In Conversation With Hamish Hawk

I had the please of interviewing local legend Hamish Hawk over a cup of coffee, this was the conversation that ensued…

It was a grey, uninspiring day in Edinburgh to be juxtaposed so spectacularly when I sat down with the local legend of indie music, one Hamish Hawk for a chat regarding his creative process, latest LP “A Firmer Hand” and more.

There is always an air of anxious excitement when you’re about to chew the fat with someone that inspires you, but fortunately I was put at ease with a genuine welcome from Hamish, who proceeded to sit and engage with genuine interest in my barrage of questions; to which I am very thankful. I sat with my notebook lying open on the coffee table in front, sporting a messy mind map of topics to approach. I figured I’d start by addressing the obvious, today happened to be when Hamish and the band dropped their cover for Eurythmics “Sweet Dreams Are Made of This”, a track that spearheads the release of a forthcoming EP of covers in September. Upon congratulating him on the release I figured I’d ask what draws Hamish to creating and releasing covers; as especially nowadays it feels like an increasingly rare occurrence among professional musicians. “Fundamentally you do covers because it allows you to blow off steam and have fun in a way that’s a bit more care-free” A response that made total sense having just prior stated that he was “a perfectionist to a fault” and explaining just how involved and carefully considered the whole process is for the band’s original work. It was becoming immediately apparent to me that Hamish has a genuine love for music itself, and by attributing his own spin on music he admires, he is honouring that. As we’d opened talking interpreting the work of others, I decided to pivot into what music has inspired him throughout his career and ask about influences that affect the band’s workflow; to which he stated that his band has such a diverse music taste that they fortunately can draw from a plethora of genres. “We’re all like little islands in terms of music taste” he said referring to growing up with his family. This gave Hamish an appreciation for all sorts of sound from folk to hip-hop. As the youngest of three, there was plenty of different music to grow up with. “For me it was always about lyrics”. A statement that shines so truly throughout Hamish’s work that it did not surprise me in the slightest. “Its funny in the past few albums the bands that seem to get spoken of in the same breath as us, especially with Heavy Elevator, it was headed as post-punk but there were also songs on that album that were way more new-romantic” It was clear that Hawk and his band could draw from an amalgamation of inspirations, citing The Smiths, Joy Division, The Divine Comedy and crooners such as Scott Walker. “It’s never been too much about genre” Hamish makes it politely but passionately clear that labels are not considered when producing his projects “it’s unified by the fact it’s us”. With this said, he does say that he confidently still identifies the band as an “indie band” but that label bears no weight on the sound. I wanted to delve further into Hamish’s pinpoint obsession with his lyrics; as something that had drawn me to his music in the first place was his ability to weave catchy hooks and melodies with lyrics that still feel abundant in both substance and style, reading like poems. Taking a moment to answer, I could tell there was a genuine sincerity in wanting to convey his words correctly. He said that word play is very enjoyable, but that story and message is the most integral part, often you can dance around with too much clever wordplay and lose the substance; it’s important to tread that line carefully. I suppose maintaining a consistent level of style and substance is what makes Hamish’s writing process so gruelling but equally rewarding. He spoke of how important it is to consider the phonetics of the words in tandem; a quality of his writing that I myself had noticed but failed to pinpoint. “I do not want the songs in any way to be a labour to the listener”. Watching Hamish talk I could tell that there was such an evident passion to music that translates into an incredibly thorough process of song-crafting. Hearing him talk about the lag time between hearing words and understanding them, and how that affects the enjoyment of a track was something that I’d genuinely not heard a fan artist talk about before; but something I myself will take on board when writing in the future. It was almost TED talk like, the insight he was giving. I would hazard a guess to say that growing up with a passion for folk music may have sparked Hawk’s goal of conveying stories with clarity and words arranged like poems, satisfying to sing, and satisfying to listen to. Post further chit-chat on the importance of lyrics within his music, citing Bob Dylan keynotes, Milton quotes and the like; flattered by the response I decided to lead the conversation to his latest LP, A Firmer Hand, asking if on this record, he dug deeper into his own personal life and thoughts for the lyrical and thematic inspiration, and if so, what lasting impact that’s had on him as a person. He opened by noting that a few of the tracks on A Firmer Hand were in fact written years before the album came to fruition, one of which Questionable Hit, could have even featured on the previous LP. But there was a certain “bitterness” that didn’t fit with the less direct and contemplative nature of Angel Numbers. Setting that aside, Hamish then wrote Machiavelli’s Room, or in his words “it may sound silly, but the song - got written.” As if it were bursting to fall onto the page, I could tell Hamish was being genuine when he said he didn’t really clock quite what he was writing until he could stand back and view it for what it was. “It’s the songs on A Firmer Hand that guided it into being; I didn’t set out to write this kind of album.” He knew that Machiavelli’s room had to come out, and that it almost demanded a vehicle in which to do so; guiding the tone for the project to avoid sounding discordant. Having never spoken on his sexuality within his music, beyond leaving nods or hints for the “discerning listener” “I kicked the door down with Machiavelli’s room” he said with a laugh. “It was never that I had purposely not addressed it” Hamish wanted to make clear, it was just within the process of creating AFH that it became apparent that it would be addressed. “It isn’t just about queer sexuality, it’s also generally about masculinity” The songs explore both what being a “man” means to Hamish, relationships with men in his life, and the general concept of masculinity and how we define it. “It was a hugely revealing process for me unpacking a lot of subconscious ruminations in masculinity, friends of mine, family members, colleagues, lovers, bosses and men in authority/media.” mentioning that even the tracks that deal less overtly with sexuality such as Men Like Wire were still hugely revealing and worthwhile for him to create and explore. “A Firmer Hand, has allowed me now, for want of a better phrase has allowed to be to feel far more comfortable in myself” It was lovely to hear that the creative process for the album had been both eye-opening and therapeutic for Hamish; music being a gift to both the listeners and the artist is part of what makes it so special.

