vandal’s final words: “I won’t wait.”

Always unpredictable, and defiantly so, ‘LOOKING FOR PEOPLE TO UNFOLLOW’ hears Vandal elevate her eclecticism to new heights, with lyrical storytelling that stands politically and socially aware, while embracing the fun of contrasting melodies along the way.

8/10”.

I am going to round things up now. Anyone new to Ecca Vandal should go and listen to her music. LOOKING FOR PEOPLE TO UNFOLLOW will be out by the time this is published. Always eclectic and constantly moving, CLASH’s words about how Vandal’s voice “elevate her eclecticism to new heights”. That she does have this political and social conscience, but she can also be personal and there is this fun and energy weaving through her music. Incredible melodies and real spark. I think VERTICAL WORLDS might be my favourite song from LOOKING FOR PEOPLE TO UNFOLLOW. Whichever song of Ecca Vandal’s is your top choice, you can’t deny she is an artist in her own league. A big reason why I wanted to…

SALUTE this queen.

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FEATURE: Spotlight: Ellie O'Neill

FEATURE:

 

 

Spotlight

 

Ellie O'Neill

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A debut that ranks alongside…

the most impressive of this year, Time of Fallow came out on 20th March. It is the work of the incredible Ellie O’Neill. I am going to spotlight an artist that you should know about. There are a few interviews with O’Neill that I want to cover and explore, so that we can get a bigger impression of a musician who has a growing fanbase. It is clear that Ellie O’Neill is going to be a star. She is garnering a lot of attention and love. Music Week spoke with Ellie O’Neill around the release Time of Fallow came out. It is a stunning album:

“You recorded Time Of Fallow way back in 2021 – can you put into words how you feel about it finally coming out?

“It has had a long life already, so I’m definitely excited for it to be out. I don’t see music as a product, so that’s partially why I was slow to get it released. For me, a song is out when I’ve written it and I’m like, ‘Perfect, I love that.’ Before, it felt like the songs were already released, because I had shared them with people at so many gigs... I’ve played a lot of gigs! But it was cool to have time to find the thread that connected the songs. The title encompasses the weight of their content, but also the fact that it was a downtime and an isolated experience for me to write them, a time of learning, of going inwards to then re-emerge afterwards.”

How would you define the music you make?

“The first record I ever loved was a Christy Moore album, and folk and country are definitely a part of what I make, but when I listen to songwriter music like Arthur Russell, I feel closer to that. But I don’t know where I fall and I don’t really care. In school, I was learning guitar, but I would never sing. Then I learned a KT Tunstall song or something and I was like, ‘Oh my God, cool, I can play and sing at the same time!’ [Laughs]. I would always be really shy and then when I’d sing on stage I would be totally chill. I just loved the feeling. It’s not about the hit that you get from being good at something in front of people. It’s more of a deepening or a grounding that you feel, because you actually can’t do anything else in that moment.”

As an independent act, how have you found the industry?

“It is definitely hard to survive and it can be an unbelievably elitist industry. Most people you meet have some kind of safety net. I really appreciate when well-known artists are transparent about the challenges for people coming up. Everything is weighed against you, so you have to be smart about how you manage that. I’m really lucky to have got to this point, to be talking to you about my songs. It’s pretty crazy. But when I tell my friends who aren’t in music how much things cost, they’re like, ‘What?!’ If you go into it not expecting that, then maybe you’d be more shocked, but I’m not in it for the money. If I was, I would be very, very upset all the time [laughs]!”

Do you think your stance on not viewing music as a product could ever change?

“I really hope not. I don’t know if I can make good things while thinking only about the audience. For me, music is private, a little safe thing I want to protect. That idea is really important to me. It’s not about what happens at the end, it’s about getting to know yourself or your instrument more and what you feel right now. I wrote most of the album in my bedroom in my parents’ house, with my brothers running around or while literally putting on my boots to play a [Gaelic] football match. It demythologised this whole ‘cabin in the woods’ idea of songwriting. The songwriting part of me is the thing I want to cultivate and keep alive, because it makes me feel so good. It makes me feel everything. If that can be a lifelong companion, as I hope it will be, then that will be a massive yes for me”.

Back in January, The Line of Best Fit interviewed Ellie O’Neill. They write how her “music and identity is driven by the rejection of prescribed paths and a search to discover her own authentic voice”. I have only just connected with this wonderful artist. I am curious if she will be playing near London at some point:

“We go back to the beginning, and her earliest influences. She wasn’t from a particularly musical household. “I think music was kind of a left-field thing for me to be so into. But my dad did teach me my first chords: a song called ‘Bright Blue Rose’ written by Jimmy MacCarthy, which is so, so beautiful.” She took formal guitar lessons but was the only girl in the class of six, so mostly taught herself at home. She rinsed her parents’ Michael Jackson and Christy Moore CDs. Aged 19, she discovered Judee Sill; then, later, Leonard Cohen and Adrianne Lenker.

In April 2024, O’Neill opened for Lenker on the Irish leg of the Bright Future tour, including an unforgettable show at St Canice’s Cathedral in Kilkenny. The two artists bonded a little off-stage over their shared horror of the internet. She has also supported Irish folk artist John Francis Flynn, who was so impressed that he invited O’Neill to duet with him in the main set.

The audience at the ICA are won over in a similar way. They’re here to see Dove Ellis, and when O’Neill steps on stage, they’re still chattering and chuntering, but as soon as she opens her mouth and starts to race around the octaves, their attention turns rapt. It is pin-drop silent for the songs, while the din that follows each one just keeps escalating, not least because of the way she ends them, with a flight of falsetto or an abrupt and punchy stop. By the end, the atmosphere is raucous. As O’Neill plays the final descending chords of “Peter’s Song” and ducks out, one Ellis fan turns to his mate, both of them looking mildly dazed. “That was incredible,” he grins. “We can go home now.”

O’Neill’s distinctive, tuned-down, freewheeling guitar-playing has attracted almost as much attention as her voice, and she says there’s a clear parallel between her interest in reinventing artistic form, and her sexuality. “I think trying to find a way around the guitar that isn’t given to me is similar to what you have to do as a queer person – finding a route that isn’t given to you. In terms of both queerness and art, you don’t have a map so you have to crash your way through, even if that’s in a very personal, silent way. I think there’s obvious reasons why a lot of queer people are artists or activists or both.”

At some stage, she will get another band together, but at the moment she’s most energised by the idea of ambitious studio work. “Before I’d made my first thing ever, I was really purist about it, like, ‘I want to be able to replicate it live’, and now I don’t care about that. I’m just interested in being surprised about what I can make, thinking, ‘There’s so much more I can do.’”

Her most recent release is an elusive, hypnotic second single, “Little Sister”, which took twice as long to write as “Bohemia”, at a whopping 20 minutes. “It’s an example, I think, of how lots of things are almost suspended in your mind, or wherever you keep them, and then they just come up in the stream.”

Of late, she has been writing in a more direct and grounded vein. “That’s really freeing. To say, ‘It doesn’t all have to be like a dream.’ The gateway for me was starting to write portrait songs as gifts for people. I did the first one during Covid. Do you know that feeling of, ‘Oh actually people that you love don’t live near you, probably forever, and you just won’t see them all the time’? It’s such a crazy thing to me. But it’s nice to feel that at least you have that song”.

There are a couple of other interviews to include before finishing off. Hotpress spent some time with Ellie O’Neill last month. In this amazing interview, she spoke about, among other things, “football, slowing down, boundary-pushing Irish artists, and touring with Adrianne Lenker”:

“Ellie has made no effort to dull down the edges of her own Irish identity for broader international appeal – with lyrics referencing Skibbereen, Auburn Street in Phibsborough, “Cailleach and Clothrú”, and the “curve of the Samhain moon”.

“I feel like Irish artists have always done that – especially the good ones,” she notes. “If you're writing from a true place, you're not filtering that for the sake of commercial gain, or for the sake of an end product. I always think about the amount of times that Sinéad is referencing parts of home that are just immediately Irish."

But, as she points out, "Ireland is obviously a cultural moment – and that can be a good and a bad thing for an Irish person writing music."

"Because it can just be picked up as fodder in that machine," she elaborates. "But you have to just do it. You have to just write whatever you need to write, and hope that it means something for you, and hope that it means something for somebody else as a secondary bonus.

“It's my way of understanding myself, and my life, and the people around me as well. So not using that would be a disservice – and an untruth, probably.”

Although Time of Fallow has yet to be released at the time of our conversation, Ellie is already looking forward to having “a bit of silence again” in her head, to carve out a path towards her next project.

“I just want to keep writing songs, and keep growing. I really feel like I'm still so new to it, in terms of the length of my career, the length of my understanding of the craft of writing songs – and, hopefully, the length of my life.

“But the funny thing for me is that once the song is written, it's already out – I've had that moment with it," she says of the release. "So in a way, this moment is for other people”.

It is worth coming to CLASH and their interesting interview with Ellie O’Neill. I do think that there are so many tremendous Irish artists putting out music of the highest order. Go and listen to Time of Fallow as soon as possible. It genuinely is one of the best debut albums of this year:

“Congrats on the reaction to ‘Time Of Fallow’ – you must be thrilled! How does it feel to finally have the album out there?

Very good!

I’ve read the earliest song on the record was penned while you were still an English Literature undergraduate – how important were you studies on your creative process? Do you hear reflections of your literary heroes / heroines in your own lyrics?

I think everything I write is informed by everything I read and love. I like to feel in communion with other writers and I feel closer to writers I love a lot of the time rather than musicians.

Some of the impetus for completing the recordafter you were forced to move back home during the pandemic. What was that experience like?

I had always lived between home and Dublin, so it was normal to me, except I had more time in the house than before. It wasn’t an impetus for completing the record, and I wasn’t forced to move back, I chose to, like a lot of people my age at the time. I felt lucky to have the privilege of doing that, and wanted to use my time well.

I’ve read you would write after your family had gone to bed – do you think that’s a factor in the slightly hushed quietude on the record?

I think it’s quiet at times because I am singing about intimate things, and I write mostly with headphones on to hear my own voice clearly and go deep so I don’t need to project that much. It is also not quiet at times, there’s diversity of tone and projection across the album, I think. It’s easier to write in solitude.

‘Seabird’ is a deeply affecting closing statement, did you always conceive of it as the final song? The album’s structure is also curious – did you enjoy toying with notions of linearity through this?

I don’t think this song is really what I would call ‘affecting’, I think it’s full of lightness and ease. That take on the record was just a rehearsal, it’s very laid back and blossoms easily for that reason. I never conceived of my songs as an album, so nothing was written as a functional thing, just expressions and outpourings”.

There are some really positive reviews for Time of Fallow. Coming back to CLASH, they note how there is a lot to consider and chew on with regards this album. Even though a lot of the words might ring personally to Ellie O’Neill, her songs are universal. She is an artist I am really looking forward hearing more from. I do hope to see her perform live one day:

“There’s something transformational about the music of Ellie O’Neill. The Irish songwriter’s debut album ‘Time Of Fallow’ picks you up in one space, and deposits you in another – listening to it, you’re left feeling like a pebble in the current, pushed downstream to pastures new. A pared-back selection of alt folk minimalism, these sketch-like pieces are uniquely powerful, resulting in a debut album that leaves a palpable impact.

Music that discusses memory, grief, desire, and self-reckoning, the material on ‘Time Of Fallow’ was penned in the aftermath of the pandemic, a time when Ellie O’Neill was forced to return to her family home on a County Meath council estate. A period of personal change, the songs came to reflect her queer identity, while also looking more broadly at community, heritage, and the quiet evolution Ireland itself was embarking on.

In short, there’s a lot to chew on across the space of this remarkable debut album. Lead single ‘Silent Water’ contains a heart-stopping beauty, while songs like ‘Anna With The Silver Arrow’ or ‘Sister Of The Sea’ contain real complexities. It’s all set to wonderful music, of course – the pirouetting guitar lines, the undulating melodies, given enough space to breathe a little in the minimalist framework.

Recalling Laura Marling or Karen Dalton in its stark simplicity, ‘Time Of Fallow’ was recorded in a matter of days at Analogue Catalogue in Newry, a tape-first, female-run studio. There’s a unique atmosphere to ‘Sean’s Song’ for example, the sound of someone putting themselves out there on the line. ‘Witness’ is framed by truth, while closer ‘Seabird’ rises to the heavens, a soul unleashed.

Rooted in a very specific locality, ‘Time Of Fallow’ broadens its scope to become something universal. A wonderful experience, Ellie O’Neill’s debut album should be treasured.

8/10”.

You really do need to go and follow Ellie O’Neill. Even though I am quite new to her music, I do feel like I am going to be listening to her years from now. There is something about Time of Fallow that gets under your skin. She is going to sit alongside the best songwriters in modern music and I feel that she will hit that peak…

VERY shortly.

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Follow Ellie O’Neill

FEATURE: All the Clubs Have Been Closed Down: The Specials’ Ghost Town at Forty-Five

FEATURE:

 

 

All the Clubs Have Been Closed Down

IN THIS PHOTO: The Specials (left-right: Lynval Golding, John Bradbury, Terry Hall, Jerry Dammers, Neville Staple, Roddy Radiation and Horace Panter) photographed on the roof of the Coventry Odeon, 1979/PHOTO CREDIT: Chalkie Davies/Getty Images

 

The Specials’ Ghost Town at Forty-Five

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THIS must rank…

IN THIS PHOTO: The Specials in NYC circa 1980/PHOTO CREDIT: Allan Tannenbaum/IMAGES/Getty Images

alongside the most urgent and powerful singles ever released. On 6th June, 1981, The Specials released Ghost Town. It reflected unemployment and violence in inner cities. It was a chart success around the time where were riots happening in British cities. There were also tensions within the band, meaning it was the final that featured all original seven members. Even though The Specials were struggling and there were inter-band hostilities, the music press hailed and commended a vital piece of social commentary. A song that seemed to reflect this haunting and dark mood. One of the best songs of 1981, there is a modern-day relevance to Ghost Town. In the sense that there are protests and disruptions today. Far-right protestors and those who feel they are ‘patriots’. Pro-Palestine groups arrested and seen as the enemy. Clashes and groups of protestors pitted against one another. Violence and aggression in streets. Though not as extreme as was seen in 1981, there are aspects of what The Specials documented in Ghost Town and what we are seeing. Some would say the situations are different, as Ghost Town was released at a time of mass unemployment, urban decay and Black British youths clashing with police. Today, there is a different sort of threat. The youths were reacting to being victimised by police and a perceived racist agenda. Around the U.K., things were pretty bleak. In terms of The Specials, The band would travel around the country and see shops with the shutters down. Clubs closed down. It was despairing. The tour for The Specials’ More Specials album in late-1980 was a terrible breaking point. The band were exhausted from recording and touring. Members angry at bandleader Jerry Dammers, as he insisted on including ‘muzak’ keyboard sounds on the album. There were gigs that saw audience members attack one another. It was such a terrible time, I am surprised the band continued at all! 1984’s In the Studio was released under the name, Special AKA, but it would not be until 1996 when we got an album from The Specials. It was a cover that did not include all the original members.

We sadly lost Terry Hall in 2022. Even though Jerry Dammers wrote Ghost Town, Terry Hall provided the lead vocals. Full of weight and foreboding, he also made the song one that has endured to this day. Ghost Town went to number one in the U.K. upon its release. In 2020, The Guardian voted for the best U.K. number ones. Ghost Town came second. The dark power of the song and “its harrowing wail of a chorus, plunges you straight back into the anger, violence and despair of the early 80s”:

“In early 1981, the Specials were both at the top of their game and in their death throes. They had enjoyed a dizzying, agenda-setting rise to fame. Seven top 10 singles and two gold albums in two years; an entire youth subculture formed in their wake; a record label, 2 Tone, that seemed to guarantee success for anyone who signed to it: Madness, the Selecter, the Beat, the Bodysnatchers.

But the Specials were falling apart. They were overworked and riven with internal disagreements about the jazz and easy-listening-influenced direction leader Jerry Dammers was taking them in. They were a band born out of political and racial tension. They had changed their name from the Coventry Automatics and started playing a punky take on ska, with lyrics pleading for racial tolerance and unity, after a 1978 gig supporting the Clash was disrupted by the National Front. But now political and racial tension was threatening to engulf them. Guitarist Lynval Golding was seriously injured in a racist attack in south London. Gigs on their late 1980 tour were marred by audience violence: in Cambridge, Dammers and vocalist Terry Hall were arrested and charged with incitement to riot after trying to stop the fighting. The band announced they would quit touring.

Things came to a head in the studio while trying to record their next single, Ghost Town, a song Dammers had spent a year writing, horrified by what he had seen on the road: “In Liverpool, all the shops were shuttered up, everything was closing down. Margaret Thatcher had apparently gone mad, she was closing down all the industries, throwing millions of people on the dole. You could see that frustration and anger in the audience. It was clear that something was very, very wrong.”

Ghost Town was powered by despair and anger, both at the state of a country in which unemployment had risen by nearly a million in 12 months, and by 82% among ethnic minorities – “government leaving the youth on the shelf, no jobs to be found in this country” – and the state of the Specials (“Bands won’t play no more / too much fighting on the dancefloor”). It was all set to deeply unsettling, doom-laden music: a loping reggae beat topped with eerie, jazz chords, stabbing horns influenced by soundtrack composer John Barry and, instead of a chorus, a harrowing wail. The band fought so much during its recording that the studio engineer threatened to throw them out. Ghost Town was eventually completed and released in late June, around the same time the Specials played a benefit show in their home town of Coventry, inspired by the racist murder of a local teenager, Satnam Gill. The NF marched through the city on the same day; rumours they were also planning to attack the gig meant one of the biggest bands in the country found themselves playing to a half-empty venue.

The day before Ghost Town reached No 1, Britain erupted. There had been riots in Brixton the previous month, sparked by a new police stop-and-search policy named Operation Swamp 81 after Margaret Thatcher’s 1978 assertion that the UK “might be rather swamped by people of a different culture”: 943 people – the vast majority of them black – were stopped by plainclothes officers in six days.

On 10 July, a second wave of rioting spread across the country: Brixton, Southall, Battersea, Dalston, Streatham and Walthamstow in London, Handsworth in Birmingham, Chapeltown in Leeds, Highfields in Leicester, and many other cities including Edinburgh, Luton, Sheffield, Portsmouth, Preston, Newcastle, Derby, Southampton, Nottingham, Wolverhampton, Stockport and Cardiff all reported “riots” of varying degrees. In the past, No 1 singles had occasionally alluded to recent events or a prevalent mood – the blissed-out ambience and dippy logic of the Summer of Love was encapsulated by Procul Harum’s A Whiter Shade of Pale and the Beatles’ All You Need Is Love; a sense of trepidation around the moon landings found a voice in David Bowie’s Space Oddity and Zager and Evans’s In the Year 2525 – but nothing before had developed the terrible currency of Ghost Town, and nor has anything since.

Backstage at Top of the Pops for their No 1-crowning performance, Hall, Staples and Golding announced they were leaving the band: the Specials effectively broke up”.

PHOTO CREDIT: Simon Dack

Originally published in 2007, UNCUT shared a piece earlier this year about Ghost Town. An extraordinary and incredible relevant track today, they got insight from “Terry Hall, Jerry Dammers and more on the final, epic single by the band’s original line-up: “It was about the state of the nation… and the state of The Specials”:

“JERRY DAMMERS (writer, organ): The song tried to link my personal feelings to the political situation. It was about the state of the nation, and the state of The Specials. And it was about being famous and going back to Coventry. That song was my sad farewell to Coventry, because becoming a pop star had made it unliveable in for me. I suppose I was depressed. It seemed like things that I’d dreamed of from the age of 10 were falling apart. I’d split up with my girlfriend of eight years. I think everyone in the band felt lost.

There was a feeling of dread. But “International Jet Set” had been about how weird it is to be in a pop group, and I’d realised the public don’t want to know. So I mixed it with the political. Because that feeling of dread was also in the country. The thing that stuck in my mind was before a Glasgow gig, which is where I got the original idea for “Ghost Town”. There were very old people out on the street, selling cups and saucers from their houses. I’d never ever seen that before, or since. And in Liverpool, all the shops had cast-iron shutters. I guess it’s commonplace now. But something had changed.

I’d been writing “Ghost Town” for nine months. It was a roots reggae song, and I’d heard “At The Club” [by Victor Romero Evans], produced by John Collins. It was really quirky, dub with a drum-machine. I brought John in because my control of the situation was evaporating. He did a fantastic job. He turned it into a pop song.

When we went into the studio, The Specials were in a worse state than even I knew. There was a rebellion against me directing the music. Roddy was… mad, basically, trying to kick holes in the control room. Neville turned on me. Also, we used a diminished chord, which is never used in reggae. In the Middle Ages, that was regarded as the devil’s chord [devil’s interval], and people were hung for playing it. So to Lynval particularly, it felt alien. He kept saying, “It sounds wrong! Why are you doing this?” There was a lot of ganja smoked, a lot of drink drunk, which added to the paranoia.

The riots happening as the record went to No 1 was uncanny. They were caused by Thatcher’s policies. The record probably fanned the flames. A lot of rock bands have sung about a revolution. We actually had one. When someone got killed in the riots, I felt terrible. There was that scary thing, the Jamaican thing about the killer tune – powerful part of reggae.

Terry Hall (vocals): I was leaving the band anyway. That was laid out, that the three of us were going. But we wanted to see “Ghost Town” through. From the initial meeting with Jerry, when he played me “At The Club”, I just thought this one idea was brilliant, and we’ve got to do it. But “Ghost Town” was the tip of a mountain of other stuff. It had to stop.

I don’t think we ever arrived at the studio as a seven-piece. We couldn’t be there at the same time without arguing. The others wanted input into what we did, but it wasn’t allowed. I was cool with that, because it was Jerry’s band. And what he needed was this beautiful mouthpiece. The music was great. My problems with Jerry were political. We had different roots, hearts in different places. If you’re middle class, admit that’s where you’re from.

“Ghost Town”’s lyrics were so simple. The middle-eight talked about the “boom town” when Coventry was factory heaven, until the early ’70s. Pretty much all my family worked in car factories. Then all of that stopped, and you watched people die off, one by one. You could name any city. But when I sang it, it was about Coventry.

For me The Specials was like a really brilliant film about a band, attempting to escape Coventry, and take on the world. And we failed miserably on the outskirts of Coventry. Because even in London, it wasn’t the same. “Ghost Town” took us back to Coventry. It was about the decline of the city, and The Specials.

“Ghost Town” getting to No 1 changed very little, if anything, socially. It didn’t change anything for the band. Doing it on Top Of The Pops, I had a walking stick, and I thought, ‘If one of ’em comes near, I’m gonna twat ’em!’ There were fist-fights in the dressing room. The three of us went in afterwards and told Jerry, “We’re out.” That was 1981, now it’s 2007. He still asks me why we left The Specials. Haven’t got a fucking clue, mate, do you know what I mean? I haven’t got a clue, mate, or do you really want to get into it?“.

There are a couple of other features I want to cover off. Steve Pafford marked forty years of Ghost Town in 2021. Whilst Britain was aflame and in the grip of violence and division in the summer of 1981, “Coventry ska miscreants The Specials captured the mood of the country with the ominous sound of one 45 which turned out to be their swan song. An ’80s summertime special and a half, this is Ghost Town”:

“No better band was positioned to epitomise these trying times in a single song. With a mix of black and white members, The Specials encapsulated Britain’s burgeoning multiculturalism. They were an integrated and socially-conscious group with deep respect and knowledge of ska, the music style that originated in 1950s Jamaica, a precursor to reggae. But ska alone was too tame a style for that moment in history.

The Specials blended in just the right ingredient with their nonchalant punk attitude, a style that came to be known as two-tone, which, as 2 Tone, just happened to be the name of the record label formed by band founder, keyboard player and main composer Jerry Dammers. 2 Tone skyrocketed between 1979 and 1981 with The Specials contributing more than their fair share of hits such as Gangsters, Too Much Too Young and A Message To You, Rudy.

Ghost Town is simultaneously The Specials’ creative peak and their last shining moment. During the recording the song the band was imploding. Problems started surfacing during atour of the US in 1980 supporting The Police. Money and the old cliché of sex and drugs and rock n’ roll had a corrupting effect on the lads who up to that point travelled up and down the UK in a beat-up van and were united by a single purpose of getting the music out there.

Matters hardly improved when it became clear during the work on the second album that Jerry Dammers wanted a change in direction while the rest of the band were happy to continue with the rough punk-ska style that they excelled at. Ghost Town is a result of the music experimentation that Dammers kept pushing the band towards. Alas, it would ultimately turn out to be the band’s swan song.

At first glance, the unusual, disjointed arrangement of Ghost Town makes it an unlikely chart topper. The extensive use of the diminished chord at the beginning of the song and before the line “Do you remember the good old days before the ghost town?” plus the foreboding sound of those woozy, lurching organ chords followed by haunted, spectral woodwind punctuated by blaring brass. It was not exactly the usual fare for your typical Radio 1 listener, put it that way.

Then again maybe that was exactly what was needed during that summer of ’81. Influenced by Joe Meek’s electronic experiments on The Tornados’ 1962 hit Telstar, producer John Collins made use of the windy sound effects that announce the track, played on Transcendent 2000 synthesizer beloved of Joy Division and Thomas Dolby.

It was all set to deeply unsettling, doom-laden music: a loping reggae beat topped with eerie, jazz chords, stabbing horns influenced by James Bond soundtrack composer John Barry.

Making Ghost Town even more unusual is the clarinet-like synth part played by Jerry Dammers on a Yamaha keyboard, a vaguely middle-eastern riff that at first seems incongruous yet somehow combined with the doom-laden bass and the portentous, nightmarish vocal chant makes the sum of its parts an irresistible combination. For aficionados the full length 12″ version includes a beautiful trombone solo by Rico Rodriguez and additional Hammond organ parts, both omitted from the single edit.

At this juncture it’s easy to take Ghost Town out of context and remember it as some sort of a semi-novelty hit, especially with that almost comical Tarzan-meets-pack-of-hyanas wailing in what passes for a chorus. But with the depressed social situation of 1981 as its backdrop the utter bleakness of the record is stark and startling.

And it follows that in Ghost Town’s promotional video — aired on the 18 June episode of Top Of The Pops as a new entry at No.21 — the Coventry crew cram into a 20-year old Vauxhall Cresta and cruise some of the three “Ds” of London: the derelict, the dilapidated and the deserted corners of the capital; once industrial now gentrified locales that are probably worth an absolute fortune now.

The band marked the song’s performance debut in the Top Of The Pops studio two weeks later, on 2 July. It was a suitably downbeat episode with only Bad Manners, the more lighthearted side of the ska revival coin, in camp carnival mode doing the Can Can in a dress to counteract the doom and gloom. Ghost Town had zipped up to No.2 and was on its way to the top, although “Smiling” Terry Hall’s decision to amble around the stage supported by a walking cane remains baffling. “The nation is sick”, perhaps? No doubt it was a statement of some kind he wasn’t spelling out. Either way, The Specials were in no mood to celebrate — the band was imploding, and matters would come to a head the following week”.

In 2021, as the U.K. was in lockdown during thew COVID-19 pandemic, the eeriness that Ghost Town talked about the and the streets being empty and things being shout, chimed at a time when people could not really go out. Dylan Jones wrote for GQ about his relationship with the song and why Ghost Town is meaningful and resonates today. One that I hope gets new inspection and praise ahead of its forty-fifth anniversary on 6th June:

“And breaking that silence wasn’t just the sound of petrol bombs and broken glass, it was the sound of “Ghost Town” by the architects of the recent two-tone revolution, The Specials. Not only was this one of the most important records of the early 1980s, it remains one of the most evocative, provocative singles of all time, a prime piece of agitprop that still has the power to shock. With its melancholic wailing, its hypnotic lope, its ominous organs and “The people getting angry” chant, there is no better mirror to the societal privations of 1981, a year that often felt on the brink of collapse. It’s one of the most baleful records to ever make No1. While punk was largely a cultural insurrection, repeatedly using thematic working-class imagery – the brutalist modern tower block being the most obvious manifestation of this, a symbol of post-war progress that very quickly became a totem of social deprivation – “Ghost Town” was a direct response to the urban distress that The Specials’ leader, Jerry Dammers, saw around him. The band had already had huge success as the standard-bearers of the multiracial 2 Tone organisation (which included the likes of Madness, The Selector and The Beat) and had had hits with “Gangsters”, “A Message To You Rudy” and “Rat Race”, among others. Inspired by punk, they had their own grudges to articulate and they were doing it through the medium of ska.

“Britain was falling apart,” said Dammers. “The car industry was closing down in Coventry. We were touring, so we saw a lot of it. Glasgow were particularly bad.” In Liverpool he saw shops closing down, more beggars on the streets, little old ladies selling their cups and saucers on tables outside their homes and he started to see the frustration and anger in the young faces of those who came out to see his band. He felt that there was something very, very wrong affecting the country. “The overall sense I wanted to convey was impending doom. There were weird, diminished chords: certain members of the band resented the song and wanted the simple chords they were used to playing on the first album, It’s hard to explain how powerful it sounded. We had almost been written off and then ‘Ghost Town’ came out of the blue.”

The Specials were advocates of late-1970s postmodern ska, the inventors of two-tone and – for the briefest of times – quite simply one of the coolest, most important British bands of the post-punk period. They were a gang – five white men, two black – who dressed well, spoke sharply and didn’t look like they wanted to be messed with. In the space of just two years, from 1979 to 1981, the original Specials managed to embody the new decade’s violent energies, morals and conflicts – though always with an ironic and often sardonic detachment that kept the band cool as the 1980s grew increasingly hot. Their records defined a slice of a generation who weren’t sure they wanted to be defined in the first place. They were slightly yobby – the NME called their debut album “a speed and beer-crazed ska loon” – but they had an underlying social conscience. They would turn out to be temporal, but they left their mark in the same way The Clash did, or The Undertones, by connecting. Sure, the band were earnest, but they were studiedly sarcastic, too, which endeared them to everyone from ageing punks to their younger siblings. Not only that, but they came from Coventry, Britain’s very own answer to Detroit, the epitome of the post-war urban wasteland, the quintessential concrete jungle, and felt they had a right to bleat about anything they wanted to, especially the determined onslaught of Thatcherism.

PHOTO CREDIT: Richard Young/Shutterstock

Nineteen-eighty-one was a desperate year in the UK. Youth unemployment was rife as the country felt the bite of Thatcher’s cuts and riots were erupting all over the country, riots that appeared, with eerie synchronicity, at the same time as “Ghost Town”. It even felt like a riot, or rather how a riot felt just before it kicked off, or maybe just after it, when all the dust had settled. Dammers’ record was an apocalyptic portrait of inner-city oppression set to a loping beat offset by an unsettling and vaguely Middle Eastern motif: “Government leaving the youth on the shelf… No job to be found in this country…” The single sounded like the fairground ride from hell, a snake charmer of a song, complete with strident brass, madhouse wailing and dub-style breaks. The video was just as bleak, featuring a road trip through some of the least salubrious streets of Central London. The week after the song was released – bingo! – there were riots and civil disobedience all over the country.