It was this at this point I segwayed into an entirely separate topic but one that from prior to the interview felt like a necessary one to investigate. I wanted to gather Hamish’s thoughts on being labelled very often as a “scottish musician” as I personally felt like being pigeon-holed by your nationality like that may feel rather unfair or annoying when constant, and you don’t get that treatment if you’re english for example. Wanting to know where he stood, if there was a level of national pride or none at all, intrigued me. He opened by making it abundantly clear that he grew up with a massive interest and involvement with the Scottish indie scene, noting a plethora of acts throughout the years that he has both enjoyed and been inspired by. “The Scottish music scene has given me my career” “My blood runs scottish when it comes to music” It was clear that Hamish did not want to disrespect or discredit the scene that he loves at all, but was careful to note that he believes you’d be hard pressed to find anyone else in the scene that would disagree that the Scottish music scene can have a “parochial” attitude that comes in tandem with wanting to protect and somewhat isolate itself. “I’m very thankful for the Scottish music scene but I and the band were always quite careful not to be pigeon-holed in that way; we always wanted to be as present in England, Wales and beyond as we were in Scotland” I mentioned that when I first came across his music I had no idea he was scottish, and that my dad had showed me, to which Hawk laughed and chuckled that he’d “heard that one before” I said that he’d done a great job of showing appreciation to his heritage whilst not allowing the band to be boxed in, which led him to say that “with all this being said, I am very privileged to be part of the Scottish music scene because the quality is very high and always has been particularly for lyrically based music.” Bless him, it was very clear Hamish didn’t want to come across at all criticising of the label; and he of course conveyed this; showing that there is a balance between pride but also not wanting to be limited; an important nuance.

Remembering that I’m writing for the University of Edinburgh’s Independent Music Society I knew I had to interrogate Hamish on his knowledge of the local scene, if he had any favourite bands to shout out and the like. It was then that I was actually met with a certain dismay, as Hamish proceeded to confess that due to how tumultuous and hectic his life has been with the recent success of his music in the last few years, he’s been drawn away from the local scene and felt disconnected; which he clearly felt sad about. After talking about just how chaotic life had been for him, and the sheer volume of gigs and touring that then takes place; he said that with “sorrow” gigging becomes so aligned with work that downtime is therefore no-longer that. “It’s awful to say that” Hamish mutters but of course it’s wholly understandable; and something that musicians rarely speak about; when your passion becomes your job it's a  wonderful thing but it does direct your spare-time to other interests and places. “Obviously I’m aware of a lot of the emerging Scottish talent but I wouldn’t say I’m as aware of say the bands that are currently headlining Sneaky Pete’s” It was clear that this topic was saddening for Hamish as I joked that he’d almost been “taken away” from the scene, which is somewhat an inevitability with success. Hamish then showed strong support for Lizzie Reid, bassist in his band and solo musician in her own right, with lyrical and compositional talent that Hamish said he was rather envious of. There was a definite authenticity to the praise and I could tell he is thoroughly inspired by her work, and so I would whole-heartedly forward this recommendation. Praising bands that have existed a little longer such as Walt Disco, he then mentioned that he had come across numerous talented artists that seemed to not be there one second and then huge the next; citing a recent friendship with artist Katy Gregson-MacLeod, who had found sudden success with TikTok, an ever-growing trend for artists of the current day. He also recommended Jacob Alon, but once again emphasized that he feels like his knowledge isn’t as extensive as he wishes it was.

Having once again been pulled into conversation that was both engaging and enjoyable, I remembered the task at hand and questioned Hamish on what advice he would give to young local musicians in the area (such as those of you that are members of the society) to which Hamish was cautious to mention that he could only really speak from his own experience; not wanting to lead any others that may find success elsewhere, or those that don’t have the same access to facilities etc that he did. “I’ve been making music for over a decade now and there are a lot of musicians who when I was 23-24 were my contemporaries, who don’t make music anymore. But if you’d ask me then who would be the ones leading the vanguard now I would’ve said those people. They don’t make music anymore and that’s not a failing on their part, often it’s an active choice” “But there is intermittently that voice in your head that goes ‘am I gonna make it? Is it worth it?’ and it's a scary voice” Hamish mentioned that he’d fortunately only been confronted by those thoughts a few times and they’ve “never been too loud [or] too persuasive a voice” but addressed those that feel as if music is a driving passion and all-consuming hobby with the advice to “be patient, and stay with it, don’t expect too much if it too soon because you can extinguish the little flame that you have” “Do it fundamentally for yourself.” This wasn’t brief or fleeting wisdom from Hamish, as with all answers he’d given throughout the interview it he went into great detail and explanation with each point, and alas I am constricted to the medium of writing a concise article to pick apart at key points. Having had the privilege of listening to in-depth and well-constructed answers for the past forty minutes, I attempted to try and stump him with questions too simple to give an elaborate answer to: Favourite film? Favourite album? But of course that led into a passionate conversation in which the plot of the Wicker Man was explained to my uncultured self - and then shared appreciation for Stephen Merritt’s lyricism who Hamish cited as being his most inspiring lyricist working today after stating that 69 Love Songs by The Magnetic Fields would be his desert island disk. Oh and he also really likes Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory. That and the Wicker Man. Rather eclectic. Rather suitable for the man.

I’d like to give a massive thank you to Hamish for agreeing to and doing this interview with me, and would encourage those of you reading that haven’t already acquainted yourself with his band’s work to do so immediately, as the concoction of musical influences and ideas for some incredibly talented musicians collectively comes together into music that I think everyone can find an aspect to enjoy from. 

Wild God

An insight into Nick Cave’s latest ambition…

Rarely does an artist reach a stature upon which their live performances can be hailed as an “incredible mass spiritual outpouring”, but according to The Guardian, Nick Cave, an artist I’ve read described as the “thinking man’s goth”, an artist that over the course of a career spanning almost half a century, has cemented himself as a spectral steed of live performance, delivering unrivalled showmanship, can achieve exactly that.

            Alongside his band The Bad Seeds, including long-time friend and collaborator Warren Ellis, and with Radiohead’s very own Colin Greenwood deputising for bass, Cave released his latest LP titled “Wild God” at the end of August this year. It was one of my most anticipated projects for the year, having gotten deeply into Cave’s music through my dad’s influence after seeing him and his fellow bad seeds headlining All Points East in 2022. Understanding that I shared a familiar fondness for music for the weepy man (a la Radiohead), it was rather predictable that eventually Dad would attempt to indoctrinate me into the cult of the Cave; boy did it work, a little too well. August 2024 did indeed come, and with it a healthy dose of Cave in a rather grandiose, and predictably poetic lexis. A catalogue of music that travels from the grungey basement clubs of the 90s post-punk scene to the ascending heights of almost gospel, “Wild God” follows in a similar vein to the band’s previous work “Ghosteen” but with a greater emphasis on the theatrical, grief at the stage of acceptance, complementing both Skeleton Tree and Ghosteen which feel stripped back to rawer emotion; Cave is growing and moving forward. Safe to say, I was a big fan of the album, earning itself a rightful spot in my top albums of the year; but could the tour deliver?