The 1980s riots were devoured so much by the international media that the burning oil drum became as much a part of modern British iconography as the white suits in the 1981 television adaptation of Evelyn Waugh’s Brideshead Revisited – and for a while seemed to appear in any film about the British underclass, surrounded by a gang of Rada-trained professional cockneys and a smattering of generic gangsters, drug dealers and punky fishnets molls. To the outside world it looked as though rioting was what any youth cult worth their salt did when they’d grown tired of posing for style magazines or making bad pop records.

Living in London you certainly got the feeling you were somehow living under siege. In South London, conflict gave an edge to every transaction in a corner shop, every late-night walk home from the Underground. Walk into a Brixton pub and you felt eyes upon you. Television coverage of the riots painted them clearly as battles between residents and the police force, although what they really did was create even more racial tension between blacks and whites on the street, between neighbours of different ethnic backgrounds, between people who knew each other and of course those who didn’t. I had a friend who was chased down Gresham Road near Brixton Police Station by some of his black neighbours just because he happened to be white at the wrong time of day. He sought refuge in a (black) neighbour’s house, who promptly called out to the gang chasing him, who ran in and kicked the living daylights out of him. Police aggression made everyone paranoid, and made people who had previously lived quite happily side by side turn against each other because it seemed like the safest thing to do”.

I have probably not done full justice to Specials’ Ghost Town and its brilliance. Why it was such an important song. There are articles like this and this that I have not been able to include, but you should check them out. Incredible how The Specials themselves trying to keep it together at a time when the country was divided and there was all this air of foreboding and doom. It is such a pity that the seven original members cannot get together for another performance of this song. However, the legacy of Ghost Town is huge. The despair and depression in the lyrics reflected a public mood. A protest song, a bitter commentary on Thatcher's England and a country on its knees, I feel we will be discussing Ghost Town for decades more. Forty-five years after its release, we get to discuss a song that…

DEFINED its era.

FEATURE: Exploring John Carder Bush’s Kate: Inside the Rainbow: Rose: My Sister You Were Born…

FEATURE:

 

 

Exploring John Carder Bush’s Kate: Inside the Rainbow

ALL PHOTOS: John Carder Bush

 

Rose: My Sister You Were Born…

__________

I am not certain…

how many features it will take, though I am determined to work through as much of John Carder Bush’s Kate: Inside the Rainbow as possible; commenting on some of his observations. Unfortunately, not a lot of the photos from the book are available online, though I would urge everyone to get the book. I am picking the colours of a rainbow (red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet) and choosing different shades of these colours as titles and chapters. Even though I cannot include many photos, I will put in songs and interviews around the time. There are 288 pages, so I may have to skip some parts. Though, there is so much to uncover and investigate. I am going to include this synopsis in each feature:

“A MUST-HAVE COLLECTION OF RARE AND UNSEEN PHOTOGRAPHS OF KATE BUSH.

WITH ESSAYS BY HER BROTHER, JOHN CARDER BUSH, ABOUT KATE'S LIFE AND CAREER.

Stunning and unique images from throughout Kate Bush's career including:

Outtakes from classic album shoots and never-before-seen photographs from The Dreaming and Hounds of Love sessions

Rare candid studio shots and behind-the-scenes stills from video sets, including 'Army Dreamers' and 'Running Up that Hill'

Includes original essays from Kate's brother:

From Cathy to Kate: Describes in vibrant detail their shared childhood and the whirlwind days of Kate's career

Chasing the Shot: A vivid evocation of John's experience of photographing his sister

'For me, each of these images forms part of a golden thread that shoots through the visual tapestry of Kate's remarkable career. Storytelling has always been the heartbeat of Kate's body of work, and it has been a privilege to capture these photographic illustrations that accompany those magical tales' John Carder Bush”.

Over a decade since Kate: Inside the Rainbow was published, I do think that it is one of those books that every fan should own. Rather than quote everything in the book – as it would take a while! -, there are selections that are well worth focusing on. I am going to look at the first fifty pages or so for this first outing.

The book is so gorgeous to hold. It is a coffee table book that has this tactility. The foreword is on page nine. It gives us an insight into John Carder Bush’s photographic relationship with his sister. “For twenty years, I was involved with my sister’s creative career as she rode the waves of the front line of fame. During the time, the way I experienced ordinary life shifted dramatically; it seemed that there was a heightening of a certain assort of awareness that came out of this intense and unique involvement in so many aspects of music and visuals arts. Everyday life took on a new significance that was accompanied by a sense of wonder at the natural phenomena occurring around me, and from the interactions I had with other people. Rainbow, clouds, thunderstorms, sunset, dawn, snow, clusters of coincidence, synchronicity, a deep conversation with a total stranger, acts of kindness, acts of love, acts of forgiveness, all became stunning and seemingly artistic manifestations of existence”. His relationship with his sister began before her career started. Snapping her at their East Wickham Farm from when she was a young child, he obviously sensed that his sister was hugely creative and a gifted artist. Capturing her as she was young and at school, he then continued to chart her life and career almost from the start. Shooting her albums covers from 1982, the years before that did see him collaborate. Though I think his most intense bond and best photos were taken for 1985’s Hounds of Love and 1989’s The Sensual World. How he must have remembered fondly the years and decades before when he was shooting this young girl who was exploring her surroundings and being exposed to music and culture around her. He continues: “Photographs are objects from the past; as soon as you have released the shutter the images goes to the top of a stack of recollections. And, of course, the past can be as intangible as a rainbow; ill will keep changing with each person’s individual perspective”. It is interesting how John Carder Bush mentions his involvement in martial arts and how that ties into his photography.

“As the author of this book, I know the way I see those years has been considerably affected by my experiences in the martial arts, both training in and teaching them”. Martial arts could be seen as a filter. Carder Bush saying “however hard we try, we cannot truly know another person’s inner story”. -Photographers can caption and essence of the artist and some of their personality. Even so, you cannot capture everything. The truth comes from their songs and interviews. John Carder Bush’s Cathy was published first in 1986, when Kate Bush was twenty-eight. It was reprinted in 2014, which prompted a number of media interviews. Reminiscing about their childhood and time together. How his sister was always creative “1973 and 1974 were very intense creative years, with often a couple of new songs a week”. John Carder Bush, Kate Bush and Paddy Bush siblings in an Anglo-Irish family.  That Irish side pronounced and important. How they often took summer holidays in Ireland. Their Irish mother filled the house “with Celtic beauty and her singing”. This would have inspired a young Kate Bush (or Cathy, as she would have been known). The Irish side glamorous and enhancing, whereas their English side was “grey, sedate and boring”. The wild flowers and beautiful landscapes of Ireland paired to the smog and ice of England.  Skipping to page thirteen, John Carder Bush remarks how the “Anglo-Irish mishmash of influence, religions, music and dance was the emotional nest Cathy dropped into in 1958”. I can only imagine what love there was for her. They enjoyed this “hard-earned, middle-class comfort” in an old and beautiful house that was surrounded by urban development. Living in Welling, it was formerly in Kent. Now, it is in South East London, as the Greater London area has expanded into other countries. I have stood outside of East Wickham Farm and looked into an area where a very young Cathy would have wandered and completely lost herself in. I have not seen the house, though looking at early photos of her there, it seemed like this peaceful paradise! John Carder Bush remembers how, when Catherine was trying meant to be practising violin, she was much more interested in the piano.

The piano had been given to their father by Professor Aesop. “She was writing songs about anything that moved her”. Writing a song a day, pets, friends, imaginary loves and elves were fodder. Nobody suspected that her early songs and curiosity for the piano would lead to a career. As the songs grew, the family were aware of something taking shape; “the flower left to grow in its own safe surroundings was blossoming in an exotic and unique way; like a rare daffodil among orchids”. They looked forward to being invited into the piano room to hear a new song. John Carder Bush writes how his sister’s generation was the first when many parents tried to direct them into what they wanted them to be. Rather than moulding them into an image of themselves, they were more open to the child’s own course. Because of that, even though there was reluctance, her parents had mixed reactions. Robert, her father, was a musician himself and could see she had talent. Her mother, Hannah, felt differently. A “haphazard, uncertain life of the ‘wandering musician’”. Strong and independent, when Cathy left school aged sixteen to study mime and dance and work on her own music, she moved into the same house as John (or ‘Jay’) in Brockley. It was there that her debut album, The Kick Inside, came together. Fascinating how John Carder Bush notes the confidence the Bush family had. All taken unconventional directions in the mid-1970s, his sister did “about two years of karate and took two examinations in the Shotokan style”. It must have been emotional for John Carder Bush to see his sister go from Cathy/Catherine to Kate Bush. How their relationship shifted when Wuthering Heights was played on the radio. He writes how, one frosty morning when he was shooting through the stations, Wuthering Heights was playing on three different stations at the same time!

I look at some of those early photos where his young sister was sat at the piano. Her skipping and dancing in the garden or photographed in trees, under the ivy or the surroundings of East Wickham Farm. I will comment on the next chapter about Kate Bush, chasing the shot. A different shade and type of red in this rainbow. The first edition of this run is about the childhood and young years. John Carder Bush fondly admiring his sister’s confidence and determination. Her belief in her own ability. She wanted to sail the ship alone. Not be dictated to. That courage. “These days, it might not seem so remarkable because my sister, and a few other people like her, have opened the way to music greater control by the artist, whether male or female. The dominant role of the record company has severely diminished since the 1970s, when the route was the only way you could get potential music out to an audience – there was no other choice”. A great memory he has is when she was eleven, Carder Bush sent some of her poems to a poetry magazine. The edited would print them if she changed a few lines. His sister felt, if they did not like them, then she didn’t want them in the magazine. You can feel that self-confidence and belief in the early photos. A steeliness and confidence that definitely shines through. A unique artist, “her songs go deep into the human psyche, and her music is as sophisticated as that of any classical composer; they are not mere decoration to enjoy for a week and then be discarded for something else”. Before ending the foreword, John Carder Bush says people might not realise there is a connection between kyudo and photography. Both “depend on precise timing to get results”. Like a photo, when the bow is “at full draw and you are totally focused on the target, the moment you releaser the arrow is dependant on all the physical and mental conditions being just right”.

He notes that, when you are looking through the viewfinder, the decision to release the shutter is dependant “on very similar conditions coming together”. The title of the book coming into focus: “During those years inside the rainbow, these two arts became inseparable for me, and each seemed to be a way of refining the other”. I feel this gives us a greater insight into his photography talent and how he captured his sister. He casts his mind back to 2014 and Kate Bush’s residency, Before the Dawn. How he regrets not being able to take photos during the show, traditionally done during dress rehearsal. He drove into the English countryside which was the production base for Before the Dawn. He was going to be filmed reciting the poem he wrote for Jog of Life from The Ninth Wave. In the back of his car, he had four kyudo longbows. After performing the poem, he crossed across the rehearsal hall and was there as a sensei of kyudo, to teach four of the cast how to use the bows in Before the Dawn. It returned to bookshops in November 2014. It must have been hugely emotional working on Before the Dawn and Cathy being available. Now in her fifties, that link between the extraordinary modern artist creating this incredible live experience, and those photos of his young sister. How far she had come and how she remained this enormously original and impressive artist. Before a brief section where we see John shot by Kate and the perspective being shifted, there are a series of photos from pages twenty-one to forty-three. I will start the next edition on page fifty. I have skipped a lot of his text, though I hope what I have included gives you an insight into the special relationship he has with his sister and why he continued to photograph her. The photos that end the foreword are extraordinary.

My personal favourites are pages twenty-six, thirty-one, thirty-six, forty, and forty-two. Page twenty-six is Bush, as a young teen perhaps or slightly younger, in a hat and looking off camera. This thoughtful or slightly enigmatic look. Thirty-one is her covering her face with her left arm. There is a ring on her littler finger and we can see her right eye. These photos are in black-and-white, though you can feel this magnetism and warmth. The playfulness and relaxed spirit. How comfortable Kate (Catherine) Bush was with her brother. Thirty-six is another great photo, where Bush is looking straight to camera. I think this one was shot in the 1970s and she has her right knee bent up. The expression and the beauty of her eyes. You get so much soul coming through in this image! Forty is a rare – not in a bad way – example of his young sister smiling. She is beaming as she is under a bush or part of the garden. Pulling together a tweed or wool blazer, she looks radiant and completely entranced in the photo. Page forty-two again shows her with a leg bent. Her left leg being bent to her chin as she sits in a beret I think, with her hands clasped together, as she rests her chin on her hands. Almost like a fashion model, John Carder Bush managed to captured this beautiful moment. Even that young, we get this variety of shots that show different sides to a prodigious and wonderful girl and young woman. A period where Cathy would become Kate. In the next edition, as I explore another shade of red – before moving to other colours -, we get to look at the earliest stages of her professional career. From the garden and familiarity of East Wickham Farm and her childhood, this was now a young woman. This chapter comes before the one about Never for Ever. A more general look at capturing the shots and some of John Carder Bush’s memories. The foreword and those early memories a really powerful opening to the book. A major reason why you should buy Kate: Inside the Rainbow and see these photos up close. Not only do we learn more about Kate Bush and how this talent and confidence was instilled at a young age, you get to see that early bond between brother and sister. One that would endure throughout her career. A fascinating glimpse…

INSIDE he rainbow.

FEATURE: Tonight’s the Night of the Flight: Kate Bush and a Turbulent British Summer in 1981

FEATURE:

 

 

Tonight’s the Night of the Flight

IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush in 1981/PHOTO CREDIT: Janette Beckman

 

Kate Bush and a Turbulent British Summer in 1981

__________

I have looked inside…

IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush in 1981/PHOTO CREDIT: Clive Arrowsmith

Kate Bush’s 1981. Rather than discuss the entire year, I do want to focus on the summer of 1981 and events later in the year. In the spring, in May 1981 Kate Bush was fully immersed in recording The Dreaming. As we can see from this timeline, May was quite an important month: “Kate goes into Townhouse Studio with Hugh Padgham as engineer to begin the recording work of The Dreaming album. The backing tracks for three songs are put down before Nick Launay takes over as engineer. In a session that lasts until the end of June more backing tracks are laid. Kate is tempted by the offer for her to play the Wicked Witch in the Children's TV series Worzel Gummidge, but she is already too far involved in the album and has to turn down the offer”. I have brought in this snippet in for a recent feature, but I did want to stay in 1981. It is nearly forty-five years since race riots in Toxteth. Rather than look at the whole year, I will focus on the summer and where she was when recording The Dreaming. I am going to end on an interview that is worth re-exploring. In July 1981, there was civil disturbance in Toxteth, inner-city Liverpool, which arose in part from long-standing tensions between the local police and the Black community. I think that the summer of 1981 was a very rocky and turbulent one in the U.K. Social unrest and with riots happening and there being this sense of disruption and disorder in the air, it must have been a horrible time. Some artists reacted to the riots and what the realities were. The Specials’ Ghost Town was released in June 1981. Exploring themes of urban decay, deindustrialisation, unemployment and violence in inner cities, Ghost Town was a hit around the time riots were incurring in the U.K.

Thinking about Kate Bush, the summer of 1981 was one where she was tucked away in the studio. By May 1981, sessions for The Dreaming decamped to Townhouse Studios. I am looking inside Graeme Thomson’s Under the Ivy: The Life and Music of Kate Bush. Most of The Dreaming's backing tracks were recorded here over a period of three months. Bush played Fairlight CMI and piano on almost every song. David Gilmour added backing vocals. Del Palmer or Jimmy Bain on bass. Preston Haeyman and Stuart Elliott on drums. It weas, as Thomson notes, “an album defined by painterly overdubs”. As there was this turmoil and crisis happening in Britain, one of the country’s greatest artists was constructing an album. I had never considered whether the darkness and division that was seeping Britain in 1981 affected the tone and direction of The Dreaming. Bush saying that she was not a political artist and was holed up recording. She would have seen the news and heard about the riots. However, little of that is specifically channelled into songs. Even so, there is a thickness and smog. A haunting and heavy aspect to The Dreaming which may have come from the atmosphere around her. There was violence in London so, even if she was in studios out of the way, she was not too far from a lot of this violence. Sat in Your Lap was released on 21st June, 1981. Nick Launy came in as engineer after Hugh Padgham departed. The two had different ideas and directions. Padgham didn’t have a great experience. He tried to explain to Bush that if you have loads of layers of vocals and sounds then it hard to hear things. Perhaps feeling she was not that experienced or knowing what she was doing, he was glad to hand over the reins. Launy was twenty and Bush twenty-two. They both clicked and it was a much smoother working relationship. What is evident about the summer of 1981 in terms of Kate Bush’s career was that she was still growing as a producer. There were a lot of takes and musicians doing the same parts over and over.

It may have seemed like one big noise. More refined or at least a little more stripped for Hounds of Love in 1985, The Dreaming was an album where Kate Bush put so many ideas into the pot. Musicians like Ian Bairnson (who played on Sat on Your Lap and Leave It Open) recalled how Bush was thinking more as a producer and using all these unusual sounds. July 1981 was an especially important month. Kate goes into Abbey Road studios with Haydn Bendall as engineer to complete the backing tracks. Bush travels to Dublin to record the track Night of the Swallow with members of Planxty and The Chieftains. I did cover this in the other feature. Again, with unrest happening in the U.K., Bush was working on one of her greatest tracks. Night of the Swallow is perhaps the most extraordinary and accomplished song on The Dreaminmg. At one point recording the songs, musicians utilised all three of Abbey Road’s studios. It was a hectic and productive time. I think about the sense of this division and violence. Margaret Thartcher had only been Prime Minister for a couple of years. Kate Bush not really a political writer, she channelled her emotions and energies into songs that did have some bite and violence within. Maybe Pull Out the Pin is the closest example we get to a song that absorbs some of the U.K. riots. Though this song was set during the Vietnam War rather than the U.K. in 1981. You can see that a negativity or blackness lingering like storm clouds did impact The Dreaming. Even so, in the summer of 1981, she did record songs with so much beauty in them. Night of the Swallow is a classic example. At times, Bush struggled to keep track of what was being recorded. Becoming “lost in the in the woods of her own imagination” as Graeme Thomson writes, she was very stoic and took control. Leading up to Christmas 1981, Bush worked at home and changed lyrics, adding this and that, working on backing vocals and getting things into shape.

That summer must have been quite intense for everyone. Riots in July in Toxteth (Liverpool), Handsworth (Birmingham), Moss Side (Manchester), and Chapeltown (Leeds). Kate Bush, at the time, might have seemed a little blasé or rose above it. You know that it was affecting her or subconsciously influencing the direction of some of the tracks through The Dreaming. Night of the Swallow stands as this moment of beauty and wonder on The Dreaming. Not the only example, though it is one of Kate Bush’s greatest examples of her brilliance as a songwriter and producer. This is what she said to Melody Maker in October 1982 about Night of the Swallow:

“Unfortunately a lot of men do begin to feel very trapped in their relationships and I think, in some situations, it is because the female is so scared, perhaps of her insecurity, that she needs to hang onto him completely. In this song she wants to control him and because he wants to do something that she doesn’t want him to she feels that he is going away. It’s almost on a parallel with the mother and son relationship where there is the same female feeling of not wanting the young child to move away from the nest. Of course, from the guys point of view, because she doesn’t want him to go, the urge to go is even stronger. For him, it’s not so much a job as a challenge; a chance to do something risky and exciting. But although that woman’s very much a stereotype I think she still exists today”.

I am going to end with an interview that she gave to Record Mirror in 1981. Following my feature on 1981 and why it was this important period between Never for Ever (her third studio album was released in September 1980) and The Dreaming, it occurred that the summer of 1981 was a hostile and unsettled one in the U.K. Bush did say, in her piece for the KBC Issue 10 (Summer 1981): “I've been lucky enough to be tucked away in the studio through all the riots, and only catching the muggy weather in between sounds. I hope everything has been good for you during this summerless time. We all know that "things they are a-changing”.

Late in 1981, Bush did get a chance to relax a bit. Or at least find some sense of order and perspective. The summer of 1981 was especially busy and important. In terms of some of the songs she recorded and the stage she was at with The Dreaming. John Shearlaw spoke to Kate Bush for Record Mirror. The interview was published in September 1981. After a period of depression and drain following The Tour of Life in 1979 and recording Never for Ever, she was feeling more positive. Quite refreshing considering everything happening around her. Not only the riots that happened through the summer. Bush was also throwing herself into the album, and it must have been exhausting at times:

“My life has never been into money, more into emotional desires; like being an incredible singer or an incredible dancer; and if I can buy something that can help me, I will now. But I wouldn't buy something that I couldn't live with, like a country house which I don't need. [Actually, about two years after giving this interview, Kate bought--a country house.] I'd rather buy a huge synthesiser that I could live with all day."

She emphasises and explains, thinks out the question, returns to her theme. The easy answers have gone over the years. Take her career...

Kate maintains that there hasn't really been a gap, even though she admits that Sat In Your Lap only surfaced after her longest break to date.

"My slowness at doing things surprises me," she says, "but i have been doing things continuously. It's a battle to keep up with all the things I want to do, and obviously things like dancing are going to suffer. I couldn't spend twelve hours a day in a studio like I'm doing at the moment, and dance, as well."

Again the emphasis on her way of working--the only way. The ups and downs are of her own making, they don't follow rules. And Kate only bows to her own pressures.

"The last album was the first one that I would actually hand over to people with a smile," she says, almost seeming to imply that it was the first one she was actually pleased with, "and that was followed by a greater period of non-creativity, when I just couldn't write properly at all.

"It happened before, when the tour was over, and then I felt I'd just given so much out that I was like a drained battery, very physically and tired and also a bit depressed.

"This time it was worse; a sort of terrible introverted depression. The anti-climax after all the work really set in in a bad way, and that can be very damaging to an artist. I could sit down at the piano and want to write, and nothing would happen. It was like complete introspection time.

"I suppose I had about two months out earlier this year...and that was a break I really needed. It gave me time to see friends, do things I hadn't been able to do for three years.

"It wasn't really as if I was missing out on normality," she laughs. "I'd rather hang on to madness than normality anyway, so it was more like recharging."

But something more came out of it than just a rest?

"Oh yes!" The smile returns. "I felt as if my writing needed some kind of shock, and I think I've found one for myself. The single is the start, and I'm trying to be brave about the rest of it. It's almost as if I'm going for commercial-type "hits" for the whole album.

[I have always been struck by this statement. It seems to me to indicate that Kate really doesn't have a very sound notion of what is "commercial"--which is all to the good, of course. For if she felt that The Dreaming had a commercial sound, then some listeners's criticism that she seemed to have developed a calculatedly commercial sound for the next album, Hounds of Love, loses credence, since her mental image of "commercial" sound is so different from the sound of Hounds of Love.]

"I want it to be experimental and quite cinematic, if that doesn't sound too arrogant. Never For Ever was slightly cinematic, so I'll just have to go all the way."

The shock that Kate refers to, eyes almost ablaze as she uses the word, came months ago...after she started to work with a rhythm machine while she was writing.

"I'm sure lots of things that I'm trying to do won't work," she says, "but I found that the main problem was the rhythm section. The piano, which is what I was used to writing with, is so far removed from the drums. So I tried writing with the rhythm rather than the tune."

Sat In Your Lap, naturally, is the first fruit of the new approach--original (in that it could only be Kate Bush) marriage of pounding drum sounds and two layers of voice. There is a theme, but it's the rhythm that hits you first, blasting right through to the synthesised end--a step that she knows is likely to continue the critical division.

"I was really frightened about the single for a while," she admits. "I mixed the song and played it to people, and there was complete silence afterwards, or else people would say they liked it to me and perhaps go away and say what they really thought.

"Of course it's really worrying, because there's an assumption that if you're one of us, an artist, you don't need feedback at all, when in fact you need it as much as ever, if not more. I really appreciate feedback, and I'm lucky that the people closest to me, my friends and family, are used to me and realise that I've got my own 'bowl of feedback' to rely on."

And that's more important than the public reaction, or do you worry?

"There will always be some who are irritated by me. I seem to irritate a lot of people," she smiles, "and in a way that's quite a good thing."

Nor will the change stop there. Drums, Kate enthuses, are as wide a concept as music itself, and she's determined to go further than "a lazy acceptance of a drum kit." Add that to the news that she'll be working with other musicians on the new album--"the best around"--and it seems likely that "Kate Bush 4" will be one of the big surprises of the year.

As a preview she plays me one track that's currently being worked on: a wild soaring collusion with Irish group Planxty entitled Night of the Swallow, which also features one of the Chieftains. Again the sound is unmistakable, but this time it's Kate Bush married to the heartbeat of traditional Irish folk.

Discussing the project brings Kate Bush into larger-than-life focus once more. The burning enthusiasm returns, along with the string of "amazings", "incredibles" and "fantastics". She'd been up all night in the studio the previous night in Dublin, and her reactions are genuine, real and hard to resist.

"I'm still really up from the experience," she says. "In fact, I'm still reeling from it. I asked them if they'd be interested, and the whole thing was so relaxed, it was wonderful. I badly want to work with them again. I'm so excited about the fusion.

"And I think that there's so much of the Irish in my mother that it all suddenly came back to me--it was fate rearing its head at just the right time!"

So that's two surprises already, and although Kate has been making demo tracks since March, and Abbey Road is now her second home, the rest will have to wait until summer completion...if all goes according to plan.

What about the book you're planning to write, though? Again, she sighs (a marginal sigh) and repeats her line: "There's so many things I want to do, and it's so hard to fit them all in..."

But yes, a book is on the cards, hopefully before the end of the year, and she says: "I'd like to write it myself. Without saying anything about the other books, which I don't want to, I feel almost pressured to speak, otherwise there's this huge misrepresented area.

"In one way it's ridiculous--I feel it's much too early to write a book, I've hardly done anything yet. But I really want people to be aware of reality--subjective reality, obviously.

"It'd be about what it's like being me, my feelings, my friends, the people that I rely on. I need to be represented in a positive way, and I'll have to do it myself."

[This book, tentatively titled Leaving My Tracks, was shelved in 1984.]

Slowly Abbey Road is beginning to wake up for another Kate Bush day that is likely to last until the early hours of the next morning, and she announces candidly: "I'm beginning to feel like shit. Ireland's catching up on me. And all the things that have to be done. It's impossible to do it all in the time...perhaps if I could stop sleeping it would help."

But she doesn't really believe it, even if she does wonder if transcendental meditation does help you to relax enough to cut down on those "very wonderful" hours of sleep. No, she decides, it's work as usual.

Twenty-two years old, a Tour of Life and three albums behind her...and the rest can wait. Treading devastatingly and surely between the doubters and the devotees, Kate Bush may well continue to "amaze" us all”.

Forty-five years since riots broke out across the U.K., I did want to see where Kate Bush in terms of her career. She did feel unsettled by what she saw, though she was focusing on recording and making her fourth album. People have not commented before. I do feel that some of the mood and turmoil that was on the news and on the streets did find their way into The Dreaming. The claustrophobia and tension. If Night of the Swallow suggests otherwise, listening to tracks like Get Out of My House and a sense of regret in All the Love. I will write about her 1981 at some point in the future, though I wanted to add to my previous feature. Look back forty-five years. 1982’s The Dreaming remains this…

EXTRAORDINARY creation.

FEATURE: Groovelines: Run-D.M.C. (with Aerosmith) - Walk This Way

FEATURE:

 

 

Groovelines

 

Run-D.M.C. (with Aerosmith) - Walk This Way

__________

I am spending some time…

with a song that turns forty on 4th July. I did first cover this song from Groovelines in 2021, though I feel it is worth coming back to it. Walk This Way unified Hip-Hop and Rock. Originally recorded by Aerosmith for their 1975 album, Toys in the Attics, it was included in Run-D.M.C.’s 1986 masterpiece, Raising Hell. Featuring Aerosmith’s Steven Tyler on vocals and Joe Perry on guitars, it was an amazing collaborations that arguably saved Aerosmith. In terms of their reputation and how they were in a slump by 1986. The second single from Raising Hell, Walk This Way was produced by Russell Simmons and Rick Rubin. Run-D.M.C. did not want the song to be released as a single and were shocked when it was and it became such a huge success. Rick Rubin also was surprised it was a single. Walk This Way peaked  at number four in the U.S., becoming Run-D.M.C.'s biggest hit. It was also the first hip hop single to reach the top five on the Billboard charts,. It reached number eight in the U.K. Ahead of its fortieth anniversary, I want to explore this phenomenal crossover single. One that united a very cool and influential Hip-Hop group with a Rock band who had perhaps become a little stale by the time their 1975 song was revitalised and repurposed. I do want to come to some features around Walk This Way. I think it is a perfect blend of Aerosmith’s original inspiration with the spark and energy that Run-D.M.C. inject. Making a great song into something epic and timeless. In 2023, Classic Rock went inside Walk This Way. Rick Rubin had to talk Run-D.M.C. into recording it. The song became a hit, and the rest is history:

“The beginning of the now-classic video for Run-DMC’s version of Walk This Way begins with the Hollis, Queens rap trio (MCs Run and DMC plus DJ Jam Master Jay) trying to drown out a band rehearsing next door – Aerosmith’s Steven Tyler and Joe Perry. Each faction cranks up the volume, until Tyler smashes a hole in the wall with his bandana-strewn mic stand – then, a ‘duet’ between both groups ensues. The video also serves as a metaphor for how separated rock and rap were at the time.

By the mid-80s, Aerosmith were a shadow of their former self. After 1985’s unfocused reunion album Done With Mirrors failed to recapture the group’s earlier glories – coupled with its members’ ongoing drug problems – it seemed like Aerosmith’s chart-dominating days were over. On the other hand, Run-DMC were a group on the rise – their first two albums [1984’s Run-DMC and 1985’s King Of Rock] helped put rap on the map and, as evidenced by both the title track of King Of Rock and Rock Box, the seeds for a rap-rock hybrid were sown.

It didn’t truly together until sessions began for Run-DMC’s third album, Raising Hell, in early 1986. when Jam Master Jay and DMC resuscitated a sample from their early days.

“Before rap records were made, we used to have to find beats to rap over, and Walk This Way was one of our favourites,” recalls DMC [real name Darryl McDaniels]. “There’s something about Walk This Way – when the DJ threw that on, the beat was so cool, the way those guitars came in. And then the DJ would cut it back to the start of the beat.”

“We were in the studio one day looping the beat and [producer] Rick Rubin walks in. He’s like, ‘Yo, do you know what that is?’. And me and Jay were like, ‘Yeah, that’s Toys In The Attic’. We didn’t know the group – we just went off with what was on the cover. He was like, ‘This is Aerosmith, Walk This Way’ – he was giving us the 411 on Aerosmith.”

When Rubin suggested Run-DMC re-do the song, DMC remembers resistance. “Me and Run were like, ‘You’re taking this rock-rap shit too far – you’re going to ruin us. That’s going to be fake, nobody in hip-hop is going to like it’. But he persuaded me and Jay to sit down and listen to the lyrics, so we put the needle on the record. When Steven Tyler opened his mouth, we got on the phone: ‘Y’all motherfuckers – we’re going to be ruined!’. We had this big argument.”

What Run-DMC didn’t know was Rubin had already asked Perry and Tyler to drop by Magic Ventures Studios in NYC.

“We went into the studio and laid down a weak version – because we didn’t want to do the record – and left. Eight hours later, we get a call to come back to the studio. We walk in and Joe Perry is playing his riff, Steven Tyler is in the booth doing the lyrics. Me and Run knew we had to step our game up. Jay was like, ‘Yo, don’t think of the record as “Steven Tyler and Joe Perry’s record”, think of those lyrics as Run-DMC lyrics’. So we went in the booth and that went so good that Steven said, ‘Yo, let me get in with y’all’.”