            See prior to the release of Wild God my very sweet mother had surprised me with tickets to see Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds live at the OVO Hydro in Glasgow, early November. Two tickets in fact; so that my girlfriend Emma could accompany me. Now these were no cheap tickets, floating around the £50 mark it was resting on the assumption that Wild God would live up to the hype, and safe an assumption it was.

Track forward to November 3rd, the night of. I had never been to the Hydro before, and was immediately surprised by its uncanny alien-bug-eye form and neon green lighting, looking like an unheard of gaming pc peripheral. I wasn’t convinced it would be the most charming of venues to witness such an event, but once again my expectations were turned on their head upon entry. Spherical and sporting cascading upper seating into a spacious dancefloor, the Hydro felt as close to an indoor colosseum as perhaps you could venture. Pleasantly impressed by my surroundings, alas my mood was momentarily dampened by a lacklustre supporting act. A small, underground band that no one has ever heard of, Black Country, New Road.

Yes, thanks to Ticketmaster I was indeed made privy to the appearance of a certain flute and accordion-wielding collective, and was nervous as to the experience that would unfold. Without engaging in too much discussion of this band, I was sceptical of what they would come out with in a post-Isaac world. I was a fan of their Live at Bush Hall effort, and so I gazed with an open mind, but that night, Black Country, New Road sadly disappointed. I was now firmly amongst those who felt that the group were in desperate need of a charismatic frontman once more, and that even within the instrumentation it felt as if they’d lost their passion, becoming almost a parody of themselves with the over-use of pipework. Losing themselves in through-composed melancholy, every track blended into the next like a wall of rather dull pretentious noise. Cave couldn’t come sooner.

And come he did. A good thirty minutes after BCNR wrapped up their set (with no sign of glee nor thanks to the audience) and had hurried off stage in a huff, the vibe was back. Down nearly eight great british pounds with a belly-full (one pint actually) of bottom-barrel Prahva, I bustled closer to Emma with excitement; it’s time for bloody Nick! On came The Bad Seeds, waving with the earnt charm and enthusiasm of their aging selves. Swagger. Accompanied by a posse of soul singers dressed in sparkly angelic dresses I was beginning to see how this could be indeed likened to the spiritual. Opening to one of the lead singles for Wild God: Frogs, on pranced Cave himself, with all his Dr Seuss-esque feng shui. Moving around the stage like a prehistoric bird, you could not believe this man is pushing seventy. What followed could only be described as majestic. Two-and-a-half hours of purest theatrics. A set that channelled divinity into devilishly good delivery, paced to perfection with a medley of emotion, they brought it up, and they brought it down. There was rarely a point Cave wasn’t leering into the crowd, arms wide with hands reaching up to grab his like an evangelist preacher. You’d even find yourself forgetting he was indeed just a man and not the second coming of Jesus with the aura he boasted. He really lives it. Every ounce of energy is shifted into every syllable and with equal vigour and conviction. You believe you the joy, you believe the anger and you believe the heartbreak. From the tears in his eyes as he plays a solo piano rendition of “I Need You” to the screaming vocals of “From Her to Eternity” backed by a thumping cacophony of instrumentation, I’ve never seen a performance that feels as genuine; as natural. Again, it speaks to Cave’s talent and longevity that he can crush a live performance this deep into his career, and it’s a feat that all artists that consider themselves rockstars should endeavour for. Despite being only a young’un myself, I do feel a quaint joy in seeing a legend of the game absolutely washing all modern acts, serving as a warning that maybe the new kids on the block ought to knuckle down and try a little harder (I’m looking at you BCNR). To pull off a set of that length, that magnitude, without missing a beat or dropping a notch off the heat, is truly remarkable. Not once did it drag or tire. Moments seered into my mind of bodacious tenacity; a sea of hundreds humming the “la la las” of Red Right Hand awaiting eagerly the chime of the tubular bell; the flawless transition of a Wild God entry to an 80s classic crowd pleaser. Oh they are THAT good. And to praise Nick is not to discredit the incredible effort of everyone else that stood upon that stage that evening, including the stagehand that had to keep picking up Warren Ellis’s instruments after he’d throw them onto the floor in a frenzy. Everybody shone. Everybody played their part to perfection and grooved like a well-oiled machine into the night. Bravo the The Bad Seeds.