In the 1997 book Walk This Way: The Autobiography Of Aerosmith, the band’s then-manager, Tim Collins, admits not knowing what rap was when Rubin first suggested the session – but agreed when offered $8,000 for a day’s studio work.

Perry added, “I didn’t know what was gonna happen when I walked into the studio. I thought they’d show us ideas on how to rearrange the song, but all they had was a drum track.”

DMC recalls his first impressions of the Aero-duo. “Steven was very friendly and Joe Perry didn’t say one word. He’d nod at you, go over and play the guitar, finish his riff. ‘Are you ready to play?’. He’d shake his head yes. But Steve was just very friendly and inquisitive, like, ‘Wow, do the DJ thing Jay – show me how to DJ’. He was like a little kid – excited and enthused.”

In the Walk This Way… autobiography, Tyler reflected on the sessions. “Run and D and Jay were huddled in a corner, really intent on something. I go, ‘Joe, what are they doing?’. ‘Probably smoking crack’, he says. Later we went over to the corner. They’d been eating lunch from McDonald’s.”

As soon as Run-DMC began playing their version of Walk This Way, DMC knew they were on to something. “Everybody flipped out. Me and Run were so puzzled, because the reaction was overwhelming. We didn’t think it was going to be a big hit, but people were loving it.”

Soon after, the video was filmed, which MTV aired throughout the summer of 1986. Raising Hell was soon a smash, peaking at No.6 on the US album chart, while Walk This Way hit No.4 on the US singles chart. Aerosmith may have benefited more from the success – they soon kicked their addictions and enjoyed a hugely successful comeback”.

I will move to The Guardian and their 2016 feature. Making thirty years of Walk This Way, they told the story of one of the standout songs of the 1980s. Before Walk This Way, I am not sure whether Hip-Hop and Rock had been fused. Maybe a risk bringing Aerosmith and Run-D.M.C. together, the interaction and blend is perfect. No wonder it was so popular when it arrived in 1986:

“Not that hip-hop had always been an easy sell. The rap records that reached radio listeners in the early years had a tendency, ever since the Sugarhill Gang’s breakthrough, Rapper’s Delight, to exude a novelty flavour, while turntablism, in real life the beating heart of the culture, tended to manifest itself only as a cheesy wikki-wikki add-on. And then there were the clothes. Oh dear God, the clothes. Seek out the extraordinary footage of Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five on Channel 4’s The Tube performing The Message, its pioneering gritty street-level content undermined by their superfly sci-fi costumes, which looked like they’d been raided from George Clinton’s tour bus seven years earlier.

The reputation of the entire genre was rescued by Run-DMC who, in the words of British writer Neil Kulkarni in The Periodic Table of Hip Hop, “made everything that had happened before them sound old-fashioned, too slick and smarmy”. The trio had roots in that clunky prehistory: Run (Joseph Simmons), the teenage brother of Russell Simmons, had previously DJed for Kurtis Blow, before forming his own band, originally called Orange Crush, with DMC (Darryl McDaniels) and DJ Jam Master Jay (Jason Mizell). But everything changed in 1983 when the trio, renamed Run-DMC and still in their teens, released their debut single, It’s Like That, on Profile. That track – brutally blunt by the standards of the time – and its rival-dissing flipside, Sucker MCs, blew up on rap radio and changed the game for good. “Ultimately it took Run-DMC, with their black leather, sweats, homburgs and in-your-face attitude, to crystallise the image of toughness into rap chic,” wrote SH Fernando Jr in hip-hop history The New Beats. “Their attitude, like their beats, was hard. Their dress, unlike the extravagant leather, sequin and feather outfits of most rap acts at the time, reflected a street aesthetic to which the average b-boy on the corner could relate.”

Aerosmith, meanwhile, were in a slump. Album sales had steadily declined since their 70s peak, the band’s key members were ravaged by various addictions, and they hadn’t had a Billboard top 10 single since the original Walk This Way, a decade earlier. The song had first been recorded for the band’s Toys in the Attic album, and was born on tour when singer Steven Tyler, who had been listening to the Meters and James Brown, asked drummer Joey Kramer to lay down something with a little funk to it. (Run-DMC, therefore, were not so much appropriating Aerosmith’s groove for black culture as reclaiming it.) Guitarist Joe Perry added a simple but effective hook, and Tyler came up with a lewd loss-of-innocence lyric about a schoolboy getting caught masturbating by his father, who instructs him in the ways of seduction.

When it was time to record the track at New York’s Record Plant studio, it still needed a title and a chorus. Inspiration finally came to them when they took a break to walk a few blocks to Times Square to catch a movie. The film was Mel Brooks’s comedy Young Frankenstein, in which Marty Feldman’s Igor lurches and limps down some stone steps, then instructs Gene Wilder, playing the title role, to “walk this way”. In a classic sight gag, Wilder does exactly that.

By the time the Run-DMC/Aerosmith collaboration was mooted, Jam Master Jay had already been cutting Walk This Way back and forth between his decks for years, and Run had been rapping over it since he was 12. They weren’t the first act, though, to attempt a rap-rock hybrid. The Beastie Boys’ AC/DC-sampling Rock Hard and LL Cool J’s Rock the Bells – both Rick Rubin productions – had already walked that way, and Run-DMC themselves had released several trial runs, notably the Russell Simmons-produced Rock Box and the provocatively titled King of Rock, both featuring chunky riffing from session guitarist Eddie Martinez.

When Collins relayed Rubin’s offer to Tyler and Perry, they were initially sceptical, but went along to Magic Ventures studio in Manhattan on 9 March 1986 for the rate of $8,000 a day. And a day is all it took: Run-DMC had a rental car that was overdue for return, and needed to work fast. As Tyler recalled in Walk This Way: The Autobiography of Aerosmith, “Run and D and Jay were huddled in a corner, really intent on something. I go, ‘Joe, what are they doing?’ He says, ‘Probably smoking crack.’ Later we went over to the corner. They’d been eating lunch from McDonald’s.”

What Rick Rubin created with that day’s work still stands as an immortal party anthem, as liable to spark outbreaks of air-scratching as air-guitar among drunks unable to decide whether they want to be Jay or Joe as they lurched around (an ability to dance was optional for the enjoyment of Walk This Way). Tyler’s rapid-fire vocal was too slang-packed to be completely decipherable to British ears, but the bits about “feet flying up in the air”, a “kitty in the middle” and being “down on the muffin” left little doubt that it was thinly veiled filth.

And the video was one of the most literal in a decade not short of contenders. The two bands – the sleazy old rock slags and the box-fresh rap crew – are rehearsing in adjacent rooms and engaged in a loudness war, but join forces when Tyler literally smashes down the wall between the two rooms/races/genres, and the two groups storm a theatre stage to the delight of screaming fans. The clip instantly took Run-DMC into the MTV mainstream (the channel showed it twice an hour).

But which half of the hook-up were the real winners from Walk This Way? Who was doing a favour for whom? Rick Rubin had sold Aerosmith the idea as “a great crossover opportunity for both groups”, and so it proved. The received narrative is that the song broke Run-DMC and, by extension, rap, legitimising the genre in the eyes of white listeners, just as Eddie Van Halen’s solo on Beat It had done for Michael Jackson and black pop. It’s true that the single became the first rap single on Billboard’s Top 10 (peaking at No 4), that its parent album, Raising Hell, became rap’s first platinum LP, and that Run-DMC became the first rap act on the cover of Rolling Stone”.

I am going to end with a review of the supreme Walk This Way. The Mix Review provided their take on a song that has endured through the decades. Forty years after its release, Walk This Way still sounds so exciting and fresh. You can play it multiple times and never tire of its brilliance. I remember first hearing this song in the 1990s. I was enthralled. I still get a rush when I hear it played now:

“A pioneering collaboration between Run-DMC and Aerosmith under the auspices of production guru Rick Rubin, this not only catapulted the rap-rock sub-genre into the mainstream, but also helped launch the career of one of the all-time great mix engineers, Andy Wallace. Despite the heavy gated (or sample-triggered?) snare ambience, what impresses me is how aggressive and upfront this production sounds. That might seem nothing special these days, when we’re so used to super-dry and present mixes, but in 1986 Rocky IV, Karate Kid II and Top Gun had saturated the airwaves with lushly reverb-tastic offerings like Survivor’s ‘Burning Heart’, Peter Cetera’s ‘Glory Of Love’, and Berlin’s ‘Take My Breath Away’. In that context, ‘Walk This Way’ must have felt like a bolt from the blue!

It’s also easy to underestimate the production’s complexity. Yes, there are plenty of big, bold elements in there: the merciless sampled drums, the guitar riffs and the alternation between Run-DMC’s rapped verses and Steven Tyler’s sung choruses. But the closer you listen, the more nuances emerge. For instance, this production might appear to have no bass part (and the strong ‘C’ pitch to the kick sample potentially obviates the need much of the time), but there’s something sneakily sidling in at 0:26 to underpin the first verse. It can also be detected in the choruses, where its rhythm deviates from that of the guitar. (If you can’t hear what I’m talking about, low-pass filter the mix at 100Hz and it’ll become more clearly audible.)

The way the verse is developed throughout the production is cool. The second verse, for instance, adds live ride-cymbal overdubs, a lead-guitar fill at 1:02, and Tyler’s pitched call-and-response contributions on phrases such as “kitty in the middle” (1:00) and “ready to play” (1:06). Then, after the third verse has stripped things back to a loop from Aerosmith’s original 1975 release (a nice touch!), Tyler joins the rapper in an equal lead role all through verse four. In fact, despite strong competition from the samples, riffs and raps, Tyler totally steals the show with his hook line. Not only is it extraordinarily high (high Bb and the Eb above it), but the tone is so gloriously filthy and distorted that it merges seamlessly with the guitar timbre to create something more than the sum of its parts. So striking is this timbre, in fact, that I don’t feel in the least short-changed despite there being, unusually, only two such hook sections in the entire song”.

A simply extraordinary song that turns forty on 4th July, Run-D.M.C. thought Walk This Way would ruin them. Picking up on the Classic Rock feature, the group cannot argue against what its legacy is: “DMC can see what the song accomplished. “People tell me it’s the greatest rap record ever made and the greatest video. VH-1 did the ‘Top 50 Videos Of All-Time’ – we were No.1. It was about bringing generations of music together, which is what music is supposed to do – evolution and unity”. When you think about Walk This Way in those terms, few records have…

LEFT such a legacy.

FEATURE: Groovelines: Paul Simon - You Can Call Me Al

FEATURE:

 

 

Groovelines

IN THIS PHOTO: Paul Simon in London, 1986/PHOTO CREDIT: Michael Putland/Getty Images

 

Paul Simon - You Can Call Me Al

__________

ON 25th August…

we mark forty years of Paul Simon’s masterpiece, Graceland. Perhaps his greatest solo album ever, it has endured to this day. I will go into it more closer to the time. However, before that, one of its defining singles turns forty. That is You Can Call me Al. There is a bit of debate around its exact release date, through several sources say July 1986. I am going to start out with a feature from American Songwriter, who tells of the real-life interaction that inspired a song that could be seen as a mid-life crisis. It is one of the standout songs from Graceland. Musically brilliant and inventive, its iconic video, with Chevy Chase appearing alongside Paul Simon, helps cement its legacy:

“We all reach a point in our lives when the aging process becomes a lot less fun than it used to be. Turning 18? A highly anticipated moment in everyone’s life. Turning any age past 25? A little less anticipated…That’s the onus behind Paul Simon’s playful take on a mid-life crises, “You Can Call Me Al.” Though the song was inspired by a specific event, Simon used his songwriting chops to give it a much wider scope than originally intended. Uncover the meaning behind this track, below.

Videos by American Songwriter

Behind the Meaning of Paul Simon’s Mid-Life Crises, “You Can Call Me Al”

A man walks down the street
He says, “Why am I soft in the middle now?
Why am I soft in the middle?
The rest of my life is so hard

I need a photo-opportunity
I want a shot at redemption
Don’t want to end up a cartoon
In a cartoon graveyard”

The opening line quickly orients the listener to the subject of this song: growing up. Why am I soft in the middle, Simon asks, not doubt prompting a knowing chuckle from many of his listeners. Like many Simon songs, his language borders on figurative, but the meaning is still easily understood. Simon struggles with growing up and aging out of a time when life seems to be easy breezy.

Despite the explicit meaning of this song concerning aging, the title was inspired by a real life event in Simon’s life. As the story goes, he attended a party and was mistaken for some man called “Al.”

The Party Behind the Song

“Fun fact, the titular line for ‘You Can Call Me Al; was inspired by an amusing misunderstanding at a party,” a post on Simon’s Facebook reads. “One evening in the early 1970s, French composer Pierre Boulez, who had just been named musical director of the New York Philharmonic, attended a party hosted by Paul and his wife. At the end of the night, Paul said goodbye to Boulez at the door, who politely responded, ‘Thank you, Al, and please give my best to Betty.’”

In the end, Simon used this miscommunication to explain the apathy that can creep into our lives as we grow older. Things that once amused us, annoyed or, or angered us fail to rouse any emotion what so ever. It’s a nuanced track with many different point of relatability for the listener. Overarchingly, it seems Simon wants someone to commiserate with about the unceasing passing of time.

Revisit this track, below.

Bone digger, bone digger
Dogs in the moonlight
Far away in my well-lit door
Mr. Beer belly, Beer belly
Get these mutts away from me
You know, I don’t find this stuff amusing anymore

If you’d be my bodyguard
I can be your long-lost pal
I can call you Betty
And Betty, when you call me
You can call me Al

A man walks down the street
He says, “Why am I short of attention?
Got a short little span of attention
And, whoa, my nights are so long
Where’s my wife and family?
What if I die here?”.

The last time that Paul Simon performed the brilliant You Can Call Me Al was on his Homeward Bound – The Farewell Tour, which concluded on 22nd September, 2018, in Queens, New York. I will come to an NME article from 2024 that tells why Simon has retired that song. Simon has recently performed some gigs and is still touring. We hope that he performs for years to come. This article from Vintage Digital goes inside You Can Call Me Al. It is not allowing me to copy the text. I would recommend you to read it, as it provides insight into this genius song. It is Graceland’s most “most playful, intricate and technically daring track”. “What sounds effortless on record was, in reality, a masterpiece of analogue/digital construction, held together by Simon’s compositional instincts and Roy Halee’s extraordinary ability to bend tape, time and technology into something new”. Roy Halee is the mixing engineer on Graceland. “Rhythm grooves cut in Johannesburg were never intended as finished songs. They were conversations, sketches and experiments, played by musicians who stood shoulder to shoulder with no headphones, feeding off each other’s energy. Halee captured it all to analogue tape with careful mic placement and minimal baffling, isolating what needed to be isolated while preserving the live spark that allowed Simon to build a song off of communal momentum. Simon later returned these tapes to New York, treating them like raw clay. He sifted, edited, lifted moments from one performance and paired them with phrases from another, shaping the song bar by bar. In the analogue world, this would be a monumental task. Halee transferred the analogue recordings to a Sony PCM-3324 digital 24-track recorder and performed dozens of edits, chasing the groove across reels and assembling the foundations of the track with meticulous, almost architectural precision. The dense instrumentation threatened to swallow the vocal whole. Halee’s solution was ingenious: he created two different tape delays, one feeding left and one feeding right, which pulled the vocal into the music without letting it disappear. Remove that delay and the entire sonic illusion collapses. With it, the track gains a rhythmic bounce and intelligibility that feels almost impossible given how crowded the mix is”. I have cut from various paragraphs, but I couldn’t get through the whole things. It gives you a flavour of the challenges faced and how brilliant intuition and inventiveness saved the song from potential disaster. You Can Call Me Al sounds so extraordinary all these years later.

I am finishing off with NME and an article from 2024. A shame that Paul Simon has had to retire one of his most beloved and acclaimed songs. Having dealt with major health conditions, including hearing loss, he has improved. Though he is not in perfect health, I do wonder if You Can Call Me Al will return to his sets soon. It would be wonderful to hear perform this classic live:

“Paul Simon has opened up about his decision to retire hit song ‘You Can Call Me Al’.

The Simon and Garfunkel singer-songwriter has grown distant from some of his most iconic songs over the years. However, of all the hits he has taken a step back from, it is ‘You Can Call Me Al’ that he has fully retired from his live shows.

It was released back in 1986 from his groundbreaking album ‘Graceland’, and soon went on to become one of the defining tracks from his solo career. According to a new interview though, the singer said the decision to move on from the song has come from necessity rather than desire.

Talking with CBS Mornings, Simon said that his battle with hearing loss has left him unable to perform like he used to, and interfered massively with his relationship with music.

“There’s only about six per cent [hearing] in my left ear,” he told the outlet, also recalling how he has been forced to use multiple monitors in order to hear properly during recent shows. “When the balance is right, I can hear well.”

He also added that the condition has forced him to be much more selective when choosing setlists. “I’m going through my repertoire and reducing a lot of the choices I make to acoustic versions,” he explained. “It’s all much quieter. It’s not ‘You Can Call Me Al.’ That’s gone. I can’t do that one”.

Ahead of the fortieth anniversary of Graceland in August, I wanted to focus on its extraordinary lead single. One of Paul Simon’s finest works, every time I hear this song, I get transported back to childhood when I first heard the song. It is such a playful and hypnotic song that makes you want to move. That is why I wanted to focus on it…

FOR this Groovelines.

FEATURE: Spotlight: Sofia and the Antoinettes

FEATURE:

 

 

Spotlight

PHOTO CREDIT: Miriam Marlene

 

Sofia and the Antoinettes

__________

IF you do not know…

who Sofia and the Antoinettes is, then I hope that this Spotlight feature opens your eyes to a truly brilliant artist. Her E.P., Leaving the House Is a Performance, was released earlier this month. I am going to get to some interviews with her. The first is from Wonderland. We get to learn some biography and background. A truly incredible artist, I feel that Sofia and the Antoinettes is going to be a major name in years to come. In terms of her commanding headline spots and touring the world with these massive shows:

“23-year-old Sofia – aka Sofia and the Antoinettes – invites me into her house, which just happens to be flat 111 of the 11th building on a street I can’t name for obvious reasons. I’m no numerologist, but that feels like a good sign: an angel number, the kind of coincidence that sets the tone before a word is spoken. Inside, she sits by the piano, golden locks perfectly in place, make-up immaculate, smoking one cigarette after another.

I am meeting her on the day her single, “Hi My Love”, drops – a song that’s sparked a genuine existential crisis. “It’s scary. It’s an old song, about two years old, but I don’t feel like I can let go of the version of myself who wrote it without it being out. It’s kind of selfish.

”Music has always been the soundtrack of her life. Born in Derbyshire, Sofia moved as a child to the sunny shores of Mallorca after her mum “couldn’t stand it there.” Her father, a devoted fan of Bob Dylan, Leonard Cohen, and The Rolling Stones, filled their home with songs that shaped her earliest memories. “I remember being eight and reading the lyrics to “Famous Blue Raincoat”, thinking, ‘Why did he take a lock of Jane’s hair?’” she recalls. When I ask when music became serious for her, she’s blunt: “It was always serious.”

In school, Sofia lived in the music department – a space where she could immerse in her practice. She began playing the piano at five and wrote her first song at 11. “I just always knew,” she says, when asked why music called to her so early. “I actually don’t know. [It was a] need. I got used to processing my emotions that way, and then I couldn’t stop.”

Back in London at 18, Sofia enrolled at Goldsmiths University, where her artist name, Sofia and the Antoinettes, was born from a mix of her tutor’s insistence she present a concept and her own desire to reflect the multiplicity of herself. One morning, having watched Sofia Coppola’s Marie Antoinette unprepared, she suggested, “What if I am Sofia and the Antoinettes?” It stuck.

From the way she smokes to the way she talks, Sofia seems born to perform. She admits to having done “one harp lesson, just so I can say I did one harp lesson,” but this isn’t a character she’s playing – it’s her, 24 hours a day. “I struggle to do things without an audience. Alone, I might do nothing for hours; with someone else, I perform.”

Naturally, she thrives in the limelight. She curated her own residency at Bar La Doña in Stoke Newington in summer 2025, followed by recently headlining BBC’s Introducing Ones to Watch night this January. Her love for performance, she says, comes from “serotonin, adrenaline, being the centre of attention, all the things you’re not supposed to say.” Her dream venue? “Carnegie Hall,” the legendary stage where artists from Tchaikovsky to The Beatles have performed.

What sets Sofia apart, however, is her love for words. In her living room, books surround me. She writes extensively, often beginning with poetry or short stories. “Writing, to me, is the most important part. When I listen to music, I hear the lyrics louder than everything else.” Tracey Emin, Joan Didion, Sylvia Plath, Eve Babitz – they reflect the honesty she strives for in her lyrics. “Here’s my diary. Everybody read it”.

Before coming to more 2026 interviews and writing, I want to go back to last year. Clunk Mag chatted with Sofia and the Antoinettes about her debut E.P., WOMEN WHO LOVE TOO MUCH. I feel it is important to briefly look back to see where she has come from. A debut E.P. that won a lot of praise, this was most people’s first taste of an extraordinary artist:

“I’m a human writing about my human experiences,” she says. Well, technically, the London storyteller didn’t actually utter any of those words out loud. She wrote them down on a piece of paper instead, almost as if I’d been offered a sneak peek into the innermost pages of her memoir.

To say that it’s a career first would simply be an understatement, however, it’s also one of the coolest ways I’ve conducted an interview in recent years. At the very least, it definitely highlights Sofia’s appreciation of her human nature – somewhat idiosyncratic and always sincere.

It’s that exact integrity that Sofia’s debut EP, ‘Women Who Love Too Much,‘ is laden with.

Inspired by Robin Norwood’s bestselling psychology book of the same title, the six-track project spans a multitude of concepts that draw inspiration from the singer-songwriter’s personal life.

Little did she know, though, that a lucky encounter would help her set the wheels in motion for what the project was eventually going to become. “I found the book in a Spanish flea market in the summer of 2022, and the title just meant something to me,” she recalls.

Sofia confesses to going through a heartbreak at the time, which meant that inspiration was getting scarce for her – “but I saw the cover of that book and paid two euros for it,” she then explains. As fate would have it, the cost was money well spent.

“I’m so happy it’s out,” she tells me. “I’ve touched on this before but this project really is a melodical edition of my diary.” Indeed, the extended play is a body-of-work that’s not only deeply introspective, but also undeniably intimate – a phenomenon that the musician herself compares to standing naked in the street. “Not all music is like that,” she clarifies. “But when it’s really personal, there’s no other way to describe it.”

The EP’s daring lead single ‘Spiralling’ opens the project with a bang, utilising sporadic acoustics to soothe the listener after powerful drumbeats catch them off-guard.

Co-written by Jon Buscema in Los Angeles, it sees Sofia study the purpose of love, or the lack thereof. “I was playing the first couple lines to him [Buscema] and, where the drums now exist, I was just attacking Jon’s poor piano trying to explain the juxtaposing aggression I wanted,” she reveals, spotlighting her collaborator’s ability to make sense of the message she was trying to embed into the song. “The words were a diary entry I’d written on a plane, nearly word for word.”

In contrast, one of the EP’s standout tracks ‘Introspection’ takes on a less startling approach to contemplation, at least production-wise. Although seemingly more disciplined, it’s in no way or shape lifeless. If anything, it absorbs you into a cinematic universe where Sofia’s the main act.

“I don’t think I know how not to dwell,” she admits. According to her, you ultimately collect an array of thoughts and emotions whenever you write things down. Fortunately, Sofia has discovered a way to repurpose her ideas through songwriting: “I think if a song makes me cry, in the car or on the train back from the studio, I’ve freed myself from these thoughts living inside me and consuming me. I’ve put them somewhere,” she says.

Speaking of mulling over the things that once were, such intricate reflection often treads a line between much-needed catharsis and something that can very quickly become a tad bit overwhelming.

While some artists draw inspiration from their personal lives, others choose to safeguard their sense of self by using artistic monikers and alter egos as shields. When it comes to Sofia, the barrier between her artistry and personal identity is non-existent. “Otherwise I would have been an actress,” she jests. That is not to say that Sofia hasn’t explored other sources of tranquility, though”

There is another interview that I want to cover off. This one is from CLASH. They spoke with Sofia and the Antoinettes the amazing sophomore E.P. Its title, Leaving the House Is a Performance nods “to the pressures of going out into the world. And so we don’t – a week prior, I’m sitting in Sofia’s bright white apartment in East London to talk through the heartaches and healing she sings about so candidly”:

“Buried In This Room’ and ‘Naked Chess’ are reworkings of the first two singles you released – how did they come to be on this record?

I see my songs as my children and these songs are all siblings, created around the same time. I released ‘Buried (In This Room)’ and ‘Matthew’ on my own as singles and then met my management and label and we moved on to ‘Women Who Love Too Much’. It always bothered me that these earlier songs weren’t in a family on Spotify. When ‘Naked Chess’ started getting popular on TikTok, everyone called it ‘Matthew’ so that’s what it was released as. Then I met my manager and he said, why should anyone say their favourite song is ‘Matthew’ when they could say their favourite song is ‘Naked Chess’? So we changed it back.

What was it like coming back to them and recording them again?

I don’t feel connected to any of the people or emotions in them anymore but I had to put myself back in it which was difficult, almost a form of self-harm. I watched a lot of old videos, read my old diaries and just tried to remember how all these things felt. I’d often end up crying outside with a cigarette before going in to record the vocals like, “I’m ready now!”. ‘Buried (In This Room)’ was the first song I wrote that I actually produced with a producer and it was a weird time. I was so sad. Releasing these songs on the EP feels like they aren’t going to be mine anymore, in a really nice way. Take them!

Something consistent across your work is the use of religious references – why is it important to you to incorporate these into your lyrics?

I write about God because I believe in her. I pray a lot – I’m always laughed at, kneeling at the end of my bed. What I ask for, I get. And when I don’t get it, I choose to believe it’s God protecting me from what I want. Like the Jenny Holzer quote, ‘protect me from what I want’… I think God and Jenny Holzer are friends.

Your songs definitely feel very confessional – does this ever feel difficult at a time where it seems like people shy away from authenticity for fear of being ‘cringe’?

It’s the only way I know how to write. I try not to think about being cringe or anybody I know hearing any of this because if it’s not extremely honest, I don’t like it. I’m glad to know that whatever lyrics I put out, I can stand by. And all the names in the EP are real because the relationships I’m talking about felt so unresolved. That sparked a lot of conversations!

I saw you open for Lola Young at the London Palladium which was a really special night – did you learn anything from her or from your own performance that you’re bringing into your next gigs?

There’s a Spanish word for it, duende, this authentic emotion that Lola has every single time she sings, especially in the bridge of‘You Noticed’. I cry every time I hear it. It’s almost not human – that’s the goal, to portray all these emotions properly for the audience.

What was the recording process like for ‘Leaving The House Is A Performance’ and what did you take away from it?

I made it with Dan Carey, which was a dream of mine. That first Wet Leg album was my university soundtrack – it was the only vinyl ever played in my house. Dan calls himself the mad professor and has all these old gadgets. Our first conversation was about letters I bought at a flea market from a man that had died. I’d written songs based on these letters, love letters from women to this man. Dan had an old tape machine also from a flea market with original 1950s tapes inside of a couple hearing their own voices back for the first time.

The last thing we did for the project was the broken bit at the end of ‘Jewellery Box’ on the tape recorder, and it broke while we were doing it which is why it sounds like that. So that’s the last thing it ever recorded, which feels kind of cosmic.

We worked on every song at once, doing all the piano parts and then all the guitar parts and so on. So it really felt like one cohesive body of work. It was hard to relive the emotions I’m singing about – some of the vocals are the original ones and I feel so bad for that girl. Every time I go through old photos and diaries, I’m like “It gets better! I promise!”. I’m releasing it for that version of myself. I’m so excited for it to be out, but I’m really excited for what’s next – I feel very lucky”.

I am finishing off with a review of Leaving the House Is a Performance from DORK. This is one of the best E.P.s of the year. From an artist we will be hearing a lot more from. A legend in the making. She has just completed a run of U.K. dates. I wonder what the summer holds in store for Sofia and the Antoinettes. From the very first notes, you are grabbed by her energy and phenomenal songwriting. Do make sure that you check it out:

“Sofia and the Antoinettes wears her feelings loudly and dramatically. Across six tracks, ‘Leaving The House Is A Performance’ is an EP that leans into the mess of relationships that don’t quite work out.

Opener ‘Buried In This Room’ goes straight for the emotional jugular, with sweeping intensity. It’s followed by ‘Naked Chess’ (great title, no notes), where the line “I’ve been avoiding writing about you” hints at how much of this EP has been waiting, maybe hurting a bit. It’s not trying to be subtle.

‘Hi My Love’ has a brighter, synth-led edge, circling a second date that already feels doomed: “She’s getting all dressed up to break her own heart”. From there, ‘I Don’t Know What I’m Doing on Earth, I Don’t Know What on Earth I’m Doing’ traces old friendships and missed connections with lines like “running around collecting names”.

‘Vespa’ lingers on the past with a creeping sense that it’s not done yet (“it’s starting to haunt me”), before ‘Jewellery Box’ closes things out with a quieter fear, circling the EP’s central idea that even stepping outside can feel like a performance.

It’s a lot of feeling, all at once, delivered with conviction. If you’ve ever overthought a text or replayed a conversation on the walk home, there’s plenty here to sit with”.

There is a lot of excitement around Sofia and the Antoinettes. Quite rightly, too! I did wasn’t to include a 2025 interview, as it was important to take a quick look back at her previous E.P. However, she has a new E.P. out and this is her strongest work to date. If you have not heard Sofia and the Antoinettes, then do make sure that you follow her on social media. An absolutely compelling and enormously talented artist, I feel the next few years are going to be huge for her. Leaving the House Is a Performance is the latest brilliant work from a sensational and brilliant songwriter. I am looking forward to hearing…

HER next chapter.

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Follow Sofia and the Antoinettes

FEATURE: Kate Bush: Them Heavy People: The Extraordinary Characters in Her Songs: You Lady (Room for the Life)/Lyra (Lyra)

FEATURE:

 

 

Kate Bush: Them Heavy People: The Extraordinary Characters in Her Songs

IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush in 1978/PHOTO CREDIT: Brian Aris

 

You Lady (Room for the Life)/Lyra (Lyra)

__________

IN terms of albums…

IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush arriving at the Music Day at the Palace event at Buckingham Palace on 1st March, 2005. The Royal reception was held to recognise the excellence of British music, and the contribution it makes to the culture and economy of the U.K./PHOTO CREDIT: Fiona Hanson/Tim Graham Picture Library/Getty Images

from Kate Bush that I can illuminate for their characters, The Kick Inside still has ammunition. I am going to reference Wuthering Heights, Moving and finish this run of features with Them Heavy People. This is a case of an anonymous character in a Kate Bush song seen as one of the weakest offerings from The Kick Inside. You could say that ‘Woman’ is a character in the song, but this is Bush referring more widely to women. However, right near the start of the song, Bush sings “Hey there you lady in tears/Do you think that they care if they're real, woman?”. I want to focus on You Lady. It is a vague character, though someone that gives me a lead into this track. I will come to an interesting analysis and interpretation of this track, as it raises some interesting points. One of the rare distinction of Room for the Life is that it is rarely mentioned in interviews from 1978. Kate Bush didn’t really talk about this track. In terms of subjects, I want to discuss the tracklisting on The Kick Inside, womanhood and birth and how Bush was so mature and different to songwriters at the time, before coming to a fascinating article from Dreams of Orgonon. However, first, an expert from a BBC Radio 1 Personal Call Interview with Ed Stewart and Sue Cook from 1979. A caller named Wendy asks a question that provokes an interesting response:

“Wendy: Hello, Kate. Both your albums seem to me to be very woman orientated like Room For The Life and In The Warm Room. Would you say that you are for or against woman's lib?

K: I'm always getting accused of being a feminist. Really I do write a lot of my songs for men, actually. In fact, "In The Warm Room" is written for men because there are so many songs for women about wonderful men that come up and chat you up when you're in the disco and I thought it would be nice to write a song for men about this amazing female. And I think that I am probably female-oriented with my songs because I'm a female and have very female emotions but I do try to aim a lot of the psychology, if you like, at men”.

In 1978, the idea that a female artist would react negatively to being seen as a feminist. One of the negatives when we think about Kate Bush in 1978 is a naivety and ill-informed side. One can forgive her, as she was only nineteen when The Kick Inside came out and only just in her twenties when this interview was conducted. However, that feeling she was being ‘accused’ for something that is a positive. Now, I think Bush would not react that way. She has inspired so many women in music, and she is a feminist icon. Even if Room for the Life is not discussed much or seen as a lesser song from The Kick Inside, it is actually a feminist anthem.

t is compelling that Bush wrote from a female perceptive but aimed a lot of that psychology and insight to men. Room for the Life is about the strength of women and how they can find this power inside because they are pregnant and find the courage when things are bad. How there is room for life in the womb. The magic of pregnancy and how women are stronger than men in many ways. It was quite a bold song to put on an album in 1978. A scene dominated by men, where there was this misogyny and lack of women at the forefront. A young Kate Bush releasing a debut album that was feminist and female. One of the most female albums ever released. Room for the Life is almost an unofficial title track. If you think about what a kick inside is. A foetus. The title track ends the album, though it does not specifically focus on pregnancy. The song involves a sister who is impregnated by her brother and she feels this shame. She takes her own life and, with it, her unborn child. It is tragic but also beautiful. It does not celebrate pregnancy and women creating life. Room for the Lie, whilst an inferior song, is more positive and empowering. Even today, you do not see many female artists discuss pregnancy and its vitality and wonder. Concerning abortion rights and nations like the U.S. where women’s body autonomy has been put under threat, would there b too much risk for female artists to write songs about pregnancy?! In 1978, when Punk was raging and few women were highlighted and very few songs about pregnancy and childbirth was included on albums (I can’t think of any others), it does make Room for the Life very special. Some fascinating lines: “Night after night in the quiet house/Plaiting her hair by the fire, woman/With no lover to free her desire/How long do you think she can stick it out?/How long do you think before she'll go out, woman?/Hey! Get up on your feet and go get it, now/Like it or not, we keep bouncing back/Because we're woman”. I am not sure if the woman in this verse is the lady from the opening lines. You Lady is someone I see as a specific character. Perhaps the same woman as the one here. So many things to unpack. How, through The Kick Inside, there is this very classic and almost old-fashioned quality.

IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush in 1978/PHOTO CREDIT: Gered Mankwoitz

Women and characters who could have existed centuries ago. Like classic literature or some part of history, there are relatively few ‘contemporary’ characters on the album. You imagine You Lady being this Victorian woman who is by the fire and bereft. Also, this idea that a woman would be distraught or crying because she has no man. Bush saying that it does not matter and women are stronger than that. That said, rather than being an all-out feminist and empowering women, a lot of her sympathies go towards men more than women. Although raised in an artistic family, it was a conservative one. More male influences and role models. I will bring in more sections from this article, though this is what Dreams of Orgonon write about  Kate Bush and feminism; “A couple entries ago we made it clear that Kate Bush is at the bare minimum not a conscious feminist. Her work is useful for women’s sexual liberation and art, but Bush’s beliefs are broadly conservative. I’ve gone on at length about Bush’s soft spot for men — she’s generally inclined to treat them well and make them paragons of beauty and virtue. Sometimes she’ll even do this at the expense of failing to call men out when they commit immoral acts, as we’ll see in “Babooshka.” Bush is a heterosexual woman, and one with an unusually positive view of men. One of the primary effects of this preference is that her songs predominantly feature conversations between men and women, often of a romantic or sexual nature (or both). It’s a terribly heteronormative dynamic, although one Bush will push against at times”. Even if we can debate whether Kate Bush was misguided in terms of the importance of feminism and standing behind that or positive because she didn’t villainise men and saw them as flawed by good – when many of her female peers castigated men and tore them down -, there is no denying that Room for the Life is a fascinating song that was so different to anything released around at the time. I have softened to it. Even though The Kick Inside is my favourite album ever, Room for the Life is my least-favourite track. I do love Bush’s vocal on it, though the repetitive idea of women having room for life in them is hammered home! You gets smacked around the head. Less sophisticated or clever than other songs on the album, it would be ridiculed today, as it has a weaker feminist message than she could have created. Kate Bush was a genius when she recorded the album, so I feel she holds back and could have written this empowering song. Even so, you could argue it is a feminist anthem.

In 2023, Far Out Magazine wrote how Room for the Life is misunderstood. Even if Kate Bush did not consciously set out to write a feminist anthem, in years since, you can see this track as such. Also, what compelled Bush to write the song in the first place? Was she keen to show how amazing women are and how they are resilient and strong because life as we know it depends on them? Even if she was being kind to men and she was not particular feminist, she does champion the power of women:

“Yet, for many, Bush provided a role model for women who could exist and do their own thing within the music industry away from the men who dominate it. It is perhaps for this reason that a number of her tracks are often hailed as ‘feminist anthems’ in spite of the artist’s controversial view on the topic.

One such song is ‘Room For The Life’, the penultimate track from her debut album, The Kick Inside. On a surface level, it is easy to see how the lyrics, “Like it or not, we were built tough, because we’re woman”, purport feminist empowerment. Quite the contrary, though, Bush shared in a 1980 interview with Sounds that the song was supposed to be a message to be “a bit easier on men”.

As is commonplace within her interviews, the composer and performer goes on to say: “We are the ones with survival inside us, we carry the next generation, we have the will to keep going, we keep bouncing back. I don’t know if that’s anti-liberationist but I wouldn’t say femininity was very strong in my songs”.

This raises an interesting topic about how much say artists can have about the interpretation of their own work. If ‘Room For The Life’ inspires empowerment in some women, then does it really matter if that was not Kate Bush’s original intention? She said herself, in a 2016 Fader interview, “I’m sure with a lot of paintings, people don’t understand what the painter originally meant, and I don’t really think that matters. I just think if you feel something, that’s really the ideal goal”.

So, while Kate Bush might be apprehensive to think about how works in the canon of feminist art, she at least seems content with the fact that her music means a lot of different things to a lot of different people – and if it has empowered women in the music industry along the way, then so be it”.

I do want to get back to that Dreams of Orgonon feature. I will move to topics I want to cover off first. However, I see Room for the Life as being a close compassion of Strange Phenomena. That songs is about synchronicity and coincidences. Though it also is about menstruation (“Every girl knows about the punctual blues”). Again, in 1978, how many women in music dropped that into their music?! Not many today. Is it seen as too controversial or unseemly for a female artist to sign about something very natural that should be include in more songs. Aside from Jenny Hval’s 2016 album, Blood Bitch (whose lyrical content is also influenced by menstruation, 1970s Horror and exploitation films and Virginia Woolf), there are not many recent examples. That is another frank, bold and hugely mature song that people do not talk about much. It also contains the refrain of “Om mani padme hum” (Om Mani Padme Hum is one of the most powerful mantras in Tibetan Buddhism, primarily associated with Avalokiteśvara, the Bodhisattva of Compassion. It encapsulates the essence of the Buddha's teachings—the pursuit of enlightenment through the union of method (compassion) and wisdom).

IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush in 1978/PHOTO CREDIT: Gered Mankwoitz

I am digressing. Maybe the tracklisting on The Kick Inside is not perfect. Having Room for the Life right next to The Kick Inside. The two songs that mention pregnancy and have some similarities. Also, the sonic and lyrical dynamics. Room for the Life seems jarring when you lead into The Kick Inside. It also comes after Them Heavy People. I think Room for the Life should have followed Strange Phenomena. Make it track four. Put Kite on the second side. You may say that Room for the Life and Strange Phenomena are similar in terms of menstruation and pregnancy. However, if Room for the Life is a lesser track, easier to bury a bit at the top than right near the end. The Kick Inside is a sublime closing track, so should Room for the Life be the track that it follows? I think there are merits to it. Bush’s singing is fantastic. The emotion and movement she brings to the track. People might find the “A-mama-woma-mama-woman-aha!” chant grating, though I feel it offers this quirk that elevates the song from being considered pedestrian or bland. I would have loved to have seen her in 1979 during The Tour of Life and seeing how this under-highlighted song went down! I do think that You Lady is this interesting character. Not named, and perhaps just meant to be this normal woman, the first verse suggests men do not care if women cry. Or they see it is part of “the deal”. Bush implores the woman not to get heavy with the man as women are born strong. It both empowers women and spotlights their brilliance, but it is also fair and balanced to men. This mutual understanding. Maybe tipping ahead to 1985’s Running Up That Hill (A Deal with God) and that masterpiece from Hounds of Love, where men and women could better understand one another if they were in each other’s shoes.

I am keen to get to the second song in this feature, though Dreams of Orgonon have written more about Room for the Life – more negatively than positively, mind – than pretty much anyone else, so it would be foolhardy to overlook it. Rare that Bush wrote a song that is a dialogue between two women. Bush herself talking to this woman in the song. You Lady or ‘Woman’. Suffering from a slightly ham-fisted or embarrassing take on female strength and pregnancy, it is amazing that few people have ever talked about this song! In terms of the womb and writing a song that was more progressive and less naïve, you can look at Breathing from 1980’s Never for Ever. This Woman’s Work from 1989’s The Sensual World. Though, in 1978, could an artist like Kate Bush have expected to pen something less regressive when she was surrounded by male artists in a music industry that was sexist and misogynistic?! The gender politics on Room for the Life is something that Dream of Orgonon highlight:

“In addition to its musical tastelessness, “Room for the Life” is out of touch. Bush has identified herself with male artists, admitting that a lack of interesting female songwriters was the reason (she cites Joni Mitchell, Billie Holliday, and Joan Armatrading as exceptions). When she writes about two female characters in “Room,” things fall apart (this isn’t always the case — my favorite Kate Bush song is a woman-centered dialogue, as we’ll see). The song is addressed from one woman to another, telling of the magical power of women, expressed as a singularity with the oddly agrammatical phrase “because we’re woman.” It’s an oddly naïve little song, and one with strange conclusions on how to be a woman. “Lost in your men and the games you play/trying to prove that you’re better woman,” Bush chides her friend. How dare she try to get ahead of men. The audacity of it.

But the apex of the song’s regressive gender politics comes in… its conclusion that women are special because of their wombs. Really. The room for the life is the uterus. “Inside of you can be two.” I mean… what do you do with that? Infertile women and trans women are pretty straightforwardly excluded from the deal. That’s something Pat Robertson garbage might peddle. It’s a vulgar and outdated form of the Feminine Mystique. Yes, this is pretty much orthodox women’s rights stuff of the period. And it’s the point where you’re almost ready to call it quits on the Seventies. Bush will get better on gender in many ways — we’re going to see some amazing stuff from her in the future directly related to wombs”.

I am going to flip things way forward. From a 1978 album track to a standalone 2007 single, we arrive at a curious offering. The character I am discussing is Lyra. That is from the song of the same name. If Room for the Life is seen as one of the weaker tracks on The Kick Inside, then Lyra is often seen as one of the weaker singles from Bush. Not to pick on the tracks or expose anything. However, I do think that they both have merits. Lyra did get nominated for Best Original Song at the Satellite Awards. It is used in the closing credits of the film. Bush was commissioned to write the song, with the request that it references to the lead character, Lyra Belacqua. This allows me to once again link Kate Bush to literature. So many of her songs have either been inspired by literature, or they are about a literary character. From Wuthering Heights to The Sensual World to Get Out of My House, Kate Bush has always had this attraction to the written words and charters within. There are a few different things to discuss when it comes to Lyra. In The Golden Compass, Lyra Belacqua was played by Dakota Blue Richards. She was thirteen when she played the character. I do like how Bush was commissioned to write a song about the lead. Whether you see it as a good single or one that fits into her cannon, it still has its place. Bush was thirteen (though she says she was sixteen) when she wrote The Man with the Child in His Eyes. An extraordinary talent at that age. Here, Bush writing about a character played by an exceptional thirteen-year-old actor Also, this is another case of Bush writing for a film. She contributed Be Kind to My Mistakes for 1986’s Castaway. She was offered a role in that film, but she wisely turned it down, as it would have involved a lot of screen time of her naked alongside the horrid Oliver Reed. Even so, she did give a pretty decent song to the film. This Woman’s Work featured in John Hughes’s She’s Having a Baby in 1988 – a year before it was heard on The Sensual World. A T.V. series rather than a film, Running Up That Hill (A Deal with God) was remixed for inclusion on Stranger Things in 2022. Her songs have appeared in a range of other films, including The Mother and Palm Springs. This was an occasion that Bush herself wrote an original for a film. In 2018, when ranking Kate Bush’s twenty-nine singles, The Guardian placed Lyra twenty-third and said this: “A single by default, not design: it charted on downloads from the soundtrack album of The Golden Compass alone. Belying Bush’s reputation as a pernickety studio perfectionist, it apparently took 10 days to write and record. It’s not her greatest song, but its ambient synth and choral backing is luscious and enveloping”. Classic Pop selected Kate Bush’s best forty tracks last year and put Lyra in eighteenth! So kindness towards a song that is really good, though not one that is among Bush’s very best (in my view).

What is notable is that she wrote around this literary character. If you are not aware of who Lyra Belacqua is (later known as Lyra Silvertongue) is fascinating. In terms of who Lyra is, she “is the brave and rebellious 11-year-old protagonist of Philip Pullman's His Dark Materials fantasy trilogy, which begins with The Golden Compass (originally titled Northern Lights). Raised as a supposed orphan at Jordan College in Oxford, Lyra's world is one where human souls exist outside the body as shape-shifting animal companions called daemons. Her daemon is named Pantalaimon”. If Room for the Life is Bush perhaps writing a song that later would be seen as a feminist call and anthem, here I feel she is more overt. Writing about this brash and amazing girl. Headstrong and fearless, can you draw comparisons with Kate Bush when she broke through? I do wonder how that commissioned happened and why Kate Bush was appreciated. According to the late Del Palmer (who was an engineer on many of Kate Bush’s album, played on most of her albums, and was in a long-term relationship with her), Bush was asked at short notice to write Lyra. The song was produced and recorded by Bush in her own studio, and features the Magdalen College, Oxford choir. Interestingly, it contains the introduction of an unused song written for Disney's Dinosaur. I do wonder why Bush turned that down or why she chose to recycle that introduction and use it here. The fantasy element is key. In terms of literature and what influenced some of Bush’s songs, we might look at horror or darker elements. That said, James Joyce’s phenomenal 1922 novel, Ulysses (which Bush was inspired by when writing The Sensual World’s title track and got to use Molly Bloom’s soliloquy in 2011’s Flower of the Mountain), chronicles a single ordinary day - 16th June, 1904 - in Dublin, following advertising canvasser Leopold Bloom, intellectual Stephen Dedalus, and Bloom's wife, Molly. I forgot that Bush also contributed a song to Terry Gilliam’s Brazil. That track is Brazil (Sam Lowry’s First Dream). That is a vocal version of the 1939 Jazz standard, Aquarela do Brasil (Watercolour of Brazil). The original music and English lyrics were written by the Brazilian composer, Ary Barroso, and American lyricist, Bob Russel. You can read more about Brazil here.

This life-long bond with cinema. Bush inspired by film. How she did write songs for films but didn’t appear in them herself. It is one of those great what-ifs when we think about artists who could have been great actors. She starred in her own short film, The Line, the Cross and the Curve, from 1993, though I could have seen a 1980s Kate Bush appearing in comedies, psychological thrillers and romantic epics. She must have been offered a lot of these, though she was so focused on work. I wonder if her son, Bertie, inspired her decision to write Lyra. He was about nine when the film came out and must have been in her mind to an extent. This was an interesting post-Aerial time. It would take until 2011 (with Director’s Cut) when Bush would release another album. The 2005 double album was one very much influenced and affected by motherhood and new family. So much of its positivity and spellbinding beauty is because Bush’s heart and soul were full and happy. There was not much written about Kate Bush in 2007. Apart from this article from The New Yorker, it was a quieter time in general. Bush focusing on motherhood rather than putting out another album. A nice moment to write this song and not have to include it as part of an album. I do think Bush was in mind because she and author Philip Pullman (2007’s Lyra is based around his 1995  novel, Northern Lights). Pullman appeared on BBC Radio 6 Music’s Paperback Writers, and he chose a Kate Bush song as one of his selection. Philip Pullman wrote the short story, The Collectors, which is set in the His Dark Materials universe, in direct tribute to Kate Bush. He has noted that the story originated from a tale Kate told him about two strange paintings she owned, and the book is dedicated to her. Pullman has frequently named Bush as one of his favourite musical artists. The admiration goes both ways, as Bush is known to be an avid reader and admirer of Pullman's His Dark Materials trilogy. Thanks to BBC for that information. It seems more natural and understandable Bush would have been asked to write a song for The Golden Compass. Was she asked at short notice because someone else dropped out, or were there no plans to have a song over the closing credits? You would tuamine the latter. Not a case of Bush being a second choice, as she was for Peter Gabriel’s song. Don’t Give Up. Gabriel had Dolly Parton in mind for that song but she turned it down. You can’t imagine anyone but Kate Bush singing this duet!

IN THIS PHOTO: Philip Pullman/PHOTO CREDIT: Massimiliano Donati/Awakening/Getty Images

You can read more about Lyra Belacqua here. The final topic I want to introduce relating to this character is the lyrics to the song. Many people might not have seen The Golden Compass. I didn’t. It did not receive great reviews. Even so, I think that the lyrics on Lyra are among Bush’s best. They may seem quite simple, though the words alone evoke so much emotion. Consider these lines: “Who's to know/What's in the future/But we hope/We will be with her/We have all our love/To give her, oh/Lyra, Lyra/And her soul/Walks beside her/An army stands/Behind her/Lyra, Lyra”. Perhaps a slight stretch, though I see comparisons to Joanni from Aerial. About Joan of Arc, another person with an army behind her. Through their lives and fates were different, it is Kate Bush writing about strong and influential females. One from fantasy and fiction and the other from history. If you did not see the film, I feel Bush’s Lyra does compel curiosity around the books. Titled The Golden Compass in the U.S. but Northern Lights here, you can read more about it here. 1995 is when that novel came out. Two years after The Red Shoes. Burned out and needing to step away, I can imagine that she did read that first book in the His Dark Materials trilogy (1995-2000), Lyra arrived two years after Aerial. A much happier time, I do like how the two had respect for one another’s work. Pullman undoubtably connected with Bush because of how she wrote. In a literary and imaginative way. Looking at Northern Lights, in this world (of the novel), humans' souls exist outside of their bodies in the form of sentient ‘dæmons’ in animal form which accompany, aid, and comfort their humans. An important plot device is the alethiometer, a truth-telling symbol reader. That plot and aspect does seem very Kate Bush! In turn, I can see how Philip Pullman might have inspired song ideas and moments for Kate Bush. She and Pullman were close friends, and he has visited her home. The legendary author turns eighty in November. I will investigate rarer or lesser-known Kate Bush songs for this series. I am going to talk about more of her demos and one or two B-sides. I wanted to pair You Lady from The Kick Inside’s Room for the Life with Lyra from the song featured on The Golden Compass soundtrack, as they are tracks that do not get discussed. Vastly different characters, that feature at distinct and interesting times in Bush’s career, yet more examples of…

HER undeniable brilliance.

FEATURE: Kate Bush: The Whole Story: Kate's KBC Article Issue 21 (Winter 1987)

FEATURE:

 

 

Kate Bush: The Whole Story

IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush performing at the Secret Policeman's Ball, in aid of Amnesty International, at the London Palladium on 28th March, 1987/PHOTO CREDIT: Dave Hogan/Getty Images

 

Kate's KBC Article Issue 21 (Winter 1987)

__________

I am coming back…

IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush photographed for the Hounds of Love single cover shoot in 1986/PHOTO CREDIT: John Carder Bush

to a resource that not a lot of people know about. Gaffweb have lovingly collated writings by Kate Bush. Cases where she was interviewed for the Kate Bush Club. In winter 1987, for the twenty-first edition, Kate Bush interviewed herself. The piece was called "Cousin Kate" by Zwort Finkle. This cool alias, it was a nice angle. Rather than having a conventional interview where she was asked about her music and there was this predictable line, she could dictate the course. By winter 1987, Kate Bush had released Hounds of Love (1985) and The Whole Story (1986). Working on The Sensual World (released in 1989), she was twenty-nine when this piece was published. 1987 quite an interesting year. The video version of The Whole Story was released. In March 1987, Kate Bush performed Running Up That Hill (A Deal with God) and Let It Be with David Gilmour for Amnesty International's Secret Policeman's Third Ball concerts. I am going to bring in some songs from Hounds of Love and Experiment IV (the single recorded for The Whole Story) to punctuate segments of the interview:

“Hi, my name's Zwort Finkle, I'm from the U.S. of A. and I'm a distant cousin of Kate's. We haven't seen each other for years, so I had to fill her in on my life story. I left college three years ago, and have been following a brilliant career in journalism, working for such well known magazines as Blurt, Let's Go Crazy, Let's Go Crazy Again, Son of Blurt and Let's Go Blurt Again. This was my first visit to London, and I was astounded at how you guys can survive this climate, how you manage to keep to one side of the road when the roads are so small, how quaint and cute you all are, and how totally bored and unenthused you all are with things that would make us little old Americans go "Yee-Hah".

Zwort: Tell me, Katie, have you ever thought of living in America?

Katie: There are very few places I've been to that I've felt I could live in--I think too many of my roots are here in England, and so much of my work is based here, and I seem to spend most of my time working. I've only been to America a few times, and then only to New York, L.A. and Las Vegas, but maybe if I visited more parts of America I would find a place that I feel I could live in. I really enjoyed my visits, especially to New York--there's so much energy there, so many different and interesting people and a very social sense between artistic people, that certainly in the music business doesn't exist in this country. People seem to work in great isolation here, whereas in New York, people want to get together and talk and enthuse.

Zwort: Like, er, do you feel there's a lack of enthusiasm here, cous'?

Katie: Yes, I do, and I feel a lot of people, certainly within the music business, are particularly attracted to America by this. "Artistic" people like--possibly even need--a lot of feedback, and Americans are wonderful at making you feel wanted, and are very positive about the launching of new ideas, new approaches. It's exciting to be among this energy, and in England I think we're all a bit hard on each other, but this country has a great wealth of talent and creative ideas, it's just that people have to fight a little to get a bit of enthusiasm going. But maybe that's not such a bad thing--maybe it creates more determination in a cause. What do you think, cousin Rodney?

Zwort: Actually, it's Zwort.

Katie: Sorry?

Zwort: Zwort!!

Katie: Sorry, what's Zwort?

Zwort: My name, of course.

Katie: Oh!

Zwort: What were you doing in Las Vegas? That's an unusual place to visit!

Katie: I was there with a guy from the record company just for a day, and it was really just an opportunity to see the place while he had business matters to deal with. It is an extraordinary place. Instead of saying "How you doing?", everyone says, "Feeling lucky?" It's like a strange oasis stuck right in the middle of the desert away from everything. We took a flight in a small plane over the Grand Canyon, and it was one of the most terrifying experiences I've ever had. The Canyon is totally enormous, and we were so tiny-- I've never experienced that kind of vertigo before or since, and with all the air pockets, we went up and down, up and down.

Zwort: I understand you don't do many interviews.

Katie: That's right.

Zwort: Why is that?

Katie: I find it very difficult to express myself in interviews. Often people have so many preconceptions that I spend most of the interview trying to defend myself from the image that was created by the media eight years ago. That is understandable to a certain extent--that's when I did most of my interviews, and I think the image was created by what the press felt the public wanted, how they interpreted me as I was then, and how I projected myself at that time.

Zwort: You mean like saying "wow", "amazing", and that you were weak and fragile, etc.

Katie: Yes, that is part of it. I was very young, idealistic and enthusiastic about so much then, but I felt they exaggerated these qualities. And I was--and am even more so now--a private person, and perhaps because I wouldn't talk about these areas of my life they turned to the "wow", "amazing" girl, even when I didn't use those words. The few interviews I do, people still seem to dwell on this old "me", and I find it disappointing when I want to talk about my current work.

Zwort: Do you , like, er, think enthusiasm was an unfashionable thing, particularly at this time, when punk and street cred were the "hip" thing?

Katie: Yes, I do. I think it still is, particularly in this country. But I think clever people hide their unfashionable faces from the public. Perhaps in a way, I was too open with the press, maybe I should have "performed" for them, and puked and gobbed at the cameras, but it's not my nature, I was brought up too well. The interviews I've sat through patiently, sometimes hanging onto my patience with the skin of my teeth, thinking it's good for my tolerance and might make me a better person.

Zwort: But you do occasionally talk to the press?

Katie: Yes. There are good people to talk to, they're not always talking about the past, or deliberately trying to make you look like an idiot, and are genuinely interested in my work. But it's like I said, I find it hard to express myself in interviews. It depends how I feel--sometimes they're fun, especially if I know the journalist, and the questions are interesting--they make you think about areas you might not have even considered before. But sometimes I find myself saying things just to please them, or just to give a question an answer. Sometimes I get verbal diarrhoea and just burble complete rubbish, and sometimes I feel so guarded that I invert, and feel like a trapped animal. Quite often I go over an interview in my head afterwards and realise I've said something completely contrary to what I believe, but I put most of it down to being quite a private person, and being someone who likes to think carefully about how I say something. Words are very special things, and are so easily misinterpreted-- I much prefer to write lyrics than do an interview. I feel I'm a songwriter, not a personality, and I find it difficult to even talk about my songs, sometimes. In a way, they speak for themselves, and the subjects or inspirations can be so personal, or just seem ridiculous when spoken about.

Zwort: Do you think it's important that people know what the songs are about?

Katie: No, I think it can be interesting for people, but their interpretation is what matters, and I find it fascinating how people do seem to understand so much about a song that must be totally obscure and is so personal to me, but maybe they just feel it, they feel the emotions of the song, somehow grasp the meanings. It's so hard for me to tell because I know what it's about, but for example, some of the stuff on The Ninth Wave are so obscure lyrically, and yet people seem to know exactly what I'm trying to say. That's a great feeling. It stops me worrying about that aspect of songwriting--that someone somewhere knows exactly what you're trying to put into words.

Zwort: Do you have favourite lyric-writers, as opposed to "musical" songwriters?

Katie: I'm not sure you can separate the two, because once a word is sung, it can completely change its feeling to the point where you don't recognise the word any more--for me that is part of the fascination. But my favourite lyric just now is The Boy in the Bubble by Paul Simon. The chorus of that is totally brilliant, particualarly the line, "The way we look to the distant constellation that is dying in the corner of the sky." It's poetry, but the impact is the combination of the words with the music, and the way he sings it--it's so good. But quite often I mishear lyrics, and prefer my version to the real words when I find them out. I know a lot of people who have the same experience, and again we're back to what music means to the listener, or how they hear it. Music is a very special thing.

Zwort: Would you say that music is something religious, even holy to you?

Katie: Some of the most beautiful music ever was written for God, for a loved one, in a state of grief, sorrow, suppression--it seems to be an expression from a person on a higher level...? I'm not sure I understand it at all, but music seems to come out of people when very little else can. Some of the great composers wrote beautiful music but, as people, were monsters or maniacs. People who can't speak properly because of stutters can sing fluently. I saw a clip from a programme about a man who only had a short-term memory--he couldn't remember anything: what he'd just said, just done. He lived in a constant state of panic, buecause he didn't know where he was, or why he was there. It was terrifying. The only thing he could remember was he wife, and when he sat at the church organ at his local church he could sing a play complete pieces of music without any problems. It was like he'd suddenly been set free. And yet when he was shown a video recording of him doing this, he had no memory of it whatsoever. Music is a strange and beautiful thing. It means a great deal to me. I love listening to and making music. I am very lucky to be able to be involved with music--I hope I always will be.

Zwort: Do you think music comes from the soul? This is what some people believe.

Katie: I don't know. I just know that music is something special, and also something very personal for people.

Zwort: Going back to the obscurity of some of your songs that are personal to you, and how you feel people pick up on this-- can you give some detailed examples?

Katie: Mmmh, let me think.

Zwort: I'll make a cup of coffee and you have a think, cous'.

Katie: Rod--er, Zwort?

Zwort (from kitchen): Yeah?

Katie: Can I have tea?

Zwort: Yeah, sure--you English and your tea. It's so quaint! Can we have scones and I'll have tea too?

Katie: Sorry, haven't got any, but there's some fig rolls...

(ten minutes later...)

Zwort: Okay--teabreak over.

Katie: Right, back to your question. I think it works on the basis of: if it moves you, it could move others. Hitchcock was talking about his films and saying the best subjects for his films that were frightening were things that frightened him--like Vertigo. Apparently he was terrified of heights. It seems logical, doesn't it?

Zwort: Yeah, sure. Hitchcock was brilliant.

Katie: Yes, I agree, a genius. An engineer we were working with picked out the line in And Dream of Sheep that says 'Come here with me now.' I asked him why he liked it so much. He said, 'I don't know, I just love it. It's so moving and comforting.' I don't think he even knew what was being said exactly, but the song is about someone going to sleep in the water, where they're alone and frightened. And they want to go to sleep, to get away from the situation. But at the same time it's dangerous to go to sleep in water, you could drown. When I was little, and I'd had a bad dream, I'd go into my parents' bedroom round to my mother's side of the bed. She'd be asleep, and I wouldn't want to wake her, so I'd stand there and waid for her to sense my presence and wake up. She always did, within minutes; and sometimes I'd frighten her--standing there still, in the darkness in my nightdress. I'd say, "I've had a bad dream," and she'd lift bedclothes and say something like "Come here with me now." It's my mother saying this line in the track, and I briefed her on the ideas behind it before she said it. And I think it's the motherly comfort that this engineer picked up on. In fact, he said this was his favourite part of the album. Cloudbusting is, again, lyrically very obscure. I think the idea is easy to grasp, but the story behind it is very involved, and in a way the video that accompanies it is equally so, but I've spoken to several people who have felt very moved by the song or the video or both, and they all say they feel this really personal relationship between the child and his father, how real it seems, how sad it is. For me, that is wonderful--the book that originally inspired the song and video moved me so much! It's so sad, and it's also a true story, and somehow even if people don't understand the story, they pick up on the feelings, the emotions--this is a very rewarding experience for me.