Buzzing from what we had just beheld, Emma confessed that despite having her doubts that it was going to be “sad old man music” she had in fact been blown away, and considered it one of, if not the best gig she’d attended. Ah yes, another convert to the cult of Cave. I’ve now been privileged to see him and his band perform twice now, and I cannot understate how appreciative I am for that. Inspiring, deeply moving, and of course, utterly entertaining, I would recommend that anyone given the opportunity should bear witness too.

Art-Pop: Reflective or Reductive?

Our first guest article comes from writer & radio host Anna, giving her opinion on that big label.

About two years ago I created a playlist which inspired this article called “avant-garde pop? art-pop?” and that pretty much sums up the way I see the mystical and ambiguous music within this genre. As the way we generate and consume culture has been revolutionized by modern technology, the meaning of the popular has changed; the commonly made distinction between ‘high’ and ‘low’ culture, the ‘serious’ and the ‘popular’, has been radically erased. Arguably, the musical movement that catalysed and paved this change (at least in the Western world) was Art-pop and its embrace of the avant-garde, experimental and camp, fundamentally setting apart today's popular culture from any other in time. However, the baggage of this change in contemporary culture isn’t all that light, it comes with great complication and increased ambiguity of meanings and conceptions of artistic movements themselves. The question I’m asking is whether this is true for Art-pop. Why did I decide Talk Talk could be placed into the same playlist as Marina Herlop? How can a singular genre label group Billie Eilish and Arthur Russell together? Do these labels reduce artists and their music for the sake of simplicity or are the semantic ambiguities reflective of the multitude of sonic elements?

Art-pop originated from two main sources: firstly, the increased number of artists taking to music and performance in art schools, and secondly the birth of Pop-Art in the 1960s – both influencing the name. Art schools during the 1960s in the UK particularly offered artists a space to fully embrace their creativity, individuality, and art in their preferred manifestation, influenced by theories of fashion, fine art or even cinema. Parallel to the emergence of pop art in the US, art-pop took on an extravagant, experimental, and avant-garde attitude towards popular culture. Andy Warhol, the Factory, and the Velvet Underground show the symbiotic growth of these artistic mediums, demonstrating their goal of transforming art into a commodity. The nature of this new style of musical identity inferred a tension between ‘high’ culture and ‘mass’ culture; between creativity and commerce, breaking down historical myths made about contemporary art. Artists such as the Beatles, the Beach Boys, David Bowie and Brian Eno first set the theatrical stage on which Art-pop could flourish on. These theatrical and camp performances and embodiments lend themselves to another enormously significant influence of Art-pop: queerness. A transcendental play of queer identity, gender and sexuality serve as foundational stones in the formation of Pop-art hence Art-pop (this will have to be a subject for volume 2). The 1980s and 1990s were for Art-pop it’s time to truly find its form. Artists like Kate Bush, Björk (the personification of Art-pop), Fiona Apple, Stereolab, Kraftwerk and many more subsequently began the critical journey of cementing a new musical genre. From the 2000s onwards, Art-pop has become an increasingly broader term, encapsulating artists like FKA Twigs, Charli XCX, and Animal Collective.

When David Byrne was asked whether what he makes is ‘art’ or a ‘product,’ he replied: “I feel I’m successful when I combine both together, when people forget the distinction between the two. If I can do a video which can be artistically successful and still get shown on TV, then I've got the best of both worlds.” This is the spirit of Art-pop. Inherently postmodernist because of its drawings on avant-garde and Romantic movements, Art-pop is essentially formalism made “socially acceptable in the pop world” as Nick Coleman wrote. In the simplest of terms, Art-pop bridges conventional popular music structures and styles with ‘high art’ and ambitious experimentation. This results in a sound that might initially seem daunting or intimidating, yet it is rendered accessible and grasped by mass appeal through the focus on commodifying ‘high’ forms of art. Due to its already long life, Art-pop has evolved and birthed multiple subgenres like dream pop, hyperpop, and certain contemporary forms of R&B. The plethora of albums that therefore fall into the Art-pop category is overwhelming. Importantly, since the birth of Art-pop, it has been inseparable from fashion and art, creating a sort of triangulation; the holy trinity of art, fashion and pop. Think Lady Gaga’s meat dress, Björk’s swan dress, or Ziggy Stardust. Because of this central influence, Art-pop is almost synonymous with the theatrical, the camp, and the glam in popular culture.