Zwort: Did the writer of the book get to hear the song and see the video?

Katie: Yes. These were worrying moments for me--what if he didn't like it? If I'd got it wrong? But he said he found them very emotional and that I'd captured the situation. This was the ultimate reward for me

Zwort: Do you stay in contact?

Katie: Yes, we write to each other, and I enjoy the contact very much. Many people have tried to get this book [ A Book of Dreams, by Peter Reich], many have read it since and adore it. The trouble is, the book is out of print, and I think it's such a shame that it's unavailable for those that would love to read it. It's very difficult to find copies of it, though I understand that some libraries still carry it.

Zwort: How do you feel about The Whole Story? Were you against the release of a compilation album?

Katie: Yes, I was at first. I was concerned that it would be like a "K-Tel" record, a cheapo-compo with little thought behind it. It was the record company's decision, and I didn't mind as long as it was well put together. We put a lot of work into the packaging, trying to make it look tasteful, and carefully thought out the the running order. And the response has been phenomenal--I'm amazed!

Zwort: Careful, there's that word!

Katie: Surely I can say it once or twice. Everybody else does, and gets away with it--Zzzwort!!

Zwort: Only teasing. How do you feel about the video compilation?

Katie: Again, I was worried initially, because of the release of The Single File and Hair of the Hound, but with the opportunity of getting Experiment IV on it, and the record company being sure there was a market, I felt it could be a good idea. We spent a lot of work on Experiment IV, and because of it almost being an "adult" video, we were sure we'd have trouble getting it shown on TV.

Zwort: Did you have trouble getting it shown?

Katie: Yes. The video took a long time to make, and with having to write and record the single with the tightest deadlines I've ever had, the video was needed before we'd finished it. But we did get a minute clip ready in time to be shown when the single was charting, but Top of the Pops refused to show it, saying it was too violent! It's not violent at all, but we expected a response like this. Pop promos are in a very sensitive area. They're considered "family viewing", but there are many sexualy ambiguous videos shown on children's TV--yet this was considered too extreme. However, The Tube showed it in its entirety, and it's now showing at the cinema with a feature film, so we've made a sort of B-film!! That's quite exciting.

Zwort: I noticed that instead of the Wow video you've pieced together footage from the live shows. Why is this?

Katie: Two reasons, really. Firstly, I really don't like the promo we did for Wow. I think it's silly. And also, looking through the videos I noticed a great absence of "performance" promos, and the tour was an important part of the story. Also, it makes it a more interesting item for people who have some of the other videos. That way it's not just Experiment IV that is a new visual.

Zwort: I understand you directed this clip. How did it go, and why did you direct it?

Katie: Directing is a new experiment for me--actually, it was Experiment III--and with this track I had such strong visual ideas while I was writing the song that I wanted to give it another go. It's the first time the video and song have come together. It was very hard work, but a lot of fun.

We filmed in an old disused hospital, and the conditions were very cold and damp, but everyone got very involved and we had a great time.

The cast included Dawn French, Hugh Laurie, Richard Vernon, Peter Vaughan, Del, Paddy, Jay, Lisa and many friends. It was wonderful to work with people who I admire so much, and a very exciting experience. Paddy played the lunatic, and in every take his sounds were just as impressive as his visuals--I wish I'd put it onto tape. He literally "threw" himself into the part, and the crew were so impressed they applauded him--a great accolade!

Although this was the most complicated of my directions, it was so much easier for me because I appeared in it only briefly, so I could concentrate on being behind the camera, which I really enjoy. And it's so nice to involve the people I like--not only are they great performers, but they're good to be with.

There were some wonderful moments, like filming in East London. We had a field full of "dead bodies" who kept moving about to get more comfortable, so we had to shout out over a loud-hailer, "Stop moving--You're supposed to be dead!" And the music shop that we created for the shot [ Music For Pleasure ] was so realistic that passers-by kept popping in wanting to buy some of the instruments.

Zwort: How do you view the changes audially and visually on The Whole Story album and video?

Katie: I really like the idea of the album being available on video--I've always wanted to make a form of video album, but I never thought it would be a compilation!

I see two main changes, although I'm very subjective. Audially, the important step for me was production, which had led on to our own studio. The process is so much more personal because of this. On the first two albums all my arrangements were contained within the piano arrangement, which was the foundation, but which was then handed over to Andrew Powell as producer to interpret with his string arrangements. And the musicians and I worked in my backing vocals by playing the tapes over and over and singing along. But being producer I could put a lot less emphasis on the piano arrangement and interpret the song through other instruments onto tape, even playing around with the parts after the musicians had gone, and getting our own studio meant I could build up the song straight onto tape, keeping bits that worked and building up ideas even before the musicians came in.

Visually, I see a shift from being inspired by dance (Lindsay Kemp being a big influence), to filmic imagery (being influenced by all the films I love so much). I find the combination of film and music very exciting, and it's very rare for people to concentrate on both with equal concern--film-makers don't want the music to distract, and musicians don't want the visuals to be stronger than the music. But when it works, it's so powerful! For instance, The Wall, Singing in the Rain, Amadeus-- there are definitely people moving this way more and more. It's great.

Zwort: Wouldn't it be great to attack all the senses at once? To have film and music, sensurround fitted to the seats, scents filtered in through the air-conditioning--Yee-hah!

Katie: Oh, Cousin Rodney--that's what I love about you: you're so enthusiastic!

Zwort: It's Zwort!”.

I am going to dip back into the brilliant Gaffaweb, as I love Kate Bush’s writing for the Kate Bush Club. This one stuck out, as Bush asked questions that perhaps an interviewer would have asked in 1987. Looking back on Hounds of Love and the success of The Whole Story. It is great that she did this, and I imagine fans knew all along that Zwort Finkle is her pretending to be this American journalist. A name that makes her sound like someone from space. An alien! IUt is a wonderful interview where she actually is pretty open and humorous. A treat for fans at the end of 1987 that many today have not seen. Another reason why I love doing this series. A brilliant and distinct interview from and by…

A quirky and astonishing genius.

FEATURE: Birth of the Cool: Miles Davis at One Hundred: The Legacy and Influence of a Jazz Giant

FEATURE:

 

 

Birth of the Cool: Miles Davis at One Hundred

IN THIS PHOTO: Miles Davis, 1985/1989/PHOTO CREDIT: Anton Corbijn

 

The Legacy and Influence of a Jazz Giant

__________

BECAUSE the genius…

IN THIS PHOTO: Miles Davis in N.Y.C. in 1949/PHOTO CREDIT: Herman Leonard

and God-like Miles Davis would have turned a hundred on 26th May, I wanted to discuss his legacy and influence. In terms of the impact he had on music and wider culture. Perhaps he is still seen as niche or for Jazz lovers only. However, the variation of his music is incredible. One could not easily compare Birth of the Cool from 1957 to Bitches Brew from 1970. In 2022, Sounds of Life discussed the legacy of the Miles Davis. In terms of how he changed music, and the artists who followed who are clearly influenced by his music – Kendrick Lamar being among the most acclaimed:

“Miles Dewey Davis III was born in 1926 in Illinois. He started learning to play the trumpet at an early age, inspired by the creative atmosphere of St. Louis. In 1944, he entered New York’s Juilliard School of Music, where he started performing with some of the most well-known jazz musicians of the time.

From the end of the ‘40s to the end of the ‘50s, Davis recorded and played music extensively; he performed together with his legendary nonet, and in 1957 released Birth of the Cool under Capitol Records, his first major release and the one that led him to international recognition.

After recording and touring with his newly formed quintet, Davis released Kind of Blue in 1959, one of the most successful jazz albums in history. It was an instant success that skyrocketed Davis' career and made him a jazz icon.

Most musicians would consider this as the pinnacle of their career and start winding down thereafter, choosing not to explore new sounds but to stick with the ones that made them famous. However, that was never the case with Davis: the legendary trumpeter always tried to push the boundaries of his music. Throughout the ‘60s and ‘70s, he released almost 20 albums while constantly trying to blend and transcend musical genres.

Some of the albums Davis released at the time were not well received neither by critics nor by fans because they were considered too experimental and hard to follow. Looking back now, Davis was way ahead of his time, and it took us decades to fully understand the depth of his innovation and dedication to revolutionise contemporary music.

Miles Davis took a hiatus from recording and performing between 1975 and 1981. When he came back in the early ‘80s, he was a legend looking for new sources of inspiration, studying the latest technologies and sounds and implementing them in his songs. This final decade of his life proved to be another crucial chapter in Davis' career, defined by extensive experimentation, collaboration with artists across all genres, and relentless creativity.

The evolution of the Prince of Darkness

His ability to reinvent himself and draw inspiration from newer sounds to keep his style contemporary is nothing short of extraordinary. I can’t think of any other artist, in any discipline, who could be so inspired and inspiring for five decades.

If you skip through Davis’ discography on any music streaming service, you’ll hear influences from all possible music genres, from progressive rock to ambient to ethnic music. The variety and complexity of his output are mind-blowing and proof of Davis’ fundamental role in shaping modern music.

You can appreciate Davis’ chameleonic approach to composition since the early stages of his career – the period that led to the publication of Birth of The Cool. With his first commercially successful album, Miles Davis brought jazz closer to classical music with innovative and intricate arrangements that were unheard of at the time.

With his early works, Miles Davis elevated jazz music and upgraded the level of complexity this genre could achieve. Accompanied by an incredibly talented ensemble, Davis managed to be on top of the experimental scene while enjoying commercial success for many years.

In the ‘60s and ‘70s, Miles Davis evolved once again and added the influences of rock, electronic and funk to his music. The result was albums that were often misunderstood or altogether ignored at first, only to become seminal works for the following generations of musicians.

An example is the fantastic On the Corner, an experimental album published in 1972 and largely ignored by fans and critics alike when it came out. On the Corner features elements of rock and funk music blended with Indian and African instruments, mesmerising rhythms and moments of pure genius.

It took listeners decades to appreciate the experimentations included in this album, which jumps from one musical genre to another with such nonchalance that it still inspires artists today.

In the final part of Davis’ career, which began at the end of his hiatus in 1981, his usual experimental output is alternated with more accessible works. Two major albums that define this era of Davis’ career are the Grammy-award winning Tutu, and Aura, the last album that was published while the trumpeter was alive”.

His compositions never felt artificial and forcefully experimental. Since the beginning of his career in the 1940s, Miles Davis was always able to reinvent his style according to modern influences while staying fundamentally true to himself. He never tried to please his audience; instead, he chose to push the boundaries of his style until a bridge with a new audience was created.

To thoroughly examine the career of Miles Davis would probably require years of study. The way he pushed the boundaries of jazz, bridging the gap between seemingly unreconcilable musical genres, is something no other musician has been able to do since his death.

His legacy comprises artists who have an avant-gardist approach to music composition. American trumpeter Christian Scott is among those who have been able to reprise the work of Davis and push it forward.

American rapper and producer Kendrick Lamar stated Miles Davis was one of his primary sources of inspiration while recording his pivotal 2015 album To Pimp A Butterfly.

Ambient producer Brian Eno cited Get Up With It as the album that inspired him the most while recording On Land, released in 1982.

Every genre Miles Davis touched in his five-decade career brought to life a new generation of artists who understood the importance of contamination and artistic evolution. The Prince of Darkness paved the way that jazz musicians are still following today: the ultimate testament to the creative restlessness of one of the most incredible musicians ever to exist”.

Last year, IOL celebrated Mile Davis at ninety-nine. As they note, Davis was a “cultural icon, sonic philosopher, and the shapeshifter of the 20th century’s musical identity”. Someone whose genius and innovation is still shaping music. On what would have been his one-hundredth birthday, I know that others will be exploring his legacy and genius. I think there are people who still turn their noses up at Jazz and define it with one thing. Look at an artist like Miles Davis, and he took Jazz in new directions. In terms of his evolution and experimentation. There will be an album for everyone:

“The Reluctant Genius

Miles Davis was not a man to explain himself. He played, and we listened. His genius lay in his ability to intuit what the times required musically, and to deliver it before the rest of us even knew we needed it. From his early bebop collaborations with Charlie Parker, through Birth of the Cool, Kind of Blue, Sketches of Spain, Bitches Brew, and into his later funk and fusion experiments, Miles never repeated himself.

He led, often in silence, with sunglasses on, back turned to the crowd, allowing the music to be the only sermon preached.

He understood music as motion. “Don’t play what’s there, play what’s not there,” he said once. A mantra that could well be applied to social transformation and leadership. Miles believed in the becoming of things. That spirit of resistance to stasis is what makes him feel more alive today than most of the artists working now.

The revolutionary without a banner

Unlike some of his contemporaries, Miles Davis never positioned himself as a spokesman for Black America, yet his entire being was a refusal of subservience. He carried his dignity with an unyielding confidence, one that infuriated white America’s expectations of Black deference.

He dressed impeccably and challenged journalists, demanded equal pay, and lived large. He expected greatness and returned the favour by delivering it.

His presence in the civil rights era and later during the Black Power movement was more symbolic than vocal. Still, his art thundered louder than most speeches. Albums like On the Corner and Dark Magus were sonic revolts, full of dissonance, distortion, African polyrhythms, and urban edge. Prefiguring hip-hop, Afrobeat, and much of contemporary protest music.

In an era where artists are asked to use their platforms more responsibly, Miles Davis’s legacy urges them to understand that sometimes the most radical thing one can do is to refuse limitation, to make uncompromised art that challenges, confronts, and uplifts all at once.

The African connection

Although Miles Davis never physically set foot on the African continent, Africa pulsed through his work. From the modal compositions of Kind of Blue to the Afro-futuristic landscapes of Bitches Brew. His music mirrored the spirit of African improvisation: fluid, rooted in call and response, and resistant to strict Western forms.

In conversations with Bra Hugh, it became clear that Miles’s influence on African musicians was immense. Hugh often recalled how Miles encouraged him to find his sound, to stop trying to mimic the American jazz idiom and instead blend it with South African traditions.

That advice birthed masterpieces like Stimela and Grazing in the Grass. In this way, Miles did not merely influence Africa from afar, he catalysed a whole generation of African sonic self-determination.

Today, one hears echoes of Miles in the works of artists like Fela Kuti, Khaya Mahlangu, Manu Dibango, and even contemporary Afro-jazz and amapiano fusionists. His boundary-blurring sensibility fits perfectly with the spirit of Africa, where tradition and futurism walk hand in hand.

Lessons for the present

As we stare into the fog of modernity, with algorithms dictating taste, culture succumbing to trend cycles, and musicians often commodified before they are even seasoned, Miles offers crucial lessons:

  • Evolve or Perish: Miles was never afraid to shed his skin. Artists, thinkers, and leaders alike must resist the temptation of nostalgia and embrace growth, however uncomfortable.

  • Master Your Craft: He practised relentlessly. Miles reminds us that genius is not divine accident; it’s discipline, obsession, and listening deeply to the world.

  • Silence Is Power: His pauses were as profound as his notes. In a world of noise, his restraint teaches the value of considered expression.

  • Be Unapologetically You: Davis never pandered. He didn’t dilute his identity to please anyone. That kind of sovereignty, artistic and personal, is rare and urgently needed today.

  • Mentor the Next Wave: From John Coltrane to Herbie Hancock, Wayne Shorter to Marcus Miller, Miles surrounded himself with brilliance and helped others soar. He knew leadership meant creating room for others to lead.

  • There was a mysticism about Miles. He walked like he was from another realm. His raspy voice, his cryptic interviews, his love of painting, boxing, and silence, all made him something of a philosopher-artist.

He believed that music could heal, disturb, elevate, all in one phrase. His trumpet was an oracle. And for those of us who came to jazz through African ears, Miles was a griot of the future, reminding us that freedom isn’t a final destination but a constant state of improvisation”.

I want to finish off with Pollstar and their feature on Miles Davis at one-hundred. There is so much more I could have brought in when it comes to Miles Davis and his music. However, I wanted to combine some features that explore his legacy and how he changed the musical landscape. As he would have celebrated a century on 26th May, many are reflecting on his rare brilliance and incredible talent:

“The surfeit of iconic musicians Davis collaborated with is astonishing: The Birth of the Cool Nonet (1949–1950) with Gerry Mulligan, Lee Konitz, and Max Roach; First Great Quintet (1955–1958): John Coltrane (tenor sax), Red Garland (piano), Paul Chambers (bass), and Philly Joe Jones (drums). Later added Cannonball Adderley on sax. Kind of Blue Sextet (1959): John Coltrane, Cannonball Adderley, Bill Evans/Wynton Kelly (piano), Paul Chambers, and Jimmy Cobb (drums). Second Great Quintet (1964–1968): Wayne Shorter (tenor sax), Herbie Hancock (piano), Ron Carter (bass), and Tony Williams (drums). Known for post-bop and experimental, modal jazz. Fusion/Electric Period (Late 1960s–1970s): Included John McLaughlin (guitar), Chick Corea (keys), Joe Zawinul (keys), Dave Holland (bass), and Jack DeJohnette (drums), creating the groundbreaking Bitches Brew. 1980s Electric/Funk Group: Featuring Marcus Miller, Mike Stern, John Scofield, and Mino Cinelu, focusing on funk and pop-influenced rock.
Davis was musically omnivorous tastes and has cited influences from non-jazz artists like Jimi Hendrix, James Brown, and B.B. King. He played with a number of R&B/soul vocalists that included Chaka Kahn, Erykah Badu, Bilal and Leidisi as well as blues great John Lee Hooker and mega stars like Prince, Stevie Wonder and Sting. In April 1970, the Miles Davis Quintet famously opened for the Grateful Dead during a four-night run at the Fillmore West. His influence on contemporary is vast and includes a wide swath of hip-hop artists: The Notorious B.I.G., OutKast, J Dilla, Kendrick Lamar, Madlib and A Tribe Called Quest, who all sampled his work.

The various record labels that were stewards of Davis’ catalog are also part of the Centennial celebration. In January, Legacy Recordings, the catalog division of Sony Music Entertainment, released Miles Davis – The Complete Live at the Plugged Nickel 1965, returning the landmark recordings to vinyl and CD for the first time in three decades. In addition, Universal Music Group’s Blue Note Records, Warner Music Group’s Rhino, and Concord’s Craft Recordings will issue a number of releases throughout the year.

“There’s tons of music for people to explore,” says Davis. “And since Miles’ catalog is spread out over four or five labels it gives people a chance to hear from different eras.”

Just ahead of the Centennial last September, Reservoir acquired 90% of Davis’ publishing catalog and rights and royalties from his recoded music. While a figure was not released, the purchase was reportedly estimated at $40 million to $60 million. And a strategic purchase due to the sync/licensing potential for film, TV and luxury brands and the global attention around the Centennial.

“It was both an honor and a privilege for Reservoir to acquire the Miles Davis catalog at such a pivotal moment,” says Golnar Khosrowshahi, Founder and CEO of Reservoir. “Together with the Davis Estate, we approached the Centennial as a celebration of his extraordinary legacy and an opportunity to bring Miles into new musical and cultural spaces, ensuring he continues to influence artists and inspire audiences for the next 100 years.”

The caretaker and artistic hand behind the live part of the Davis legacy is his nephew Vince Wilburn, Jr., drummer, producer and founder/bandleader of M.E.B. (Miles Electric Band) and a Miles’ band member in the 1980s. Wilburn played on and co-produced legendary albums including the Grammy-winning AURA, Decoy and You’re Under Arrest. As a producer, he spearheaded the biopic “Miles Ahead” and the Emmy-winning documentary “Miles Davis: Birth of the Cool.

“It was exciting being on the road and playing with Uncle Miles,” offers Wilburn. “Friends that I grew up with were in the band – Darryl Jones, Robert Irving III. We had a band in Chicago and being on the road meant being out with my friends and an icon. And what was amazing was the effect that Uncle Miles would have on audiences all around the world – in countries where they didn’t speak the language, but the music was universal.”

Touring since his late teens, Wilburn recalls watching Davis from behind the drum kit.

“The audiences were hypnotized,” Wilburn says. “He had a wireless mic so he could go across the stage. And you could feel the energy and the eyes following him wherever he was on stage.”

Today, the stellar M.E.B. ensemble is focused on anchoring major U.S. jazz festivals and cultural events including tastemaker Big Ears Festival March 29 in Knoxville, Tennessee; Jazz St. Louis on April 8; Santa Monica International Jazz Festival May 9; and the Atlanta Jazz Festival kickoff on May 22 before international dates in Winnipeg, Canada, and Budapest, Hungary this summer.

On Feb. 25, the band headlined “Miles Davis Night” at the Miami Beach Bandshell during Montreux Jazz Festival Miami. Davis performed at the Montreux Jazz Festival in Switzerland 10 times between 1973 and 1991. His final appearance was captured in the landmark recording Miles & Quincy: Live at Montreux. Davis died three months after the festival on Sept. 28, 1991.

“Uncle Miles loved going to Montreux and he loved Claude Nobs, they were tight. And Quincy Jones was a close friend of ours,” says Wilburn. “Quincy and Uncle Miles did the recording in Montreux and that was one of his last performances in 1991, so when were asked to be part of this, we were very honored.”

With M.E.B. performing alongside the stellar Kind of Blue Acoustic Band, the Miami Montreux tribute featured an array of special guests including Jojo, Lalah Hathaway, Maurice “Mobetta” Brown, Gonzalo Rubalcaba, Ibrahim Maalouf and Sammy Figueroa who played with Davis and recorded on The Man with the Horn), backed by a breathtaking collection of Miles Davis alumni – Jones, Irving (aka Baabe), Munyungo Jackson and Jean-Paul Bourelly – with an array of jazz mavericks including Jason Kibler (aka DJ Logic), Greg Spero, Rasaki Aladokun, Antoine Roney and Keyon Harrold.

“We don’t want to be perceived as a tribute band,” says Wilburn. “We are just trying to have the audience experience our love for Uncle Miles and the musicians before us. This amazing music is our interpretation and we invite people to come with an open mind.”

Preserving the legacy while embracing the future is funneled through a single lens.

“We always say, ‘For the love of The Chief’ because that’s what we used to call Uncle Miles – affectionately The Chief,” confides Wilburn. “That’s in our heart, ‘For the love of The Chief.’” Through the efforts of M.E.B. and the Miles Davis Estate, an appreciation for The Chief is reaching new audiences and the next generation of trumpeters including Marquis Hill.

“When I reflect on the impact that Miles Davis has had on me, a wide range of thoughts and emotions surface,” says Hill. “But above all, one idea stands out – Miles embodies the archetype of pure originality. His originality wasn’t limited to sound – it extended to concept, composition, approach, bandleading and beyond. Through his work, Miles shows us that one of the most essential elements of this music is an unapologetic knowledge of self.”

Davis’ creative self-expression can be found throughout the Centennial, which runs through May 26, 2027. Managing the overall vision is The Miles Davis Estate, which is overseen by Davis’ daughter Cheryl Davis, her brother and Wilburn alongside General Manager Darryl Porter and Attorney Charles J. Biederman.

We Are (MIles’) Family: Erin Davis (Son of Miles Davis), Cheryl Davis (Daugher of Miles Davis) and Vince Wilburn Jr.(Nephew of Miles Davis) at the Miles Davis ‘The Art of Cool’ VIP Reception at the Napa Valley Museum on June 7, 2013 in Napa, California. (Photo by Earl Gibson III/WireImage)

The calendar is full of Estate-sanctioned events and various pop-up tributes honoring Davis as a cultural icon. This includes Laufey, the sublime Gen-Z Icelandic Chinese jazz vocalist whose helping revive jazz for a younger generation is giving her take on “Blue in Green” a seminal jazz ballad from the masterpiece Kind of Blue

Beyond music, Davis – who was ranked No. 1 on GQ’s list of Most Stylish Musicians of All Time – was the inspiration for Milan fashion label Off White’s March 5 fall show during Paris Fashion Week, titled “Mr. Davis.”

The estate is executive producing a feature film titled Miles & Juliette, starring Damson Idris (F1) as Miles Davis and Anamaria Vartolomei (Mickey 17) as Juliette Gréco. Directed and co-produced by Bill Pohlad, alongside producers Mick Jagger and Victoria Pearman, the film chronicles Davis’ first trip to Paris and his romance in the ‘40s and ‘50s with the city and the French singer/actress.

Perryscope, the Estate’s official global merchandising and brand licensing partner, has struck a deal with men’s premium retailer John Varvatos for Davis-themed apparel items.

Other partnerships include a recently released Lexus commercial featuring Davis’ Kind of Blue vinyl cover and a co-branded Miles Davis Centennial cigar lighting up later this year from premium cigar and accessories company Ferio Tego.

“We’ve always felt his music lines up so well with luxury items, the luxury lifestyle, the Miles lifestyle, if you will,” says Davis.

Simon & Schuster will publish a Centennial edition of Miles: The Autobiography. Originally published in 1989, the critically-acclaimed autobiography will be released with new cover and forwards to be revealed soon.

“Sometimes it’s a struggle to get it done,” says Davis of the effort behind curating the career-spanning Centennial. “But when it happens, it’s always beautiful.”

With his enduring impact on style and sound, it’s not surprising that a long list of cultural organizations, orchestras, jazz festivals and venues – from The Jazz Room in Charlotte, North Carolina, to Lincoln Center in New York – are planning tributes of their own including Carnegie Hall’s ongoing United in Sound: America at 250 series—to a Miles Davis-themed week of performances in San Francisco by SFJazz.

“Trumpeter Miles Davis was a pioneering and influential artist known for pushing the boundaries of jazz,” says Clive Gillinson, Executive and Artistic Director of Carnegie Hall. “He performed at Carnegie Hall eight times throughout his career, including his landmark 1961 concert with his close collaborator Gil Evans, which was recorded and released to wide acclaim as the live album Miles Davis at Carnegie Hall.”

Carnegie Hall will celebrate the Centennial May 8 with a United In Sound concert in Zankel Hall featuring Grammy-winning trumpeter and M.E.B. mainstay Keyon Harrold. Carnegie Hall and longstanding partner the iconic Apollo Theater will also present “Muted Genius: Celebrating Miles Davis at 100,” a weekend of film, music and conversation exploring Davis’ legacy in May.

“We’re delighted to feature these events as part of United in Sound – coming together to mark this important milestone and celebrate a quintessentially American artist,” adds Gillinson.

“We are very happy it’s being received so well,” Davis said of the way the greater industry is embracing the Centennial. “If they want us to be a part of it, we’ll try to be a part of it. If not, that’s ok, too. We’re just happy people are celebrating”.

Aside from articles being run, there is also radio coverage of his one-hundredth birthday. As Jazzwise write, there is going to be a week-long celebration of Miles Davis. I do think that anyone who has avoided his music or feel like they would not enjoy it needs to investigate it. Listen to a few of his albums:

“Highlights include Sound of Cinema (23 May, 4pm), focusing on Davis’s soundtrack for Louis Malle’s 1958 thriller Ascenseur pour L’Échafaud. On Sunday 24 May (4pm), Alyn Shipton presents Jazz Record Requests: Miles Davis at100, featuring newly remastered tracks from Ascenseur pour L’Échafaud and Birth of the Cool, plus interviews with former band members including bassist Dave Holland and guitarist George Benson. From Monday to Friday (4pm), Kate Molleson and US critic Nate Chinen explore Davis’s five-decade career in Composer of the Week, covering his early years, Kind of Blue, the Second Great Quintet (featuring Wayne Shorter, Herbie Hancock and Tony Williams), the electric fusion period, and his 1980s rebirth with bassist-producer Marcus Miller. Evenings bring The Essay: Miles Beyond (9.45pm) with writer Kevin Le Gendre examining Davis’s impact on politics, fashion and technology, plus ‘Round Midnight (11.30pm) hosted by Soweto Kinch featuring musicians Byron Wallen, Cassie Kinoshi, Marquis Hill and Emma Jean Thackray. Friday’s Late Junction (10pm) pairs trumpeter Laura Jurd with poet Anthony Joseph”.

You can feel and hear Miles Davis’s influence on modern music. Throughout so many different genres. Artists from Hip-Hop, Jazz and beyond who owe a debt to him. This incredible musician is one of the most influential…

WE have ever seen.

FEATURE: Spotlight: Jyoty

FEATURE:

 

 

Spotlight

PHOTO CREDIT: Asafe Ghalib

 

Jyoty

__________

THIS incredible D.J…

is currently on a North American tour. Someone who I would love to see and witness one of her sets, I am highlighting her, because I feel like she is one of the best and most inspiring D.J.s in the world. Although I cannot source any interviews from this year, there are some from last year. However, to start out, I am heading back to 2024. NYLON spoke with Jyoty (Jyoty Singh) and her incredible career. They note how “Her friends call her “Little Miss I Played It First” for a reason”. Sets that are so distinct and original, she stands out from her peers. There are sections of the interview I want to drop in:

“If you had an “about me” section on your website, what would it say?

It’s so funny because there is a bio in my press kit, [and] every time I see it, I get so cringey. “She’s built up on a following around the world because of her...” I get it, but no. I would say my “about me” is just, I am a big music fan and a big music consumer. And through the trajectory of what the universe wanted, I have now become a bit of a chaotic human algorithm of putting listeners in touch with artists. That’s the best way I could put it.

You grew up in the Netherlands. What were the club, music, and nightlife scenes there like?

It was amazing. I started clubbing when I was 15, I think. [I was] in a city that is a main stop for many touring artists. We have a lot of smaller venues, and that’s how I got into clubbing. I started going to more hip-hop, rap, dancehall, R&B parties. Around 18, I fell into electronic music through U.K. garage, then fell into two-step and dubstep, and next thing you know, I was going to techno raves.

Does it still feel fun for you to find new stuff?

Every day when I find an actual new banger, [I] get a rush. My friends call me “Little Miss I Played It First.” It’s a rush seeing a crowd react to a song they’ve never heard before, and you know they’ve never heard it before because either it was sent to you or [you] found it on SoundCloud, and it only had 200 or 300 plays.

I’m glad you mentioned TikTok. What are your thoughts about DJing and how it lives on the platform?

I will very honestly say that you can blow up on TikTok, and we’re seeing that with DJs. I went viral on TikTok before I even had a TikTok account; someone posted a clip of my Boiler Room [set], and it went viral. And it’s great until it’s no longer great. Everyone films their sets now. Everyone’s playing drop after drop after drop. The groove is slowly disappearing amongst the TikTok DJs. But I think pre-going-viral, it’s a great way for DJs to experiment, to play, and to get their sound out”.

Let’s move to NOTION and their interview from last August. Speaking with the sensation Jyoty, they sat how “Whether she’s behind the decks or putting together an outfit, Jyoty is all about keeping you guessing. Never playing by the rules, we chat about producing her own music, opening doors for the next generation and finding her own sense of style”. One of the most extensive interviews with Jyoty, last year was a huge one for her:

“Jyoty herself is approaching a decade behind the decks: a milestone she half-jokingly considers the minimum requirement before she can actually call herself a DJ. But don’t let the modesty fool you. Over the last few years, she’s been everywhere, from setting stages alight with genre-hopping sets to launching Homegrown – her own club night where she books the acts, promotes the party, and shuts it down on the decks.

And yet, when we connect on a late afternoon video call, what hits hardest isn’t her resume, it’s her humility. She leans into the screen with the kind of warmth that cuts through WiFi lag. “I think it’s an older generation thing,” she says, musing on the art of DJ etiquette. “My whole heritage is radio. I’m part of a generation that, as a party-goer, you adapt. If the DJ after you plays slower, you meet them at the end of your set.”

But if you’re trying to predict where Jyoty’s set will end, good luck. Her sonic journeys are anything but linear. One moment it’s an Afrobeat-laced dancehall groove, the next it’s 140 BPM mayhem; R&B slides in; grime crashes through. Then, out of nowhere, a Punjabi radio belter flips the switch.

For Jyoty that eclecticism isn’t strategic, it’s instinctual. “I don’t play sounds leading with intentions,” she says. “It’s organic.” Born and raised in west Amsterdam to Punjabi Indian parents, Jyoty’s musical universe was never small. She grew up hustling, waiting tables at her dad’s restaurant at 11, blowing up her mum’s phone bill with MTV request lines before school, sneaking into clubs as a teenager with military precision, and working at a sneaker store, where a parallel love for streetwear was born.

Later came London: university – a master’s degree in political science and philosophy – then office jobs and executive assistant roles. But everything changed when she found herself at Rinse FM. She pitched her own show, landed a Thursday afternoon slot, and started building a cult following that would soon spill offline. In 2019, the internet caught fire over a chaotic, electric Boiler Room carnival special set and Jyoty became a household name, for a set she’s still unsure about. “I can’t even listen back to it,” she laughs, half-embarrassed. “Technically, I didn’t know how to DJ at that time. It sounded so bad. No one expected it to blow up like it did and suddenly I was having to explain to the world, ‘Hey, that’s not even my real sound.’”

PHOTO CREDIT: Alex Rorison

What remains consistent – regardless of the city or the crowd – is that Jyoty plays music with roots. Her sets aren’t meticulously scripted; instead, she selects tracks based on instinct, mood, and cultural resonance. There’s a reverence in the way she DJs, a deep respect for the sounds and scenes that raised her, always paying homage to the source. That same energy fuels her mission to lift others up. She’s constantly plugging rising talent on her socials, booking them at Homegrown, and now teaming up with us, eBay and All Points East to hand the aux to the next wave. One lucky DJ will share a bill with Chase & Status, Nia Archives and Jyoty herself alongside many more notable names, a chance that could change everything.

However, if you thought Jyoty was settling into her spot at the top, think again. As she gears up to turn 35 this month, she’s charging headfirst into a new frontier: production. After sitting in sessions as an executive producer, she had a revelation: ‘Why direct from the sidelines when I could produce myself?’ So she called up her best friend back in Amsterdam and began learning from scratch, a process she describes as transformative: “It’s made me appreciate music in a totally different way. I’m doing it for the love of it, rather than anything else,” she says.

The result is two self-produced EPs set to release later this summer. One’s a sweaty late-night ode to club culture, the other a more intimate exploration of her love for R&B. She’s candid about the uncertainty that comes with releasing something so personal, but she also recognises the creative growth it brings. “I’m not sure how I feel about it yet, but all my friends who have been making music longer than me say that you don’t really improve until you’ve actually released your work. That’s when you learn the most.”

You’ve picked up gems and influences from cities across the world, but what’s your personal connection to secondhand fashion? How have past jobs, travels, or even growing up shaped your love for pre-loved style?

If you ask any stylists I work with, they would all tell you about my love for particular vintage designer items. I collect a lot of Prada, Tom Ford, Gucci, as well as items from Moschino, [Roberto] Cavalli and Versace all usually from the nineties to early noughties. If you go into my wardrobe, you’ll see that I own more pre-loved items than anything else. Over the years, I’ve been building up my collection of vintage items from around the world. Now, I’d much rather go shopping in a vintage store than a high-street store.

PHOTO CREDIT: Alex Rorison

Of course, authenticity has always been at the core of your artistry. Why is authenticity so central to your journey, and why does it matter now more than ever?

Everyone I look up to who may be described as being “authentic” is just doing what feels natural to them. They’re doing their own thing, changing as the tides change with them and not being swayed in every direction. I think people find me authentic because I never know what I’m doing and I let people know that. I’m figuring out things as I go. I never have the answers and I never pretend to have them. I’m constantly looking back at myself thinking ‘What the fuck was I doing?’ and I share that with people. In my music sometimes there is no deeper story and that is what’s authentic. I’m not romanticising what I do and I’m vocal about that. I have a lot of peers in the industry who are very reserved and let their work speak for themselves as the proof is in the pudding. I find that really authentic.

Your unpredictable sets are what you’re known for, but there’s always something unmistakably you in the mix. What’s the thread that ties every Jyoty set together, no matter where you’re playing?

Over the last few years, I haven’t prepped a single set. I make a folder based on new tracks that have come out in the city that I’m performing in, but that’s it. I don’t prep material as sonically I’ve changed so much over the years. Take my first Boiler Room set in 2019, I was only two years into DJing. Technically, I didn’t know how to DJ at that time. It sounded so bad. No one expected it to blow up like it did and suddenly I was having to explain to the world, ‘Hey, that’s not even my real sound.’

I’ve built an audience that knows my sets are always full of surprises. You never quite know what to expect, and if you want to keep up, you’ll have to follow along to hear the sounds I’m currently into. That said, I always tailor my sets to fit the time and place I’m performing. If I’m on at 3pm at a festival, I’m going to look at the DJs directly before and after me and fit perfectly in the middle. But if you see me in the same city at 10pm that day, I’m going to sound completely different.

Not many DJs would take the time to blend in so thoughtfully, what makes that important to you?

I think it’s a lot of an older thing. My whole heritage is radio. I’m part of a generation that, as a party-goer, you adapt. If the DJ after you plays slower, you meet them at the end of your set. There is always a little courtesy. I only do that because it happened to me when I was younger. But often I go on after a newer DJ who plays super hard. I don’t care if they play super hard. You do you, I’ll just reset the room. It’s not a make or break for me, but it makes me feel more comfortable when I keep it in mind for the next act.

You’ve come such a long way, and it sounds like you’re still just getting started in some ways. What’s keeping you inspired right now, and where do you hope the road takes you next?

I have no clue what next year looks like or the short-term future. But what I do know is that I still love being a DJ. Personally I have to hit the 10-year mark before I decide it’s not for me. I can’t tell you what kind of DJ I am as I’m still figuring that out stylistically. I see myself furthering my work as a producer over the next few years and hopefully returning to my Rinse FM show. I know that I’m not going to be erased from my DJ roots if I keep on creating, advancing and consuming within the scene. As long as I’m on the dancefloor I’m going to be contributing something of value behind the decks”.

In another incredible and deep interview, DJ Mag spent some time with a remarkable D.J., artist and producer. A force of wonder who has been unstoppable over the past few years, her uncategorisable sound and energy-filled sets has made her such a celebrated D.J. Jyoty spoke with DJ Mag about “diversifying dancefloors, the difficulties of internet fame, and her mission to change the accepted narrative of how to be a successful artist in 2025”:

“She’s also been going through the daunting task of putting her producer hat on. She’ll be releasing a double EP towards the end of September, a total of 10 tracks that she’s developing as we speak. It’s not just music for the dancefloor, she says, rather an outline of the styles that have shaped her thus far: five “soulful” tracks, all downtempo and lovey-dovey, matched with another five “club tunes”, all higher BPM, with heavy percussion, featuring hand-picked vocalists, and even some of her own vocals.

The release will not be completely unfamiliar; she’s dropped snippets in her radio shows on Rinse FM and NYC’s the Lot, as well as earlier versions during her club sets. And she isn’t new to the studio by any means, sitting in on sessions, and writing and producing with some of the world’s biggest names (though she wouldn’t dare put them in print).

She’s spent time honing her craft: piano lessons (she is nearing Grade 3), vocal lessons for the snippets of her singing that grace her tracks, and using Logic. “I was actually more interested in the songs that most people wouldn’t play in their DJ sets,” she shares. “I’ve been working on other people’s music for a while now: writing, co-producing, executive producing. Then I started moving more into the direction of music that feels closer to home.

“There are these ways people construct songs, and they all kind of live in different worlds after they get put out. Suddenly you go into the framework of all the songs you used to listen to as a kid, like all the R&B and soul song structures — these toolboxes that people use to approach making them. Like, ‘Oh wait, there’s a pre-chorus — how do I think of a pre-chorus?’ And then, ‘This is where a bridge goes’. I wanted to learn how to make a song in that way; that really took my interest.”

It’s this kind of pure artistic intention that balances out the star bookings and insatiable audience demand. For example, her time in NYC saw her perform all night at Bushwick’s Nowadays — one of her most enjoyable sets to date, she says. Though she’s been through countless venues even prior to her start in music, the tiny 350-cap club remains one of her favourites to spin in.

She’s the type of person to take note of the “feng shui” of the club, she says: where the bar sits in relation to the dancefloor, if the walkways make sense. Her love for Nowadays is in the little things: the club’s impeccable soundsystem, peak-intimacy size, no filming policy — a rarity in our clip-obsessed times — and its community of music-lover staff and attendees, who appreciate the peculiarities of creating a good listening space.

The journey to becoming that person has been a long one. Jyoty’s parents emigrated from Punjab to Amsterdam in the '80s, raising her in Bos en Lommer, in the west of the city. The word she continually uses to describe her upbringing is “diverse”. It was a majority Arab neighbourhood populated by Morroccans and Turks, “very working class, immigrant-heavy. I remember the first school class I was in, there was one white kid in the school picture,” she laughs. “That’s the neighbourhood that I came from.” This in turn bled into her musical upbringing. She’d take in Moroccan and Surinamese music attending the weddings of her neighbours, soak in the Netherlands’ trademark bubbling genre traversing the streets of her area, as well as the Caribbean and West African music popular with the local Black community.

Most of Jyoty’s future dreams don’t revolve around winning more accolades. She has goals of course: she’s keen to get involved in music supervision, scoring for film and TV, and of course, continuing her journey producing and working on her craft (she has a third EP ready to go, she says). But her main aim is still to recalibrate those opinions that attempt to pin artists and DJs like her down. Much of this is in changing the idea of what it means, feels or looks like to be a DJ — that you don’t have to be the youngest in the room, go viral everyday, be a white man, or release music (unless you want to, of course).

“I just want to keep showing people that you don’t have to subscribe to all these new made-up rules!” she says. “‘Oh, you have to release music to grow as a DJ’. Why? I’ve played with Ben UFO 20 times in the last month, and neither of us have released music. “Whatever I do, I just want to keep proving to people that you can choose to inhabit a lane within music, as long as you accept the consequences. I accepted that if I’m not going to keep posting clips that are going to be viral, [newer people will only discover me] in person and not so much online. That’s fine, and I’m happy with that. I think where things go wrong is where you want something, and you don’t want to also accept the consequences of those decisions. But I think it’s really important to just protect your sanity in this industry. And it’s working. I’m super happy in this moment, and I couldn’t have said that two years ago”.

I am going to end with ELLE Singapore. They interviewed Jyoty about her Asian tour and creative process. The final interview I am bringing in is fantastic. ELLE Singapore highlighted an incredible D.J. who revealed her “pre-show rituals and what she's looking forward to when she returns to Singapore”:

“Radio presenter and all-round cool girl, Jyoty Singh had zero intentions of becoming a DJ—and yet, she's one of the hottest names in music right now. It all started eight years ago when she responded to requests to mix at live shows after building a solid fanbase through her show on Rinse FM. One thing led to another, and then she found herself on the decks. Her first show may have fell flat, but that didn't stop her. Fuelled by this new-found passion, Singh decided to equip herself with the skills and knowledge required to succeed in this field—and she did. Enter JYOTY, the stage name Singh now goes by, a TikTok-viral Boiler Room phenomenon and internationally celebrated DJ whose genre-bending sets break new ground in electronic music and global club culture.

The 35-year-old Dutch-Indian, who grew up in West Amsterdam in the 90s with an appreciation for music of all type, has gone on to perform at renowned nightlife hubs such as Good Room in New York, Music Box in Lisbon, and Razzmatazz in Barcelona. As she jets across the globe, performing her genre-defying sets, she also makes it a point to give back to the community. For instance, she hosted a DJ workshop for women in Calcutta with the British Council and Wild City, an Indian music company, and a six-week course for young British Asian women aspiring to break into the industry.

What’s your creative process like?

Leaving everything to the very last minute, freaking out, having a mini meltdown, not sleeping, flinging it together in panic, handing it in, and never looking at it again. Unfortunately, that’s been the process since forever. I’ve accepted that that’s just how I work, and it’ll never change.

What’s been your biggest ‘pinch me’ moment so far?

Every single week, it’s something new. Whether spinning in a country, meeting a specific individual, a DM, a magazine article, a cover, an invitation, a crowd... the list goes on. This month, it's probably realising that I’ve finally made some songs that I enjoy listening to, and that at almost 35 years old, I still have the freedom to pick up new skills and work on them as part of my job. Unreal.

Your 2025 Asia Tour is bringing you back to Singapore. What are you looking forward to seeing or doing when you arrive on our shores?

Enjoying some chicken rice and fresh juice, please and thank you!

How do you want people to feel after they leave one of your sets?

Like they got whatever it was they needed from that night. For some, that could be the wildest night of their life, while for others, it's just relaxing in a back corner, discovering new sounds and bopping their head. Maybe it was to make an ex jealous, perhaps to escape stress from work, to scream and smile, or to shed a tear and wake up not remembering anything. Whatever you need, I've got you!”.

I shall wrap things up there. I do think that we will get more music and incredible output from Jyoty. She is touring North America right now. I would be interested catching a set if she is playing in the U.K. anytime soon. The buzz around her sets and her sound makes her an understandable modern-day great. A D.J. queen I was eager to spotlight, go and show love and support…

FOR the wonderous Jyoty.

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Follow Jyoty

FEATURE: Spotlight: Any Young Mechanic

FEATURE:

 

 

Spotlight

 

Any Young Mechanic

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EVEN though there are not…

many interviews online with the great Any Young Mechanic, I did want to spotlight them here. However, as they recently played the NME Stage at The Great Escape, they were highlighted. A band that you need to know about. In this NME feature, we get to know more about this incredible Australian band:

“Conceived in Adelaide’s intimate DIY scene, the group’s barnstorming, life-affirming folk demands to be seen live. The acoustic guitar, banjo and violin are their killer weapons, cut from the same cloth as Sports Team’s sarcastic pub-rock or “Black Country, New Road playing early Fleet Foxes songs”, in the words of drummer Jay Eliot Mee. The band world of south London that spawned BC, NR leaves a telling influence on the five-piece, who emphasise immediacy and imperfection more than committing to any particular sound.

‘There’s A New Place On The Market’ transforms a haunted house into a folk fairytale, while the playful high-tempo of ‘My House Divides’ is a certified bouncer, as meandering vocalist Sam Wilson babbles about pinot grigio and dog groomers. Both songs are taken from June’s incoming debut album ‘The Modern Shoe Is Ruining The Foot’, a title that sums up the vivid lyrical anecdotes scattered throughout. Now, they sail into Brighton on the back of latest single ‘Captain and Compass’, a hearty folk anthem readymade for the seaside.

“We are always trying to make music that confronts the world of today, and for us, that means emphasising liveness and the human quality of our music,” adds Mee. That’s a message we can get on board with and one you can receive straight from the horse’s mouth at the NME Stage”.

You need to follow Any Young Mechanic. This article provides a little more depth about this tremendous quintet. I am new to their work, so I am sort of playing catch up. After playing in the U.K., thewy have caught the eye of many who were unaware of them previously. I do hope that they come and play here more in the future:

“The band consists of Sam Wilson (vocals), Jachin Mee (drums, backing vocals), Thea Martin (violin and multi-instrumentalist), Allan McBean (double bass) and Luka Kilgariff-Johnson (guitar, banjo). They met while studying at the Elder Conservatorium in Adelaide, where they honed their musicianship and developed a shared curiosity for exploring sound beyond traditional boundaries. Influenced by Adelaide’s close-knit DIY scene as well as the new wave of British alternative music, Any Young Mechanic do not simply replicate folk traditions — they reinterpret them for the present day.

Their debut album, “The Modern Shoe Is Ruining The Foot”, was recorded in an almost documentary fashion, with the band playing together live in the studio, without edits or heavy production interventions. The result is a record marked by organic cohesion and immediacy, while the songs retain breadth, dynamic range and strong narrative depth. It is contemporary folk that feels both fresh and timeless”.

On 5th June, The Modern Show Is Ruining the Foot is out. I would urge everyone to check out the album. You can tell that Any Young Mechanic are going to be around for a very long time. Their songwriting so fresh and affecting. How you listen to their songs and you can instantly tell it is them. Lines and moments that stay with you for hours.

Bringing raw and imperfect human moments back to the Folk scene, Atwood Magazine talked with Any Young Mechanic in April. I do hope that everyone connects with this exciting band. One that I would like to see play live soon. There are a couple of other U.K. dates coming from the band. They play The Shacklewell Arma on 31st May before playing at the Elephant’s Head on 2nd June. Their upcoming album is going to be extraordinary: “Frontman Sam Wilson describes the record as an attempt to move beyond folk’s more predictable tendencies. “We are trying to make folk music for now,” he says. “Turning it on its head in a new, sometimes uncanny way, because we don't want to just do the old thing again”:

“This push and pull – between openness and obstruction, intimacy and distance – sits at the heart of “There’s a New Place on the Market.” The refrain circles back with a pleading insistence: “What have you got to hide / I only want to know you well,” a line that reads as both personal and political, aimed as much at another person as it is at the systems that shape the world around them. And yet, for all its lyrical weight, the band never lose sight of movement – the song “staggers onwards,” as they describe it, carried by a steady pulse that keeps it from collapsing under its own gravity. It’s this balance – live musicianship, emotional clarity, and a willingness to let imperfections breathe – that makes the track feel so fully alive, capturing the essence of a band that thrives in the space between control and release.

In candid conversation, vocalist and guitarist Sam Wilson admits that it’s been three long years since he first wrote this song, as well as much of the band’s record. “I know that I’d been listening to a lot of Pavement around the time of writing, and that it’s very hard to live in Adelaide without thinking about the con of the real estate market in some way,” he reflects.

The same raw immediacy, the same fascination with space, identity, and modern dislocation runs through the band’s growing catalog, each song adding new contours to the world they’re building. “Snug Barber” arrived first in a burst of wiry, off-kilter energy, its jagged imagery and uncanny phrasing (“Your bin bag is filled with razors / Rusted, snapped or blunt”) introducing a band unafraid to embrace mess, humor, and emotional contradiction all at once. It’s playful on the surface, but there’s a deep tenderness tucked inside its chaos – a belief, repeated like a mantra, that even in disarray, “you’re cut out for love.”

That emotional thread stretches and shifts across the subsequent singles. The feverish “My House Divides” leans into a more urgent space as violins sear and soar throughout, its lyrics tracing intimacy through shared domestic imagery before fracturing into multiplicity – “When my house divides… yours multiplies” – a line that feels both surreal and softly crushing, hinting at how connection can splinter just as easily as it forms.

Meanwhile, desire, disillusionment, and absurdity collide head-on in the dreamy “Pretty Strange World”: “I want a chest packed with loot… I want more than you,” Sam Wilson sings, before pulling back to question the very systems feeding that hunger – “what you’re selling me seems much too cheap.” Across these songs, Any Young Mechanic hone their perspective with each step, expanding their palette while holding tight to the same core impulse: To examine the structures we live inside – homes, markets, relationships, expectations – and expose the fragile, human truths hiding underneath.

“We love to play live. We love to play in the room. We love to make mistakes and listen back and see how they punctuate our recordings,” Luka Kilgariff-Johnson asserts. “This record has no overdubs, no stitched takes, what you hear is what was played, flubs and all. I think the record encapsulates the spirit of our approach to making music as a collective, and is a pretty honest document of how we sound, whether that be live, in-studio or otherwise.”

Zooming out, The Modern Shoe Is Ruining The Foot reads like a document of process as much as it does a debut – a record shaped by proximity, trust, and the friction that comes from five people learning how to move as one. These songs don’t chase perfection; they preserve it in motion, holding onto the cracks, the hesitations, the fleeting moments where instinct takes over and the music breathes on its own. Across its growing preview, the album reveals itself as a study in modern discomfort – how we live, what we inherit, and the quiet negotiations we make with the systems surrounding us – all filtered through a band intent on keeping the human element front and center.

That intention runs deeper than aesthetic. As Sam Wilson shares, “The album is important to me as an attempt to explore the ways in which I feel uncomfortable with aspects of modernity. I tried to explore that discomfort without the cliche of turning towards conservatism. How do you express your discomfort with technology as a progressive? We’re in an unusual time where a good chunk of technology represents harmful desires from a few powerful people. For a long time (especially in music), technological advancement and artistic progress were ubiquitous. Now I’m not so sure.”

Every note feels inhabited, every line delivered with the weight of five people listening to one another in real time, responding, adjusting, trusting the moment enough to let it unfold as it is. There’s a rare kind of closeness at the heart of these songs – a warmth that doesn’t smooth over the rough edges, but embraces them, letting the frayed threads show. That rawness isn’t incidental; it’s the point. It’s what gives their music its pulse.

In a landscape increasingly shaped by precision and polish, The Modern Shoe Is Ruining The Foot stands as a reminder of what can happen when artists choose presence over perfection. These songs breathe. They stretch. They leave room for error, for instinct, for the fleeting magic that only exists when people are truly in sync with one another. And in doing so, Any Young Mechanic offer more than a debut – they offer a feeling: that music, at its core, is still a shared, human act.

That sense of presence – of five people meeting each moment as it comes – runs through every corner of Any Young Mechanic’s music, grounding even their most abstract ideas in something deeply felt and unmistakably human. It’s what makes their songs linger, not just as compositions, but as lived experiences captured in real time”.

This is a big moment for Any Young Mechanic. Their debut album is out on 5th June. I feel that The Modern Shoe Is Ruining the Foot will be among this year’s best debuts. A magnificent offering from a group that you have to listen to. The minute that you hear their phenomenal music, when you finishing hearing their songs, they will remain long…

IN your thoughts.

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Follow Any Young Mechanic

FEATURE: Spotlight: Iona Luke

FEATURE:

 

 

Spotlight

 

Iona Luke

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THIS artist is someone…

PHOTO CREDIT: Daisy Dickinson

that you really need to hear. I have not featured Iona Luke yet, though she is a tremendous talent. Having recently played Brighton’s The Great Escape, she is primed for great things. Her recent single, Existential, is extraordinary. I want to come to a few interviews with one of our brightest talents. In terms of her background, she studied English at Magdalene College, Cambridge. However, her path into music started way before now. Iona Luke started songwriting at thirteen as a member of the prestigious Capital Children’s Choir. This incredible musicianship is going to be a big name soon enough. Apologies if I bring in any interviews that repeat what comes before. I am starting out with Varsity and their chat with the incredible Iona Luke:

“Like many, COVID-19 and its subsequent lockdowns were transformative for Iona. Via an online cover posted with the Capital Children’s Choir, she was noticed by Lana Del Rey in her first ever TikTok. She honed her craft of songwriting during the pandemic, deciding to take a gap year and gig in London, before being met with either the choice of the Royal Northern College of Music or Cambridge University.

After listening to her two singles, ‘Seventeen’ and ‘Violence’, it seems that this praise is entirely warranted. With powerhouse vocals and unmatched musicality, Iona is unafraid to redefine herself and be led by her artistic impulses. “Genre in itself is a made-up thing,” she told me, expressing that the only effect it has is, if an artist releases music of two different genres, it can be algorithmically detrimental to pulling in new listeners. Asking Iona if I could interview her, I never knew I would be talking algorithms in the Arc Café, but this evidences her dedication to her craft.

In her songwriting, Iona manages to capture a memory or feeling which is perhaps unique to her but, such is her skill, makes it applicable to all listeners. “The best songwriting is simultaneously specific and universal,” she said, highlighting that the more times you listen to a song, the more interpretations can be made, even within the same words. Iona agreed that the best kind of songwriters are the ones that can condense a large and complex concept into a single line, stating that “a picture says a thousand words.”

This can especially be seen in her song ‘Violence,’ which I interpreted as a song about a toxic love. In fact, Iona did not write it as such, making it intentionally applicable to many situations. “Most of my songs are not love songs,” she said, which I appreciated, as there are far more stories to be told than simply those of romance. Instead, Iona focuses on evoking a specific feeling and letting the listener do the rest.

Admittedly I, in probably constituting most of her streams, have well and truly been doing the rest. Nevertheless, Iona is no stranger to impostor syndrome, comparing herself to those who are younger and doing what she does now. On a positive note, she highlighted that artists like Charli XCX, Sabrina Carpenter and Chappell Roan (among others) are changing the approach labels are taking towards emerging artists.

“Social media has been teaching me good lessons in not caring, especially in a bubble like Cambridge”

She remarks that, for a period of time, TikTok changed the game where if a creator had a viral moment, they would be signed, meaning they did not think about the long game. These artists, however, have been working on their craft for years, redefining both what it means to be successful and the timeline for this success. Iona’s perspective on these artists, and others that she is inspired by, has clearly influenced her approach for the better.

“Social media has been teaching me good lessons in not caring, especially in a bubble like Cambridge,” she said, commenting on how her confidence has improved with practice both in performance and songwriting. This has also been helpful in finding her place in the industry, where writing so many songs has, in itself, streamlined her sound. Slow and steady wins the race, with Iona joking: “I’m not in a rush to be successful.” Still, I’m manifesting that critical acclaim and masses of popularity come quickly so that I can scream “this is not what I wanted / this is not what I need” (from ‘Violence’s’ killer outro) at a live event”.

I do hope that a lot more mainstream or bigger publications spotlight Iona Luke. Even if these are relatively new days for her in terms of releasing music, you know that she has the talent to go very far. I will jump to RTÉ and their interesting conversation. I am especially looking forward to a debut album. It will be fascinating seeing what comes next for Iona Luke:

“23-year-old Iona studied English literature at Cambridge University, while simultaneously building her career as a songwriter, signing a publishing deal with the B Unique record label and performing across the UK.

"In a madly oversaturated music space, figuring out where you stand and what you have to say is scary stuff," she says.

"When I had to decide whether I'd be 'Iona' or 'Iona Luke,' I repeated my name in my head too many times and had the mini existential collapse we all get when a word suddenly looks a bit funny.

Tell us three things about yourself . . .

A pretty defining moment for me so far was when Lana Del Rey created a TikTok account during Covid and her first video was of her singing along with my cover of Bel Air. For the first time I felt like I might be able to be a musician successfully, in a capacity that was more than a pipe dream. I cried for an embarrassingly long time after seeing it, and didn't actually have TikTok at the time, so I guess the social media side of my music journey started there.

I’m not sure if anyone other than me (and a few hardcore Patti Smith fans) would find this interesting, but I wrote my university dissertation on Smith’s work. To give a whistle-stop tour of it, the essay challenged the outdated (often gendered) tendency to read her songwriting and poetry as autobiography, rather than allowing it to be art and treating it with the same critical attention afforded to the contemporary male artists such as Bob Dylan, Lou Reed or Jack Kerouac.

Who are your musical inspirations?

My musical inspiration comes from a massive number of different people. I’ve always loved my ladies; Stevie Nicks, Beth Gibbons, PJ Harvey, Lana Del Rey and Patti Smith, but there are also some 90s bands like Massive Attack and singers with slightly quieter energy, like Elliot Smith and Jeff Buckley, that I really admire. I’m also inspired by poets that feel inseparable from music to me, such as Christina Rossetti, Emily Dickinson and W.B. Yeats. There’s some art that inspires me a lot too, I love Dante Rossetti and Salvador Dalí.

What was the first gig you ever went to?

The first gig I went to was The White Stripes at the Hammersmith Apollo in London, my parents took me and it was amazing. Jack White smashed his guitar and I thought I saw God. To this day Icky Thump is the song I listen to when I’m walking somewhere and I’m nervous, it’s a perfect strut song.

What was the first record you ever bought?

The first vinyl I bought was Norman F***ing Rockwell! by Lana Del Rey. It’s an unbelievable album, controversially I think it’s her best, though that involves me in a big Lana debate I’m not sure I’m ready for”.

I am finishing up with Mystic Sons. Getting to know Iona Luke and her background is really interesting. In terms of artists she admires, I do hope she gets to share the stage with Patti Smith and Stevie Nicks one day! It does sound like music was an early part of her life. Rather than copy her idols and those she heard young, Iona Luke has carved out her own identity:

“What was the first instrument you fell in love with?

Piano. Specifically the dark, atmospheric piano in Romantic music. My favourite thing to do is sit on the tube with a book and listen to the Romantics. It’s a bit basic but Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata is one of the greatest things to ever grace my ears; proof of the fact that some things are popular because they’re just damn good.

What kind of music did you love when you were younger?

When I was really young (10 and under) I loved any music that featured huge female vocals. I was obsessed with Beyonce, Adele, Rihanna, Gaga. All of those singers were why I started singing, if you could call it that… probably more like screaming. But on the other hand, we’d listen to loads of 90s band music in the car, so when I got a bit older I got more into Smashing Pumpkins, Green Day, Red Hot Chili Peppers and so on.

What was the first album you remember owning?

I think it was Rumours. To this day it’s one of my favourite albums of all time; another popular because it’s good situation.

What do you find is the most rewarding part about being a musician?

So far the most rewarding part is when people come up to me and say that one of my songs really meant something to them. A close friend of mine said that ‘Voices On The TV’ helped her through a bad time, and there’s nothing better than when something you’ve written helped them articulate a feeling that would have otherwise gotten a bit stuck. It’s like musical CPR.

And what is the most frustrating part?

Social media. It doesn’t come naturally to me at all, but you’ve got to suck it up and do it. I’ve been posting consistently for a while now and it’s so easy to get disenfranchised and numb to it, but I also understand that it’s how you connect to people in the modern world, so it is what it is. One day I’ll crack it, I’m sure, but for now people are going to have to watch me trying not to look grumpy and weird”.

Go and follow the magnificent Iona Luke. An artist that I have recently discovered, you can tell that she has many years ahead. Ensure that she is on your radar. I do feel we will be hearing a lot more about in years to come. This is an artist you cannot afford to overlook. Iona Luke is a…

WONDERFUL artist.

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Follow Iona Luke

FEATURE: Kate Bush: The Tour of Life: Might We Soon See a New Amazon Prime Documentary?

FEATURE:

 

 

Kate Bush: The Tour of Life

IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush in 2005/PHOTO CREDIT: Trevor Leighton

 

Might We Soon See a New Amazon Prime Documentary?