The label Art-pop does run into issues that most artistic labels must combat. Words can both intentionally yet inexplicitly pigeonhole artists into categories of sounds and themes that have little to nothing to do with each other. Labels inherently imply an assumption – whether rightful or not – that what falls under them is linked, whether that’s stylistically or thematically. There should be some sense in the label; some clear communication between the name, its meaning, and the object it claims to describe. However, it isn’t always clear what the connections between Billie Eilish and Arthur Russel are. You could potentially draw out a chart linking the two, it’s possible, but would this giant chart – as it would need to be pretty big - justify the ascription of these artists in the same category? Wouldn’t it just alienate them both from the category itself, and successively obfuscate the genre as a whole? Is one small aesthetic intersection enough? This homogenization of diverse sounds and innovations results in a nondescript term that no longer holds much meaning. Furthermore, through this homogenization, efforts made by artists, whether experimental or not, are diluted and their ambitions blurred into a big murky soup. Essentially their artistic individuality becomes obsolete. Labels like Art-pop homogenize artists who each have a deep individual conception of their music with an array of influences.

Although it might be supposed that the aforementioned triangulation of art, fashion and pop that Art-pop embraces is a physical reflection of its characteristics, art and fashion have arguably become hallmarks of subjectivity in any musical genre. The way that individuality and personality have become a sort of public good; the way in which ways of living have been commodified and how that is reflected through art, is something that isn’t unique to Art-pop as it may have once been. The curation of audiences, the consumer as the ‘product’ and subsequently the artist as the ‘producer,’ and consequently the reflection within the audience of a certain genre through fashion, art, and self-expression has now arguably become ubiquitous in the music world. Whether you’re an Avant-folk listener, rock musical fan, or death industrial enjoyer, we have come to embody to some extent the way we experience music as the self has been moulded to personality. However, this isn’t necessarily a reductive aspect of the genre label, on the contrary: it is a projection of how our egocentric capitalist world has changed the way we experience ourselves in relation to culture.

The nature of Art-pop is inherently contradictory on the foundations of our classical understanding of high and low culture/art; therefore, the presence of conflicting themes and styles should come as no surprise. The label itself is a step in our constant redefining of art and culture, in erasing the standards by which we have always judged art and, hence life. It is a genre made to put forward creative differences and fuse them into one tangible form. The concept itself suggests an ambiguity and undefinable characteristic of sound. It is defined in such a way that it gives artists absolute creativity, reduces all experiences to expression; and reduces it to a form unscathed by external forces as it is above all art. Art-pop deliberately blurs the lines of its borders, which is why – even though it might be hard to accept – Xiu Xiu and Frank Ocean fall under the same category. The term art in itself is one that we know is extremely contested, whether in asking what art is, or who gets to be part of this group. The intentional openness of the term reflects the varieties that fall within it. Moreover, the idea that Art-pop embraces all forms of experimentation is a greater demonstration of the justification for these seemingly random combinations, as experimentation enacts uniqueness.

There is an assumption that comes with labels and that is the sound’s strict coherence to the meaning. This is the way history has taught us to view cultural movements, from Baroque to Surrealism or Jazz to Eurodance. We have strict conditions for what makes one a brick in the wall. I have for too long assumed the meaning to be synonymous with the compositional elements of the music, however, Art-pop is far more than that. It’s a philosophy at heart. A philosophy which merges the self with the commercial to the point of individual obliteration, simultaneously philosophy of aesthetic autonomy. Its paradoxical and fragmented nature is a consequence of our fragmented postmodern life. This in itself is a movement in our cultural world that has spread across genres, blurring the lines of genre isolation as a whole.