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ONE must always be a bit sceptical…

IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush received the Editors Award at the Evening Standard Theatre Awards at the London Palladium on 30th November, 2014/PHOTO CREDIT: Alan Davidson/Rex/Shutterstock

when it comes to rumours around Kate Bush. Especially regarding documentaries or T.V. projects. There were A.I.-generated articles and reports that Netflix were producing a Kate Bush documentary. There have been recent documentaries about her. I took part in one for French T.V. It was great fun. One of my ambitions is to feature in a big Kate Bush documentary. Even though there has been no official announcement, it does seem that a documentary is in the works. It will be for Amazon Prime. Yesterday (13th May), I saw a retweet from a Kate Bush fan site, FishPeople Kate Bush (@FishPeopleFC). They shared an Instagram post from producer Nicholas Bowen (it has since been deleted, though screenshots have been shared; this Facebook post suggesting it will be produced by Sophie Ellis-Bextor’s dad, producer/director Robin Bextor). This does not seem to be rumour or A.I. As this is coming from a real person, it is highly likely that we will get a properly huge Kate Bush documentary. There is not a release date or news of who will take part. I would expect it to be out late in the year, maybe towards Christmas, though that is pure guess. It does seem to be in the early stages. I wonder how many writers and journalists will take part. Not that I would ever be invited, though there are authors – such as Kate Bush biographer, Graeme Thomson -, and those outside of music that would make valuable contributors. Insights that few other can provide. The team at Kate Bush News giving their impressions and views on Kate Bush in the modern age. I suspect that the wheels might have started to turn after the success of Running Up That Hill (A Deal with God) in 2022 after it was used in Stranger Things. Documentaries take a long time to come together. For Amazon Prime, you suspect that there are going to be a lot of people involved. Major artists. Again, I am not sure who, though I keep writing about the brilliant albums made by modern greats that you can connect to Kate Bush.

I do not know if ROSALÍA, Björk, FKA twigs or Charli xcx will take part. It is all speculation and TBC right now. Because it is for Amazon Prime, I think it will have a different feel to the 2014 BBC documentary. The Kate Bush Story: Running Up That Hill coincided with her residency in Hammersmith. Before the Dawn was this incredible moment where Bush announced she would be performing on a stage that she first played in 1979. I suspect that there will be a mixture of clips and interviews with people who have worked with Kate Bush or admire her work. Will her brothers, John and Paddy speak? Might we see Kate Bush herself on camera? That is one of the most frequent comments around the documentary. Bush has not been seen on camera since the 1990s. In terms of a T.V. appearance. She has not been photographed publicly in over a decade. There are reasons for that, besides the fact she has not released an album since 2011. I feel Bush would have given support to the documentary, though the likelihood of her featuring is slim. Perhaps some audio at the start. The chance of her being shown and talking to camera seems remote. Most documentary makers want the artist to be involved in some form when it comes to documentaries. I have pitched Kate Bush documentaries and, without fail, they want Bush involved before they do anything. So it interests me how involved Kate Bush will be. Whether there be a mix of filming styles. I keep thinking about The Beatles and Paul McCartney. How there has been a Wings documentary, Man on the Run, which is about The Beatles and how the love he shared with Linda became his bedrock and influenced a journey that would lead to the formation of Wings. A new Paul McCartney album, The Boys of Dungeon Lane, is out on 29th May. This may be wishful thinking that an album will be announced around the time the documentary comes out.

For the longest time, I always assumed that any new Kate Bush documentaries would be smaller and from independent production companies. Given everything that happened after Stranger Things used her music, it is no shock that people would pitch a documentary. Kate Bush does say ‘yes’ to her music being used here and there. Though the thought of a documentary that has her in might have stopped everything in its tracks. Which makes me think that any contribution from her will be audio-only. Bush spoke with Emma Barnett for Today late in 2024. Stating she was keen to work on new music and had reached that point. Nice to hear Kate Bush speak and still have that enthusiasm and thanks for her fans. Though looking back at her career, is that something that she would want to do? In any case, an Amazon Prime Kate Bush documentary is hugely exciting. If it does happen. Though there is a post from someone involved, a dream is likely soon to become a reality. Whether out late this year or in 2027, fans will be incredibly intrigued by what form it will take. A multi-part series or a single documentary. I am looking ahead of 2028 and the fiftieth anniversary of Wuthering Heights (20th January) and The Kick Inside (17th February). Her debut single and album. At the moment, this is all speculation. A documentary looks very likely, though nobody knows when it will come, how long it will be and who will be involved. If Kate Bush herself plays any part. Though tis glimmer of light has whipped up excitement among fans. A Kate Bush documentary is not new, though one for Amazon Prime promises to be the biggest yet. Let’s hope there is an official announcement and details soon. How cool would it be to have a documentary announcement and an album one more or less at the same time?! Kate Bush is one of the most influential artists ever. A genius songwriter and producer, her legacy is enormous. She continues to inspire people across music and the arts. The least she deserves is a celebratory documentary. Announcements and fake posts have been made before and got our hopes up, yet this all seems like a genuine and very real thing. Kate Bush fans around the world will be holding their breaths…

WITH excitement!

FEATURE: Kate Bush: Them Heavy People: The Extraordinary Characters in Her Songs: Babooshka/Her Husband (Babooshka)/Emma (Don't Push Your Foot on the Heartbrake)

FEATURE:

 

 

Kate Bush: Them Heavy People: The Extraordinary Characters in Her Songs

IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush in an outtake from the single cover shoot for Babooshka in 1980/PHOTO CREDIT: John Carder Bush

 

Babooshka/Her Husband (Babooshka)/Emma (Don't Push Your Foot on the Heartbrake)

__________

THERE are other characters…

IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush captured in 1978/PHOTO CREDIT: RB/Redferns

I have not mined from Kate Bush’s 1980 album, Never for Ever, though I need to put the album aside, as it has been discussed more than any other, so I will come back to it in time. Though I want to write about Babooshka/Her Husband, as this incredible single, Babooshka, turns forty-six on 27th June. I thought I would use the opportunity there to talk about the single but the characters. Technically, the titular character of Babooshka is someone who is…well, I shall let Kate Bush give background to the song. For that, it is to the Kate Bush Encyclopedia:

“I love the melody line of the bass guitar on this song. We got through a lot of boxes of broken crockery to get the right sound at the end – the canteen ladies were not impressed.

It was really a theme that has fascinated me for some time. It’s based on a theme that is often used in folk songs, which is where the wife of the husband begins to feel that perhaps he’s not faithful. And there’s no real strength in her feelings, it’s just more or less paranoia suspicions, and so she starts thinking that she’s going to test him, just to see if he’s faithful. So what she does is she gets herself a pseudonym, which happens to be Babooshka, and she sends him a letter. And he responds very well to the letter, because as he reads it, he recognises the wife that he had a couple of years ago, who was happy, in the letter. And so he likes it, and she decides to take it even further and get a meeting together to see how he reacts to this Babooshka lady instead of her. When he meets her, again because she is so similar to his wife, the one that he loves, he’s very attracted to her. Of course she is very annoyed and the break in the song is just throwing the restaurant at him…  (…) The whole idea of the song is really the futility and the stupidness of humans and how by our own thinking, spinning around in our own ideas we come up with completely paranoid facts. So in her situation she was in fact suspicious of a man who was doing nothing wrong, he loved her very much indeed. Through her own suspicions and evil thoughts she’s really ruining the relationship. (Countdown Australia, 1980)”.

I do want to discuss the themes around infidelity in Kate Bush’s music, or how she is more trusting of men perhaps. I mentioned this when writing about Ran Tan Waltz recently. That was a B-side that is about a new wife and mother who is out at night with other men, whilst the husband is with the child. The sympathy falling with the man. Here, another song where the woman has made an error of judgement or pushed too far. The title of Babooshka is interesting. A slight misspelling of the Russian word for grandmother, babushka, a Kate Bush tribute act/experience is called Baby Bushka - https://www.babybushka.com/ -, that I would suggest you check out. In a separate interview with BBC Radio 1 in October 1980, Bush said the choice of title was coincidental: “there was an opera called Babooshka. Apparently she was the lady that the three kings went to see because the star stopped over her house and they thought “Jesus is in there”.’ So they went in and he wasn’t. And they wouldn’t let her come with them to find the baby and she spent the rest of her life looking for him and she never found him. And also a friend of mine had a cat called Babooshka”.

When thinking about the characters and how they seem to be taken from literature. Kate Bush took a lot from literature, T.V. and film. In the case of Babooshka, it does seem like this was an old work of fiction of folk story. I am not sure how exactly she came out with the idea and whether there was text linked to it. Bush said she presumed the inspiration was from a fairy story she heard as a child, though apparently not. After writing the song, she heard Donald Swan singing about Babooshka, so she assumed someone must be named it. What I love about the characters and dynamics of the song is that we never really know why the wife went to the trouble of disguising herself. Recorded between January and June 1980, during the recording sessions of Never for Ever, Babooshka features John Giblin on bass and marks the significance of fretless bass sounds as instrumental ‘male’ partners through Bush's music in the early eighties. That is from Wikipedia, but I think it is interesting about the significance of instruments and particular sounds that denote masculinity and femininity. In her more piano-led albums before Never for Ever, perhaps the piano was this symbolism of femininity or beauty and sexuality. Even if Babooshka is a light track in some ways and not too heavy, I did not really think about the composition and how that acts as a character or has this emotional dynamic and facet. What is key from Babooshka is that Bush was developing as a writer and producer. Producing with Jon Kelly, this track includes a breaking glass sound at the end. Maybe symbolising the breaking of trust or anger, it seems quite traditional and common to write a song about mistrust and deceit. Whilst we may feel the man is cheating and his wife is right to cast herself as this mysterious figure, she got the situation wrong. We do not know much about Her Husband, other than how he seems to be faithful but has caused soma paranoia. Bush not mistrustful of women in relationships. She might have reacted to a lot of songs where men and partners were vilified and blamed, so she wrote a track where the wife was very much culpable. How the husband gets the sense he knows Babooshka and it reminds him of “his little lady”. Or, “Just like his wife before she freezed on him”. Even though the wife couldn’t have made a worse move by testing her husband’s faith, at the end of the song, the husband seems to say that he is all yours. Like he is succumbs to Babooshka.

Does this mean he does love his wife, or did he technically cheat and was attracted to someone who was not his wife? I will address the video and live performances. When thinking of the characters, it is almost this gothic and tragic relationship. One could compare it to Kate Bush’s debut single, Wuthering Heights (from 1978’s The Kick Inside). Dreams of Orgonon examined the dynamic of Babooshka in their fascinating piece:

“In part, the success of “Babooshka” can be explained by its conceptual kinship with “Wuthering Heights”. Like Bush’s first single, “Babooshka” is a work of literary reverie, relating the dysfunction of a relationship through images derived from a preexisting work (in Babooshka’s case, the folk song “Sovay”). Both songs boast jealous women protagonists whose pathologies lead to a dramatic break in their romantic relationships. Yet while the two songs share DNA, they differ significantly in their songwriting and realization. “Wuthering Heights” is much poppier than “Babooshka.” It’s a deeply strange song, but it’s still a quintessential power ballad ending on a guitar solo. The instrumentation of “Babooshka” mixes a piano, a Yamaha CS-80 synth, and Paddy Bush’s balalaika. There are elements of pop in the song, such as its jazzy melody, but “Babooshka” telegraphs its weirdness from the get-go.

“Wuthering Heights” was a reunion of lovers. “Babooshka” relates the slow burn of a dysfunctional relationship, culminating in a glam psychotic break. The song’s title character acts as if Bush intended to finally write the Catherine of Brontë’s Wuthering Heights: a petty, jealous hooligan ruins her relationship with her partner in a frantic bout of possessiveness.  Her plan, of course, is barmy — Babooshka tests her husband’s loyalty by catfishing him through “scented letters” (not a great plan — what happens if Babooshka’s husband finds these letters on a desk while the lady of the house makes herself some Earl Grey? Somebody make a short film about this). Babooshka uses these letters to arrange a tête-à-tête between her husband and her assumed personality — “just like/his wife/but how she was before the years flew by.” The song is unclear on whether Babooshka is recognized by her husband, merely suggesting he gives into her whims (he’s absolutely a sub). Babooshka’s self-poisoning narcissism breaks their relationship, creating a process of martial recursion in which the fear of a relationship’s ending itself ends that relationship.

But what of the relationship’s nature? The details of the emotional split between the couple is expressed vaguely. “Babooshka” is predicated on its protagonist’s desire to “test her husband,” and only supplies the occasional detail on the couple’s relationship. When the husband reads the catfish letters (someone please write a biography of me and title it The Catfish Letters), he observes that she resembles his wife “before the tears/and how she was before the years flew by.” Evidently their marriage was happy at one point, before some cataclysm ruptured it and damned them to a joyless union. Before Babooshka turned to suspicion and jealousy, she had the “capacity to give him all he needs” (we could dedicate an entire piece to the fact that the husband obviously has a mommy kink, but let’s try to keep our readership here). Her scheme to win him over is an expression of desire to return to the joy of their early married years, an act of futile nostalgia. The fantasy she enacts is not simply toxic; it’s regressive and pitiful”.

Whilst Bush was not specifically inspired by a story or show, Dreams of Orgonon also theorise that a traditional English folk song might have influenced the story: Sovay, the Female Highwayman. The song (which Bush could have heard from A.L. Lloyd or her social circle of musicians) as they say, tells of a maiden who “dressed herself in man’s array,” pretends to be a highwayman, and holds her lover at gunpoint, demanding his treasures. The man gives Sovay his pocket watch but refuses to part with his precious engagement ring. Having seen her fiancé’s loyalty in practice, Sovay departs from him”. The video for Babooshka was an extraordinary step forward in terms of confidence and concept. The first single from Never for Ever, Breathing, was quite epic and filmic. However, Bush was with other people in the video and what makes Babooshka so eye-catching and memorable is that she is solo and transforms into this warrior princess in the chorus. In the vide, we see Bush beside a double bass (contrabass). That represents her husband. Bush, wearing a black bodysuit and a veil in her role as the embittered wife, is magnetic. She changed  into this extraordinary ‘Russian’ costume as her alter-ego, Babooshka. An illustration by Chris Achilleos was the basis for the costume. I think it is her boldest and perhaps best video that point. Those who felt Bush was this child-like artist and someone quite immature or naïve created this incredible thrilling and sexy video. One where she was very seductive and charged.

One interesting subject related to the promotion of Babooshka is the live performances. Largely mimed, how to bring the visuals of Babooshka to various sets and stages around the world. Performing on several European T.V. shows, her outing on the Dr. Hook television special (Bush appeared on a BBC special, hosted by American Rock band, Dr. Hook & the Medicine Show on 20th March, 1980). On her the right side, Bush “resembles a staid Victorian lady in mourning dress; on the left side a glittering, liberated young woman in a silvery jumpsuit, with bright lightning-streaks painted down the left side of her face. Her figure is lit so that only the “repressed” side of her costume is visible during the verses of the song, and mainly the “free” side during the choruses”. The Kate Bush Encycliopedia helping out once more. Her stagecraft and how she could reinterpret her own songs and change the visuals between performances was exceptional. Bush’s videos are remarkable and innovative. For T.V. shows where she well could phone it in and do something basic, she put so much thought into her performances and adding something new. A psychological edge or something that made you think. I keep thinking about Her Husband/Babooshka and that awkward situation. The wife maybe influenced by Sovay, the Female Highwayman. A really fascinating potential connection to that source. Kate Bush exploring relationships in different ways. Rather than simple love songs or ones where there is a messy break-up, she was perhaps less personal and found greater intrigue and interest in something fictional, literary or fantastical. By doing so, she did not lose relatability. Instead, nuance and layers to a brilliant song like Babooshka. Its ill-fated wife who is this Babooshka and fails to make her husband cheat. Her bad plan backfires.

Flipping to the second side of this feature, and let’s go back an album. I started by writing about the second single from Bush’s third studio album. Released in November 1978, Lionheart is her underrated second studio album. This character passed me by, as I must confess I have not listened to this Kate Bush song as much as others. Whilst Babooshka leads Never for Ever and was a single that reached five in the U.K., Don’t Push Your Foot on the Heartbrake was the penultimate song on the first side of Lionheart, and is a song that did not get a lot of appreciation or attention. Sandwiched between Wow and Oh England My Lionheart, was the sequencing right for the album? I will get to characters in a very underappreciated song, though thinking about the tone and feel of that run of three songs, Wow, Don’t Push Your Foot on the Heartbrake, and there are quite a few twists and turns. Maybe Kashka from Baghdad could come from track eight and be moved further up. I do feel that sequencing, if not completely right, can affect the whole album and how you appreciate certain songs. Even if Don’t Push Your Foot on the Heartbrake is highlighted as throwaway, this idea of Kate Bush doing a Patti Smith song is intriguing.

It makes me think about Kate Bush and Rock. Patti Smith released her extraordinary and hugely influential debut album, Horses, in 1975. No doubt, a seventeen-year-old Kate Bush would have heard that album and been struck by it. Though it may not sound exactly what Patti Smith would do, Don’t Push Your Foot on the Heartbrake is a rare occasion of Kate Bush going into more Rock and Post-Punk territory. Many associate her with piano Pop and this idea she was quite airy-fairy and slight. Maybe like The Beatles, Bush perhaps better or more synonymous with Pop than Rock. However, there were a few tracks through her discography where there was this Rock grit and punch. When Lionheart was released in November 1978, Punk was taking hold in the U.K. 1978 saw a move away from direct and raw noise to a more expansive and nuanced Punk sound. Art and Post-Punk coming in. Key albums from the year were Ray Spex’s Germfree Adolescents, Buzzcocks’ Another Music in a Different Kitchen, Wire’s Chairs Missing, and The Clash’s Give 'Em Enough Rope. It is commendable that Kate Bush wanted to add her voice in a small way. Or just write a song in the mould of an artist she admired. Think about Lionheart, and most of the songs are gentler and piano-led. She would provide some rare and ecstatic tracks on Never for Ever and The Dreaming. On Lionheart, Don’t Push Your Foot on the Heartbrake is a bit of a standout. Because it is a lot faster and gutsier. Coffee Homeground and Fullhouse are eccentric and have their own energy. Though nothing on Lionheart sits right alongside Don’t Push Your Foot on the Heartbrake.

I feel this song was written around the time Patti Smith’s Horses was released. I wrote a feature Kate Bush and songs inspired by other artists. Kite from The Kick Inside was inspired by Bob Marley. I do love how Don’t Push Your Foot on the Heartbrake was Bush’s attempt to write something in the mould of Patti Smith. Bush performed Don’t Push Your Foot On The Heartbrake on the Leo Sayer Show on 17th November, 1978 and on the 1979 Christmas special. The song was also included in the setlist of The Tour of Life. I am not sure who Emma is. Bush uses clever lyrics of the road and vehicles to articulate a breakdown or break-up. The ‘Heartbrake’ part of the title. “Emma’s been run out on/She’s breaking down/In so many places/Stuck in low gear/Because of her fears”. I love how Kate N Paddy (her brother) Bush harmonise. He is on slide guitar. I am curious who Bush had in mind when writing the song. Emma may have been a name she plucked out of thin air. “She’s only herself to blame/Well, take care of yourself/And remember Georgie/But she’s so O.D.’d on weeping/She can hardly see”. I could have included Georgie. Who is that?! Kate Bush rarely had named characters in her songs. Most of this series is of people without names. Here, we have two characters. The ill-fated heroine, Emma, who is spinning out of control. I am going to bring in a couple of features about the song. I want to come again to Dreams of Orgonon. Even though they do not especially like the song, they do make some interesting observations. Very little outside of this written about a track that I feel is much more interesting than people give it credit for. In terms of tonal shifts, there is much more of this than on The Kick Inside. How, “Lionheart is mostly leftovers, scraps of The Kick Inside and the Phoenix demos reheated in a French studio. Yet for all that gets made of its leftovers status Lionheart showcases a drastic tonal shift from The Kick Inside”.

It is interesting thinking about that Patti Smith tie-in. Perhaps Kate Bush felt like she had to give a music-related connection. Shout out someone who was very cool and edgy at a time when Bush was not considered as such. Giving gravitas or modern music relevance. Dreams of Orgonon write how a brilliant and hugely powerful piece of literature is more similar to Don’t Push Your Foot on the Heartbrake than you might hear on Horses, say:

“Smith’s Beat-influenced, raucous NYC-grounded style is about as far from Bush’s sophisticated weirdness as London’s punk scene. No, the Patti Smith influence on this song isn’t primarily aesthetic. It’s primarily a structural influence. A number of Patti Smith songs, including “Gloria,” “Free Money,” and “Because the Night,” center their intros around a piano, bring in a standard set of rock instruments, and erupt with expressive noise in the chorus. This is a structure “Don’t Push Your Foot on the Heartbrake” apes, albeit with more randomness and less meticulously constructed tension than something like “Because the Night.” Lyrically, Bush and Smith share a sense of propulsion and escalating, which in Bush’s case consists of tearing down a motorway and in Smith’s consists of everything from heists to lusting after strangers. Yet Bush eschews the transgressive qualities of albums like Horses and Easter, and probably for the best (Bush has yet to release an album track with a racial slur in its title). There’s a melodramatic innocence to “Heartbrake,” anchored as it is in its protagonist’s frantic mourning of Georgie. Bush’s homage to Smith is little more than borrowing a stencil which she traces her own work around. This is of course the kind of work that uses patently ridiculous phrases like “but she’s so O. D. ’d on weeping.”

In lieu of an immediate musical analogue for “Heartbrake,” let’s compare this song to a more famous piece of media centered around a person’s internal state shattering on a motorway: J. G. Ballard’s controversial novel Crash. Ballard is legendary for his interrogations of modernity: his masterpiece The Atrocity Exhibition features a piece called “Why I Want to Fuck Ronald Reagan” which literally landed him in court. He frequently positions large social structures, such as high rises, the mass media, and motorways, as analogous to the human body and symptomatic of deep-rooted entropy. This is… not terribly far from where Bush lands, at times. Sure, Bush overlooks the whole “nightmare of modernity” thing (indeed, “Heartbrake” is one of the few Bush songs to unambiguously take place in the late 20th century), but physical experience is crucial to the narrative of her music. Tuning into one’s own body to find spiritual liberation is one of the recurrent ideas in Bush’s discography so far. Whereas The Kick Inside took this freedom and operated it with unbridled optimism, Lionheart is the sobering moment in which Bush has to figure out what to do when the initial high of becoming an adult subsides. Sometimes growing up entails crashing a car. But if you’re going to do it, you might as well be romantic about it”.

I am not sure whether Kate Bush remember the song or holds in particular high esteem now. A song that was not originally intended to go on an album and was grabbed from the archives to ensure she could put out a second studio album six months after her first – insane pressure and expectation from EMI! -, Don’t Push Your Foot on the Heartbrake is a curio. Something that, whilst not spectacular, is odd and goofy. It is Rock-themed and Bush said it was her version of a Patti Smith song. Making this track quite interesting. A lot to unpick. I keep wondering about Emma. A school friend from when Bush attended St Joseph's Convent Grammar School in Abbey Wood, South East London. That is a Catholic girls' school. Bush attended the school until 1976. The opening lines read like this: “Emma’s come down/She’s stopped the light/Shining out of her eyes”.  In terms of Emmas who were the titles of songs released around the time Bush wrote Don’t Push Your Foot on the Heartbrake were Hot Chocolate’s 1974 Emma, and Little River Band’s 1975 Emma. Even so, this is more personal to Bush, though she never revealed who the character is. In terms of positive takes on the songs, when Harry Doherty spoke to Kate Bush for a November 1978 edition of Melody Maker he did say this:

“A few months ago, in the paper, Kate said how one of her musical ambitions was to write a real rousing rock'n'roll song and how difficult she found that task. James and the Cold Gun was her effort on The Kick Inside, and with Don't Push Your Foot on the Heartbrake she has tackled the art of writing a roasting rocker on her own terms. Heartbrake (another piece of emotional therapy) might not be considered a rocker in the traditional sense of racing from start to finish but it's still one of the most vicious pieces of rock I've stumbled across in some time. The chorus is slow, pedestrianly slow. The pace is deceiving. It slides into the chorus. Bush moves into a jog. Then the second part of the chorus. It's complete havoc, and when it comes to repeating that second part in the run-up to the end, Kate wrenches from her slight frame a screaming line of unbelievably consummate rock'n'roll power that astounded me. A rather unnerving turn to Kate's music, I think”.

I will leave things there. As Babooshka turns forty-six on 27th June, I wanted to write about Babooshka/Her Husband. The wife who dresses as this other woman to try and test her husband’s fidelity. Going back a couple of years to Lionheart and the under-discussed Don’t Push Your Foot on the Heartbrake. Who the ‘Emma’ is that is bereft and Bush warns not to skid off the road. There is no record of Kate Bush having a close friend named Emma, so it does make me curious where she got the name, and who she had in mind when writing the song. A trio of fascinating characters from the incredible work of…

THE unique Kate Bush.

FEATURE: Spotlight: Angine de Poitrine

FEATURE:

 

 

Spotlight

ALL PHOTOS: Samuel Snow

 

Angine de Poitrine

__________

YOU have probably discovered…

this duo before. However, for anyone unfamiliar, I am spotlighting Angine de Poitrine. They are composed of two anonymous musicians performing under pseudonyms as guitarist Khn de Poitrine and drummer Klek de Poitrine. Formed in Saguenay, Quebec, in 2019, they recently played dates in the U.K. They are back here later in the year. Though I am not a great fan of artists who remain anonymous or mysterious – SAULT did for a while, until they performed live and the cat was out of the bag! -, you cannot that the music of Angine de Poitrine is fantastic. I will end with a review of their new album, Vol.II. There are a couple of new interviews that I want to come to. CULT MTL interviewed Angine de Poitrine ahead of the release of their album. It must be quite a strange experience interviewing artists who keep their identities secret:

“Through a cloud of indoor cigarette smoke, I see something resembling a human being. This is Khn de Poitrine, the guitarist who wields his custom-made double-neck microtonal guitar and bass (polka-dotted, of course), and commands a legion of loop and effects pedals. Next, Klek, the in-the-pocket drummer, also decked out in polka dots on stage, appears only as an omniscient voice. And whatever god the Poitrine duo worship, they speak! French and English.

“This project is a culmination of a lot of years of inside jokes,” Khn says between cigarette drags. “The names were our alter egos in a 10-minute free jazz project, where I was just fooling around on saxophone and (Klek) was on drums.”

“Just to be clear, you won’t be showing or displaying our (human) names? We are Klek and Khn for life,” Klek laughs. As a music journalist, I oblige — partly out of respect for their art, partly out of some primal fear of what exposure might bring. I picture a Cronenbergian nightmare: Khn and Klek replacing my childhood sleep paralysis demons, haunting my dreams with infinite spirals of microtonal rock while they beam golden triangles into my skull. Why triangles?

“It’s the best shape,” Klek fires back, defending the polygon. During live shows, the duo throws up pyramid shapes to the crowd, and the crowd throws them back. “We just really fucking love triangles. They are beautiful, and the strongest shape,” Khn says, without an ounce of hyperbole.

Angine de Poitrine hails from the Saguenay–Lac-Saint-Jean region, and the duo has been playing music together since they were 14-years-old. That’s around 20 or so years, but again, they are intergalactic beings, so time is irrelevant. The costumes started as a prank. “At first, the idea for the costumes was to play more shows and play a bit of an Andy Kaufman-esque joke on the crowd and say, ‘Hey, can we start a band without anybody knowing who we are?’ And who is it behind the masks?” Klek says.

But the masks and personas of Khn and Klek have now become safety armour for both members. “There’s a comfort to feeling, ‘Oh, I’m this on stage,’ but after that, I’m a normal person,” Klek says. “We can avoid the, ‘Oh, this is the drummer’ talks, where everyone swarms you after a show when I just want to drink my water.”

Before releasing their first single, “Sherpa,” in 2024, the duo’s exploration of microtonal rock was born from musical curiosity. One day, Klek brought home a custom-made microtonal guitar for Khn to mess around with.

“I took two guitars, and I took the frets from one board, which was kind of rusty and fucked up anyway, and I put them on a second fret board,” Klek says. So what did this do? Standard Western music runs 12 tones in a chromatic scale. Add extra frets and you crack open a wider interval system — quarter tones, semitones — producing the fractal, frictional quality found in Japanese and Indian music. That friction became the foundation for Angine de Poitrine’s progressive rock-psych-freakish jazz wormhole.

In the beginning, Khn was playing with a microtonal guitar, looping it, and switching between guitar and bass while Klek laid down the beats. But they started toying with the idea of having a double-neck guitar made.

“We thought it would look fucking sick, and for 15 seconds, we were like, ‘Oh, that’s a funny joke.’ But it became clear that it was a good idea,” Klek says. After speaking to different luthiers, one who quoted Khn $12,000 per fret board (which they quickly declined), the guitar was made by a “professional friend” of Angine de Poitrine.

“The whole idea of the band was to assume a bit of a satirical approach to rock music in general,” Khn says. “We wanted an exaggeration, so the double-neck guitar was the perfect choice to kind of make fun of guitar heroes.”

As you can probably sum up, the twisting microtonal rock may seem like it comes from a super serious and pretentious place, but it’s actually quite the opposite. Both Khn and Klek are virtuosos of their craft, but much like their costumes and the excess of the double-neck guitar, parts of the music are a light, sardonic poke at rock music.

“We will have short musical statements in the songs that are actually just jokes, like, this is the boomer lick, and just shout (distortedly) ‘HAIL SANTANA!’ into the microphones,” Khn laughs. “Obviously, we love Santana. It’s a love statement, but also a caricature, because you’ve got to be able to laugh at yourself and say, ‘What we do is ridiculous”.

The second and final interview I want to highlight is from The Guardian. They have a growing fan base here in the U.K., and I can only imagine how exciting it was for fans here to see them on the stage. I don’t think that there is anyone quite like Angine de Poitrine at the moment. Even if they might not have the ear of all major radio stations here, I feel that those that get what they are releasing and truly appreciate their music makes up for that. The duo deserve as much attention as possible:

“In just a few months, Angine de Poitrine’s lore has entered the annals of rock iconography alongside the likes of Kiss, the Residents and Daft Punk. In February, US radio station KEXP published a video of the anonymous duo performing at a French festival: 27 minutes of ludicrously tight, swerving, looping grooves played by two figures who look like some ungodly union of Jar Jar Binks and Dada pioneer Hugo Ball. There was undoubtedly a novelty factor, but novelty alone can’t fuel you to 13.7m YouTube views. Those are pop-star numbers for genuinely freaky music, a prog-club sound that takes its wayward undertow from Khn’s microtonal musicianship – playing the notes between the notes, a mode historically found in eastern music – and Klek’s sewing-machine needle drumming.

But they’re nonplussed by the hype: even the luthier who made Khn’s microtonal double-necked guitar has become a figure of obsession; no wonder the creator of their new masks wants to remain unknown. “It’s only music. I’m not saving people’s lives,” Klek continues. “I’m just playing drums. One comment on KEXP said: ‘Now there’s a reason to live.’ I was like: calm down, man. Go kiss your mother or something – that’s a reason to live.”

Rabid fans have worked out who they are, but the fun of Angine is that they’re mysterious and inventive. The sleuthing, says Klek, makes him feel like when he asked for an Xbox for Christmas as a kid. “I really badly wanted to know if I had it, so I undo the tapes on my wrappings and take a look. It was like: oh yeah, I had it. Then I closed it back up and for a week I was like: why did I do that? Where’s the surprise now? There is a thing that is interesting in not knowing. And you find out who we are and you’re like … oh. We’re not Lady Gaga. We’re not Elton John. We’re two random dudes.”

The incorporated Saguenay area had a great DIY arts scene. Khn was obsessed with a “mathy, rocky, bluesy, bit wonky rock’n’roll” band called Deux Pouilles en Cavale, whose drum kit was partially made of trash. They loved le parc, another hard-firing instrumental band. The region was surrounded by logging and aluminium factories: did those industrial pistons infiltrate the sound? “People in Saguenay are down for intense, loud music,” says Khn. “If you want to stand out, you have to blend all those influences together.” He cites prog metal band Voivod, until now the area’s biggest musical export. “They bring influences from punk rock, from prog, from a lot of different subgenres. Maybe people here don’t have those barriers.”

Klek and Khn kept playing together, alongside their mutual pal, but didn’t form a band until their early 20s. “For a while, we didn’t take it seriously,” says Klek. “It was just like playing with Legos.”

“Well,” says Khn, “maybe that’s true for you. I was 12 when I picked up a guitar and I instantly became very serious about it. I always had the intention to make a band.” He played with plenty of other serious musicians, but it never compared to noodling in the basement with Klek and their mate. Klek’s resistance drove Khn to distraction. “It was frustrating for me when the most interesting stuff I was doing was with two guys who had no ambition whatsoever.”

Klek couldn’t see himself as a musician. “I didn’t have idols or people to follow in their path,” he says. He was more into woodwork. In time, he realised what a vast part of his life music occupied. “I did a lot of jobs, but never did driving trucks or planting trees as much as playing music.”

Klek and Khn are lifelong jammers. Most Angine songs start that way. “We improvise and make a lot of crap, then you have a little spark,” says Khn. “A lot of the songs on the second album, I found one riff that’s got something to it, then you build from that.”

Building up these loops, says Klek, “there’s a feeling of anxiousness or something that comes with the repetitions, the frictions with the microtones. We’re always playing with that feeling, and tension and release.” Using a loop pedal live keeps them in line, says Khn. “If I start from this idea, I have to find a coherent way to move away from it.” Otherwise, he says, they have a “tendency to make songs that go from A to Z without coming back to A or B”.

Angine are open about being inspired by King Gizzard’s 2017 album Flying Microtonal Banana. Microtonal virtuosos have been going viral a lot recently: Maddie Ashman, Bryan Deister. The appeal, Klek thinks, is that “it sounds new for people”, though he finds it weird given that this musical system predates the 12-semitone western scale. He can’t say whether listeners are finding it a reassuring counter to AI-generated culture. “Since we are ‘popular’ in a certain way – it’s strange for me to say that – we don’t spend much time on the internet because we have a tight schedule. And sometimes people are … how can I say … angry about Angine. So we’re like: let’s not go on Facebook. People can say what they want.” Khn grins”.

I will finish with a review from Pitchfork. They wrote about Vol. II from a duo who “takes the throne as the world’s weirdest party band”. Where they come back to the U.K. and play dates here in October, they will be performing to packed-out venues:

“Their sudden, overwhelming success seems like something of a fluke since none of their obvious touchpoints are remotely fashionable. There’s definitely a little King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard in their hypnotic churn and microtonal melodies, but beyond that, you’re swerving into serious dorkery: Think the ill-angled prog jabberwocky of ’70s French zeuhl bands like Magma or Art Zoyd; the demented herky-jerk of ’80s outsiders like Renaldo and the Loaf or Zoogz Rift; the heady grooves of Primus, Discipline-era King Crimson, or early Battles; the costumed performance noise of ’00s loft-punx like Forcefield, or the similarly two-toned Yip-Yip; maybe even the spate of Turkish psych-rock reissues that started emerging around 20 years ago. The band rides for Arto Lindsay and gamelan records but also Gentle Giant’s hyper-intricate prog, and John Scofield’s Bonnaroo-funk outing Überjam.

The first three tracks on Vol. II provide proper studio versions of their four-song KEXP set (the honking, space-choogle “Sherpa” opened Vol. I). All three are stellar examples of the band’s polyrhythm games. Angine is not Dillinger Escape Plan or Naked City leaping wildly between time signatures—a loop pedal serves as the third member of the band, so every song is generally locked into a pulse. Instead, Angine de Poitrine are more like Meshuggah or Dawn of Midi, establishing a meter and then creating rhythmic illusions using creative bursts of syncopation. Opener “Fabienk” is a simple 7/8. What makes Angine de Poitrine special is how they wiggle and writhe within that structure, filling the grid with weird rhythmic curlicues, ill-timed accents, and unlikely hooklets. Khn’s riffs span large gulfs of time so they lose their familiar shape, punctuating the air in strange polygons. “Sarniezz” is a basic 6/8, it only sounds weird because it takes Khn four bars until he repeats his Frith-ian melody and Klek alternates between swung time and traditional 4/4 caveman pound. When they lean back and sledgehammer that random second sixteenth note subdivision, it’s like synchronized swimming. The pair claim they have been playing together for 20 years, and their telekinetic bond is apparent in these twisted arrangements.

Surely, this type of granular analysis is thrilling to Zappa apologists and people who watch Drumeo videos, but ultimately Angine de Poitrine’s best balancing act is the ability to consistently dance this mess around. Vol. II is body music, dancefloor music, pogo music, moshpit music, noodle-dance music. It just happens to sound like Lightning Bolt trapped inside Pee-Wee’s Playhouse. All but one of the mesmerizing puzzles on Vol. II strut across the six-minute mark, and the songs never lose steam because they contain so many variations and plot twists. As avowed fans of house and acid techno, they not only understand hypnosis but also pacing: The climax is often Klek’s drums doing a frantic surge into straight meter, which is not just a balm for the brain-boggled but a fairly obvious cue to go apeshit. In “Yor Zarad” they cut the time in half, turning a nervy Wire spasm into the world’s happiest Helmet song.

Using a custom-made guitar to craft melodies from the notes in between the notes of the Western scale, Khn is an incredibly versatile musician. Even on the decidedly uncomplicated 4/4 bounce of “UTZP,” he still thrills because he morphs himself from Balkan brass rave-up to Snakefinger-style dizziness to multi-layered Glenn Branca guitar orchestra to total hair-metal shredding. Critic Craig Marks astutely brought up Dutch wacko-prog fluke “Hocus Pocus” by Focus, but I would point to Gary Hoey’s wheedle-metal cover that was a 1993 staple on Headbangers Ball. They’ve managed to take some of the unsexiest music in history and give it the type of groove that renders it undeniable.

Skeptics can paint Angine de Poitrine as gimmicky OK Go stunt rock, but there’s no denying the melodies and chops behind their dotted duds. At their best, they’re a beacon that North America is once again ready for art-fucky noise rock bands, a rising tide that will hopefully lift excellent, margin-dwelling weirdo-gnash outfits like Los Angeles’ Guck, Oakland’s Gumby's Junk, New York’s Chaser, Portland’s Rhododendron, and Las Vegas’ Spring Breeding. Angine de Poitrine have the muscle, the melody, and the magic to be the world’s weirdest party band; Vol. II is a powerful argument that we should all start seeing spots”.

Do make sure you experience the phenomenal music of Angine de Poitrine. Even though they have been playing and recording for a while, this year is one where they are gaining widespread acclaim and attention. I am relatively new to their music, so I wanted to collate some interviews and a reviews, so that you can get an idea of who they are – in a musical sense, rather than break that anonymity -, and why their music is so admired. They are so distinct and accomplished, but there is also this real sense of freedom and fun. If you buy that they are the world’s weirdest party band, then make sure that you do…

NOT miss the party.

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Follow Angine de Poitrine

FEATURE: Spotlight: Tara Kumar

FEATURE:

 

 

Spotlight

 

Tara Kumar

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I will come to…

PHOTO CREDIT: Eljay

a couple of more recent interviews with the wonderful D.J and broadcaster, Tara Kumar. I want to quickly bring in an interview from 2024. This is a D.J. who has played across some massive festivals and stages around the world. Hotpress caught up with Tara Kumar ahead of her playing the Smirnoff Stage at Electric Picnic 2024:

“She has played at massive festivals and exclusive private parties around the world – but the lush fields of Stradbally Hall remain the backdrop to some of Tara Kumar’s fondest memories.

“What I relish about EP is that you get to see all these people you love that you might not get to see all the time, whether that be musicians or friends,” she says. “One of my favourite moments was seeing Björk in 2013 – I remember going, ‘Oh, my God, this is crazy’. She had a special, purpose-built instrument on the stage, which was used on the album she was touring. It was outrageous, over the top, and everything that is amazing about Björk.

“I’ve played a couple of times myself. The crowd at Electric Picnic is always full of good vibes, good energy. Everyone is there to have a good time and enjoy this shared experience.”

That’ll be even more keenly felt in the up-close-and-personal setting of the Smirnoff Stage.

“At a festival, I tend to go bigger than I would for one of my usual shows,” she says. “You have to read the crowd a little bit more because there’s so many distractions! It means a lot for someone to choose to listen to you, and spend that time with you, when they could be at another gig or watching someone else. That’s why it’s really important to give your all and bring people into your world.”

Of Irish-Indian-Malaysian descent, and currently based in London, Tara was raised in Australia. She categorically embodies Smirnoff’s emphasis on platforming a diverse crop of performers. Musically, she has been inspired by a broad range of sounds since she was a child.

“It’s a bit of a blessing and a curse,” she laughs. “Growing up in Australia listening to Triple J radio was a really big part of falling in love with music. At the same time, I grew up in a pub surrounded by live trad. I started playing the flute when I was nine years old, so I’ve got that classical element too. I’ve also worked in a CD shop and an instrument shop. It can be hard to distil all those influences in my DJ sets.”

From Kumar’s perspective, increasing access for musicians and DJs is vital, enabling artists to broaden their sonic horizons. It’s a feature that makes the Smirnoff Stage ultra appealing.

“You always want to have an open door,” she says. “I think you should continuously grow your network and friend circle, because getting inspiration from different people is really important. It’s crucial to cross-pollinate. The music scene, like anything, can be very cliquey and it can be intimidating to rock up to a gig or event on your own. I really value when people are kind to me, so I try to pass that on.

“Better inclusivity and diversity is slowly and surely growing in Ireland as well. We’re seeing a lot more people from different types of backgrounds coming through. But it’s a big project. The work never stops”.

This incredible talent who has presented on major radio stations and brings this sense of togetherness and community to her D.J. sets. Whether she is on the radio or doing a set, there is this desire for everyone to feel included and heard. Four Four Mag interviewed Tara Kumar about her ethos of uniting people and “why the best club nights should always feel a little bit like home”. I like spotlighting artists, but when it comes to D.J.s and broadcasters, they perhaps do not get the attention they deserve. Tara Kumar is someone that everyone should know about:

“There’s something distinctly communal about the world Tara Kumar creates. The Australia-born, Dublin-raised, now London-based DJ and broadcaster has built a reputation for blending big tunes with big heart, and maybe a pint of Guinness on the side.

From RTÉ 2FM to BBC Radio 1, and from bush doofs to packed pub takeovers, Kumar’s journey has been shaped by community, curiosity and a deep love of a proper banger (no such thing as a guilty pleasure here). We caught up with her to chat about radio, Kumar Klub, and why the best nights out feel a bit like home.

You’ve lived around the world, from Australia to Dublin and now London. How have these different scenes influenced your musical taste and approach to DJ sets?

In my teens in Australia, I was going to parties in the bush with soundsystems in the back of utes, hanging out underage in my parents’ pub around music every night. Then, when I hit the big ol’ age of 18, I was going to the local club that was attached to the casino called The Juicy Rump, dancing to Rihanna – Only Girl in the World every weekend, haha. But that definitely shaped my love of pop music at the time. Triple J, the radio station, shaped my love of dance music. Then, when I moved to Dublin, I was exposed to even more sounds and my tastes grew and expanded, from going to The Workman’s, POD, Hangar and Izakaya.

I have a really wide, varied taste in music, and my DJ sets definitely reflect that. I don’t believe in guilty pleasures, a banger is a banger, and I’ll play it if I want to. 

Kumar Klub has really bloomed into a brilliant community spot. We’d love to hear about where the idea came from and what the space means to you, both as a DJ and as the person putting these nights together.

Thank you! To hear it being known as a community spot means a lot, because that’s exactly what I set out to do. I grew up in my parents’ Irish pub and Indian restaurant, so that space was my community. That background, I think, is the reason I love to meet new people and learn about their stories and life adventures. And that is where Kumar Klub comes from; it’s inspired by the blend of music and food in my parents’ business. They had live music every night where I used to play, and my Amma was cooking up stews and curries every night of the week. I wanted to bring my background into something that can slot into different locations and different vibes, a club, a pub, a restaurant.

Kumar Klub can fit into so many different spaces. Some nights it’s a party in a pub where I’m throwing out onion bhajis, with pints in hand, or it’s a sit-down dinner with DJs soundtracking the night, or it’s a charity bingo night. My dream is for it to have my own permanent place one day… DJ, broadcaster….publican? A girl can dream.

You’ve been part of the BBC Radio 1 world. What did that moment represent for you personally in your journey as a DJ?

Aw, it still feels crazy to walk into the studio and pull up the fader on the mic. I’m waiting for security to tackle me to the ground for sneaking in or something! BUT to back myself a bit more than I did in that last sentence, I love radio and music, and I’ve worked so hard to get to where I am now, from my years in RTE 2FM and to now in BBC Radio 1, these are spaces I could only dream of getting a chance in and I don’t take it for granted.  Getting to play music and help people discover and fall in love with artists is the dream”.

London on the Inside spent time with Tara Kumar last month. Her Kumar Klub is where Ireland meets India. Kumar growing up in an Irish-Indian pub. I am really looking forward to seeing where Tara Kumar heads this summer. In terms of her D.J. work and the Kumar Klub. I would love to hear and read more interviews with Tara Kumar, as she is fascinating. Head to her website to get playlists of awesome new music and fresh Irish sounds. It does seem though there is a lot more to come through the remainder of the year:

“When it comes to straddling different cultures, DJ, broadcaster and musician Tara Kumar knows the feeling only too well. Being born to a dad from Belfast and an Indian-Malaysian mother, who also owned the local Irish bar-Indian restaurant in Alice Springs in the Aussie outback, is “the perfect recipe for an identity crisis”. It’s also kept life exciting. Growing up in an Irish-Indian pub was “the best of both worlds, two cultures colliding, from Irish stew and Guinness to vindaloo and mango lassi,” she says.

That unique cultural mix is something that Tara is exploring more as she makes waves in London. She had been studying music and playing in bands, and was nearly signed to Sony in Australia as a teen, but she eventually left Alice Springs for Dublin, where she scored a slot on radio station RTÉ 2FM. After a three-year residency hosting the station’s flagship nightly New Music show, and six years in total at the station, she moved over to London, where she’s had regular hosting gigs on BBC Radio 1’s Future Sounds and Future Artists, DJed at the likes of the GQ Men of the Year and the Universal Records BRITs Afterparty, and collaborated with brands like Ganni, Levi’s, and eBay.

Fashion has always been a big part of her expression and is one of the key ways Tara represents both sides of her heritage. She’s created a distinctive aesthetic that blends vintage clothing – “I’ve always romanticised the stories behind pre-loved clothes, who wore them before me, and what kind of life they lived” – with traditional Indian elements, like saris, jhumkas and pottus, and streetwear, particularly Irish brands Pellador, Emporium, and Storefront. “My go-to outfit would be an Adidas tracksuit, the biggest pair of Indian earrings I can find, and a pottu to finish the look.”

Tara was always destined for a career centred around music. As well as playing the flute, saxophone and guitar, she grew up surrounded by music, “Irish trad from my dad, my Amma’s favourite Bollywood soundtracks, and Tamil classical music playing on my Thatha’s record player.” Though she loves sharing music, she admits that radio can be quite a solitary job, “when you’re live on air, it’s just you and a producer, you don’t see the people you’re speaking to. That’s why I started hosting in person nights, so I could connect with people face-to-face.”

Kumar Klub is Tara’s way of combining her mixed heritage with her love of both music and food, and creating community at the same time. And yes, there’s merch because you didn’t think she would leave fashion out, did you?

What started as “any excuse to throw a party” has evolved into some pretty epic gatherings, including a South Asian horror movie night featuring Indian-inspired cinema food; an Adidas supper club at Irish-Indian spot Shankey’s; a St Patrick’s Day party at Foundation FM with live trad and Tayto chaat; a collab with Guinness in Cork last year where she took over a back room at Coughlan’s Bar, where they handed out over 100 onion bhajis to the crowd; and a 12-hour St Paddy’s Day party this year at The Fox in Haggerston.

And there’s plenty more to come in 2026, with more parties planned in both Ireland and the UK, sit-down events in the calendar, and a new charity project in the works too. She’s already held a fundraiser in aid of Dublin Rape Crisis Centre, a charity very close to her heart, and she’s recently been mentoring at the Dharavi Dream Project, a creative sanctuary for under-resourced youths in India, so we’re keen to see what else she turns her hand to”.

It has been wonderful discovering more about Tara Kumar. Follow her on social media so that you can see where she is playing and what’s in the diary. She did sit in for Sian Eleri on Radio 1’s Future Artists recently, and I hope that she does get more slots and time on BBC Radio 1 and other stations. This incredible inspiring and positive force in music, from her D.J. work broadcasting and her fundraising and charity work, this is someone that we should be very proud of. Ensure that the brilliant Tara Kumar does not…

PASS you by.

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Follow Tara Kumar

FEATURE: Modern-Day Queens: Eli & Fur

FEATURE:

 

 

Modern-Day Queens

  

Eli & Fur

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I wanted to…

PHOTO CREDIT: SJ Spreng

spent some time with Eli & Fur, as they are in the middle of a tour. In June, on 21st, they play in New York. Six days later, they play in Bournemouth. Quite different in terms of feel and scenery, they head back to the U.S. in July. You can check their dates here. Eli & Fur are a D.J. and Electronic producer duo comprising Eliza Noble and Jennifer Skillman. They are based in the U.S., though they were formed in London. Even though their most recent album was Dreamscapes of 2024, they have conduced some interviews fairly recently. I am a fan of what they do. An incredible duo that everyone should know about. I am going to start by heading back to some older interviews. Starting out with GRAMMY and their 2021 interview with the Eli & Fur. Found in the Wild is their debut album. GRAMMY note how, “With clubs closed and all plans out the window, they finally reached their destination by revisiting their roots”:

“To better understand British duo Eli & Fur's debut album, Found In The Wild, it might help to watch Into the Wild. The film adaptation of Jon Krakauer's 1996 non-fiction book tells the story of Christopher McCandless, a then-recent college graduate who rejected modern society by adventuring solo across North America into the Alaskan wilderness, supposedly in search of enlightenment. Before his death in approximately August 1992, McCandless sought shelter from the snowy elements in an abandoned bus, documenting his life through self-portraits and journaling.

Into the Wild, Eliza Noble, a.k.a. Eli, tells GRAMMY.com over Zoom, is one of her favorite movies. (She also loves its Eddie Vedder-composed soundtrack.) "I definitely relate to that, wanting to escape," she muses. At the moment, she and partner Jennifer Skillman, a.k.a. Fur, are holed up in their own creative refuge on the other side of the world, in Sussex, South East London, in a giant wooden shed turned studio which to them feels more like a sauna on one of the hottest days in recent memory. The studio, non-weatherproof as it may be, has served as its own frontier, a lawless land where genres, deadlines and plans don't exist, and where creativity has free rein. It's no Alaska, but perhaps it's helped Eli & Fur answer some questions of their own: Who are we? Where do we fit?

They've pondered over that last one, especially, for nearly all the nine years that Eli & Fur the project have existed. Before then, they were "proper cheese pop" songwriters and vocalists, as Fur calls it, who after spending countless nights in the club evolved into DJs and producers of their own, culminating in their 2013 debut, "You're So High." Since then, the duo's profile has increased with releases on dance labels including Defected, Spinnin' Deep, Anjunadeep and their own NYX Music. Still, as they shared in a statement, doubters thought their combination of pop-structured vocals and club tracks wouldn't work.

Split into a dual showcase—Found represents their songwriting roots, while In the Wild shows off their club side—Found In The Wild is the musical whole of Eli & Fur, proving that both can co-exist to beautiful, emotional results. With all tracks either created or finished during lockdown, a dark, moody energy surges throughout its rolling melodies, emphasized by lyrics that reflect the sadness ("Come Back Around"), uncertainty ("Broken Parts") and existentialism ("Are We Even Human") of having everything you know and love turned upside down. By stepping back and trusting their instincts, Eli & Fur were able to recenter themselves and move forward. As Eli sums it up: "You have to get lost to be found."

How has being home for the last 16 months affected your relationship with music?

Fur: When Coronavirus happened I came back from L.A. to be with my family, and I've literally been in this shed for the last year making music everyday. It's been incredible because I haven't had this [much] time before to fully be creative and not have all these crazy deadlines and touring. We've also been making music that we wouldn't usually because of what's been going on in the world. Being able to come in here and make different genres with no planned outcome or release or whatever—just purely create—I love that.

Eli: That's so true. When you're at home and you know you're going to DJ on the weekends, you often have it in your mind that you're going to test this track out. You're thinking from that club perspective, because that's where you're spending a lot of your time. At the beginning of the pandemic we were in separate places and we had to make music remotely, so we'd sent stuff back and forth and—

Fur: It was a new way of working for us.

Eli: Yeah, it was a crazy experience… Even though we're dying to get back to touring now, the silver lining in this has been being able to get ahead of ourselves.

Did you experience any existential anxiety? The idea of, "I'm a DJ/producer, but who am I while none of that's happening?"

Eli: We both struggled through the whole thing. It's been difficult, especially as our income comes from touring, but it was scary because for the first three months, it felt like a real loss of identity. What am I without this? It was weird. When everything gets stripped away from you and you don't know when you're going to work again, you essentially don't have a job and no idea of what the future holds… That was really stressful, but it's been amazing that the two of us have supported each other. I have no idea what I would've done had I been on my own.

Fur: I don't think I could do it.

You've been told that meshing your songwriting and club-minded sides wouldn't work, but in the last few years especially, vocal melodic tracks have been thriving in the dance music space. What do you think connects with audiences?

Eli: The emotion on the dancefloor. You can have rolling, amazing tracks that are great to dance to, but the ones that you remember, in our opinion, are the ones that make you stop and listen to lyrics that you relate to… It's certainly a style that not everybody loves, but as you said, it's growing.

Anjunadeep is a perfect example. They're a great label to be on because when you go to an Anjunadeep show or listen to an Anjunadeep artist you're going to get these emotive, beautiful, interesting layered pieces of music which have a lot of meaning. I think that's what people are connecting with.

When was a time that the club most felt like being in the wild?

Eli: My favorite moments are in a dark, more intimate space where the crowd is just right there, vibing with you, and you completely lose yourself. I think a track that really represents that is "Light Up Your Eyes" because… it really communicates that moment. Those moments are really inspiring, when you're all on the same wavelength. The best part about going out is losing yourself and escaping and being somewhere dark where you're not staring at someone in a bright light. It's shadowy and mysterious; you can be whoever you want to be. No one has to know who you are.

Whenever we go out, we're usually going out to DJ. Our concept of a night out is playing music and seeing people's reactions. It's incredible to look at different faces in the crowd and kind of think about who they are, where they come from, what's going on in their minds—

Fur: You're not even having a conversation; it's just a feeling”.

Before bringing things more up to date, let’s head back to 2024 and Fifteen Questions. Speaking with Eli & Fur around the release of Dreamscapes, I am going to end with a recent interview, where Eliza Noble and Jennifer Skillman reflected on the Dreamscapes Remixes album from last year. This year, they have released singles One That You Love, and Strange. I wonder if another album will arrive soon:

“Entering/creating new worlds through music has always exerted a strong pull on me. What do you think you are drawn to most when it comes to listening to and creating music?

Fur: I definitely am more listening to the melody than the lyrics, whereas I think Eli is the opposite, she focuses on words more, it's like melodic movement versus poetry. When those things complement each other, it is pure magic and we always strive for that together.

It’s funny how different people latch onto different parts sonically. When we create music, we really do get lost in it. It’s almost like a form of meditation, like time stops.

Sometimes we’ll get so wrapped up in the music, hours will go by and we won’t even notice.

According to scientific studies, we make our deepest and most incisive musical experiences between the ages of 13-16. What did music mean to you at that age and what’s changed since then?

Fur: We both listened to quite different music growing up. I listened to more 80s synthpop. I definitely think we both go back to music we were listening to around those ages, we both love being able to listen back to old songs and remember exactly how we were feeling the first time we heard it.

Eli: I was a lot more interested in live elements of music, singer songwriter stuff, folk bands, some more emo alternative teenage angst stuff, But it was always rooted in emotion. All that music still has a huge effect on me.

From the earliest sketches to the finished piece, tell me about the creative process for your album, please.

Fur: It all depends on the song, some songs happen quicker than others, some sit on the shelf for months. Sometimes it’s hard to create the initial magic that happened in the very beginning. We try not to stray too far away from the original ideas we fall in love with. Saying “it’s finished” has always been the hardest part for me, thankfully Eli is brilliant at that.

All the ideas from our new album Dreamscapes started very authentically in moments of inspiration, maybe a hotel room, or sat down with a guitar. Then we took all our favourite ideas into the studio to finish them with a vision for the album sonically.

Do you feel that your music or your work as an artist needs to have a societal purpose or a responsibility to anyone but yourself?

Fur: This is a very interesting question. If you are lucky enough to make music that is totally true to yourself AND it connects on a scale that gives you a career out of it, then that's amazing. But at the point where it doesn't then that's more of a hobby or an outlet for only yourself, which is also great if that's all you are striving for.

For us, we want to be creative but also have a career in music. This sometimes means compromising in small ways. There is something really magical about the listener being able to apply their story and feelings to the music you make so that it can tell a hundred different stories to different listeners.

For that reason we do always consider the listeners when choosing which songs we want to put out in the world, we like to write about our own experiences to the point where people connect.

Do you feel as though writing or performing a piece of music is inherently different from something like making a great cup of coffee? What do you express through music that you couldn't or wouldn't in more mundane; tasks?

Fur: Music is more subconscious. So it’s therapeutic in a way that you can lose yourself, let out emotions that perhaps you can’t put into words. It’s a lot more stream of consciousness.
When you sit down to write something you never know what’s going to come from it. That not knowing as well as expressing emotion you may not have been aware of is very freeing and not like anything else”.

Before getting to a new Beatportal chat, in 2024, they spoke with Eli & Fir about a track that started it all for them. They also talked about their new sample pack, Dusk to Dawn. It was their first sample pack, so it was an exciting time for them. If you are not following Eli & Fur, then make sure that you connect with them and check out their music:

“You’re So High (10 Years On)

Eli: So “You’re So High” was a really organic moment for us. At the time, we’d been DJing for a couple of years and we’d started to make our own tracks. I think at the time we were listening to a lot of old Maceo Plex like Under the Sheets, then we were kind of digging back into that old Chicago House sound. The more emotional stuff like Larry Heard The Sun Can’t Compare.

Fur: “Mystery of Love.”

Eli: “Yeah yeah yeah, all that kind of stuff. Those beautiful kind of gritty but emotional tracks are what we were playing in our DJ sets. But at the same time, we were also working at a production pop-house, writing pop-y tracks as our day job.”

“So that really seeped into what we were doing in terms of vocal hooks and using vocals that you can’t get out of your head. I think You’re So High is a perfect example of those two worlds.”

Fur: “It’s like a hybrid or the day job and what we were doing in the evenings, as we tried to figure out our sounds.”

Eli: “And that stayed with us over the last 10 years. When we wrote that song, the chords came first and we had You’re So High as a lyric.”

Fur: “We have these lyric pages where we write all the lyrics, which we still try and do now. I think it’s a great way of writing as you’ll just come up with the lyrics and not have to fill in gibberish with words. But You’re So High was the first thing that came out of Eli’s mouth, and it just stuck.”

Eli: “It stuck, then we had the chords and the vocal. When we started to build things up around it we really kind of dipped into that inspiration of what we were listening to at the time. We wanted it to not be too complicated but lean towards the music we really loved at the time. When you listen to the drums on that they’re really poppy, like when the snare comes in.”

Fur: “It’s a polished sound.”

Eli: “It’s not super gritty, but when the bassline comes in you can hear that inspiration. You can hear what we were inspired by. The older kind of darker, more emotional techno and that kind of thing that was really getting us excited.”

“I think that’s definitely what we try and do: merge those two worlds together. That hooky vocal along with that gritty emotional stuff is why we do what we do and what inspires us.”

“The track really came together in a very organic way, and it took what, a day to make it? And we didn’t touch it after that.”

Fur: We finished it really quickly and didn’t overthink it.

Eli: “We continue to use those ways of making music. We start with the chords and a vocal and we build everything up around that. That’s what we did with You’re So High, one of the first tracks we ever made. It’s nice that it’s helped define how we make things going forward.”

Eli & Fur Producer Tips

In order to retain the magic and the vibe from your best ideas, Eli strongly advocates for finding the focal point of a track and leaving it intact. Fur agrees, and recommends being ruthless and chucking everything else out the window if it doesn’t lend itself to your core idea.

In the same vein, Fur speaks of the importance of keeping it simple. Not only in the production itself, but in the tools used. It’s far too easy to load dozens of plugins into your DAW, when actually, having too many tools in front of you can stunt your creative process. Instead, she recommends using a few choice plugins and sticking to them”.

Last year, in a reflective essay, “Eli & Fur revisit the emotional core of their album 'Dreamscapes' through a powerful series of remixes — exploring connection, creative trust, and the magic of transformation on the dance floor and beyond”. I have taken some selections from it:

“When we first released Dreamscapes, it felt like a deep exhale. The album was shaped in the quiet margins of life, those solitary wanderings between shows, early morning flights, the long stretches on the road where time feels suspended. That space became the heart of the record, and meant a huge deal to us. It's been cathartic and special like it always is putting out a body of work you believe in.

The music was always asking for a second life. A new shape. We love opening the door to other imaginations and seeing where other artists take each track. We’ve always been protective of our songs; they come from such personal places, but there is something thrilling about handing them over to artists we admire, and letting go of control.

Sinca was the first to come back with her take on "Insomnia." We played it first at Audio In San Francisco and it was just so gritty and sounded incredible in that room. We fell in love with this remix then and there – Sinca really is one to watch, she’s absolutely killing it and we love everything she’s doing. We often have our best memory of certain tracks when all the elements come together – it’s a beautiful moment as a DJ when you have the right track, at the right place, in the right time.

Monkey Safari brought their own unique energy too. We have been fans of theirs since we started making music, and we honestly couldn’t believe they picked "Oceanside," the slowest and furthest away from the dance floor on the whole album. We have such a deep connection to this track and it felt so special that they chose it because we knew how beautifully they craft a remix. It's a perfect summer moment now with such a groove, we can imagine this one being played during a golden-hour set somewhere coastal, waves rolling in, the crowd swaying gently in time.

What ties all these remixes together is that each one feels like a continuation of the journey. Dreamscapes was built on that feeling of being alone in a crowd, or together in silence. These new interpretations don’t erase that, they expand it. They give the songs new scenery to wander through, new atmospheres to explore. They honour the original sentiment while offering a totally new lens”.

With new singles and dates in the diary, I do think that the remarkable Eli & Fur are going to go from strength to strength. They are already so acclaimed and respected, yet there are some corners that do not know about them. It would be great to get a new interview for this year from the L.A.-based Eliza Noble and Jennifer Skillman. I really love Eli & Fur so, if they are playing London in the future, I might see if I can catch them. Go and spend some time with this…

WONDERFUL duo.

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