Suggestions:

-       Joanne Robertson

-       Marina Herlop

-       Sheena Ringo

-       Satanicpornocultshop

-       The Residents

-       Deakin

-       Gustavo Cerati

-       Jun Togawa

-       Faye Wong

-       Juana Molina

-       Saya Gray

-       Feu! Chatterton

-       Waterbaby

A Penny (or 3) For Your Thoughts?

Secretary Luke Reynolds sits down for a chat with local wizards, A Mean Green 3p Slot Machine, oof, quite a mouthful.

On the 27th of May 2024 I met up with some of the members of A (Mean Green) 3p Slot Machine [3p] to talk about them, their music and the state of the Edinburgh scene. They are a perfect candidate for an interview with a local artist, not only are they technically and musically brilliant, they also represent an emerging psych scene in a post-punk and alt-rock dominated Edinburgh. With a myriad of recent shows, notably Stag and Dagger day festival, plenty of slots at Sneaky Pete’s and an upcoming King Tut’s debut, 3p are becoming a force in the local scene.

When talking to me about the local Psych scene, frontman and guitarist Gordon McGruer said “its an exciting time … as we’ve played more gigs we’ve found more bands like us”. Their first gig was in Bannerman’s, supporting a metal band, and much of their early shows were alongside garage rockers and now, they are finally finding their niche. Key to this has been Curiosity Shop, a group which shares members with 3p, who are aiming to build up more of a scene in Edinburgh and match 3p’s recent “folk leanings”. The Psych scene is already present according to Drummer Duncan Biggar, who refused their role as a unique element in the scene, saying “its not like these bands aren’t around … I really think they just appear to you once you start getting into it, [I’d recommend] bands like Dinosaur 94 and Bütter”. The real issue with the presence of Psych in Edinburgh comes down to labelling. Indeed, Gordon told me that “Psych is a term that can be slapped on anything and so two “psych” bands can sound nothing alike”. This labelling issue may be hurting Psych in the UK where events such as Edinburgh Psychfest have a line up which highlights metal groups like Pigs X7 and the punky post-brexit rock scene (O. or HotWax) due to how wide Psych is. Although, this is no bad thing and, as 3p said, psych influence is so broad it can contain metal and punk groups as well as folkier groups like themselves. Nevertheless, it does make it overall harder to create a defined psych scene due to how blurred the lines are in the genre.

After some time discussing our favourites from the psych scene broadly, like Australia’s King Gizzard and the Wizard Lizard and unique bands like Surprise Chef, we moved on to Edinburgh more generally. Principally, we talked about why it stays in the shadow of Glasgow and more broadly why London dominates the UK music sphere. Bassist Linus Sheaff proposing that “there’s a shortage of venues, a real shortage of venues, how many gigs have we done at Sneakys now?” - four in the last few months is the answer - “If we wanna go bigger there’s nowhere between here and something way too big for us”. Indeed, Duncan confirmed that “it’s the (lack of) mid-sized venues, there’s so few compared to Glasgow - they all just get shut down in Edinburgh, even just now the Jazz Bar’s gone”. Luckily, the Edinburgh scene has been afforded some good news as the Jazz Bar is returning in a slightly new form and under new leadership but maintaining the same concept. The same cannot be said for Summerhall, which is a real cornerstone of live music in Edinburgh. Sadly, speculations into its future as an arts venue have begun and rumours of property development and more inaccessible and unaffordable flats are growing. Losing Summerhall would be a real shame for the scene, especially as their Old Lab venue is the perfect size for growing local bands like 3p.

It's not all doom and gloom for new bands in Edinburgh though! 3p, mirroring Young Fathers, could not overstate the importance of Sneaky Pete’s. Furthermore, they had nothing but praise for Bannerman’s which they strongly recommended as a venue to apply to for gigs early on in a bands development. If there was one thing in Edinburgh which the band had praise for though, it would be Sneaky Pete’s sound tech, Gordon. According to 3p’s frontman, his namesake “seems like a man from the future. He looks like me, he’s got the same missing tooth as me, he dresses like me, but he’s just a bit older. He’s come back from the future to hype me up in a Back to the Future Marty McFly type of thing; he’s come to cement our career.”

Throughout our interview it became apparent that, for a local band, A (Mean Green) 3p Slot Machine is unique in the experience and musicianship present and, as such, investigating their older projects was important to see how they got here. Gordon discussed his old outfit Red Heron, who played gigs in Camden’s Dublin Castle and released an impressive self-titled album in November 2022. According to McGruer: “Red Heron was a band that I started when I was 10 or 11 which went from Red Hot Chilli Peppers covers, to Radiohead covers to finally writing our own material. It’s nice to look back on that, it’s some of the first songs I wrote, but I look at it as more immature and a bit more obvious when it comes to what I was listening to and generally into at that time – it was more energetic and rockier too”.  Duncan is part of Curiosity Shop, alongside 3p bandmate Yann McAuley. Like Gordon had discussed with Red Heron, energy was the principle difference between 3p and Curiosity Shop,  “Curiosity Shop never gets to a point in the set where you’re just letting loose and flailing your limbs like you can do with 3p. Maybe one of the reasons Psych gets put on bands is because it is what you call a rock band that takes influences from everywhere. A lot of bands that take influence from jazz or African music or other music from around the world they just call it Psych. So 3p is different because they really take influence from everywhere”. Contrastingly, Curiosity Shop remains within folk as a genre, whereas A (Mean Green) 3p Slot Machine really goes everywhere and anywhere genre wise.

The band has undergone quite a lot of creative changes recently, and it was hard not to wonder how this affected their creative process. Their process seems to be as follows. Typically, Gordon will write a guitar part and vocals, and occasionally a bassline, and then they work out the song together as a band. A major change has been the departure of drummer James Kealy, a member of Glasgow’s Alt-Rock band One Nine Eight, and Duncan Biggar coming in to replace him on the tubs. For bassist Linus this has been a major and positive shift, as it moved them out of rock, “I’m really not rocky, I’m not from a rock background at all. Growing up I played Jazz and Funk so as a rhythm section I find it easy to relate to Duncan (due to his myriad of influences outside of rock). It’s really nice. It feels great!”. This new feel has also affected how Gordon writes his guitar parts, “For me it’s interesting because I have to hold back, even on acoustic, it’s really fun and more rhythmic”. Duncan’s fresh take and unique elements of influence was clear when he told me about his favourite drum part he had written.

“The drum part on Orange - the verse groove - is really nice. I wrote it and I just really really hoped Gordon said yes to it. I play a lot of samba music and there’s this rhythm in the northeast of Brazil called Maracatu and I sort of adapted a Maracatu ensemble sound, using the floor tom as the big drums and the snare as the caixa to make this little groove for the verse. I think it’s my magnum opus. I didn’t hear it was Maracatu when I was playing it, and I was thinking ‘this is fucking sick I’ve just invented something amazing’ and then I was like ‘oh wait these guys have been playing this in Brazil for 200 years’ .” - Duncan

It seemed the band had changed their music quite significantly, and this was obvious particularly from how Amit Brandhuber, who has changed instrument from an electric guitar to a lap steel, discussed how he saw the band. This was principally a textural change, in part caused by Gordon's move from electric to acoustic guitar but also a general move from rockier to folkier tunes. Balance is vital to the five piece, and so because Gordon often provides busy finger picking lines that take up a lot of space, Amit has created a role for himself which he coined as textural guitar, which first saw him play slide guitar and now a lap steel. Amit also praised fellow band mate Yann McAuley for his textural importance as the 

multi-instrumentalist creating soundscapes which are what truly elevates the band in his eyes. When discussing his point of view as a musician he said:

“I’m not all that interested when someone plays technically, for me it’s all about the sound ( of the whole ensemble), and how its produced. It’s the textural choices that really matter. Music is almost just sort of copying with variation and creating new ideas – even when separately those ideas have been done before. A sound is great for that, you can play something in the context of a new sound. It just sounds so different and it makes people feel differently. For me that is my main interest.” – Amit

This love of texture and sound has made the band really excited to record, because it grants them “another level of textural control” (Gordon). They plan on professionally recording the tracks from their demo tape and adding a few new ones too. The original tape is nothing to scoff at though, and is what Duncan light-heartedly refers to as “fancy demos”. Considering the four tracks - which make up half an hour's total play time - were recorded over just two days, and the core of the songs done in just a few hours, they hold up amazingly well. More impressively, Gordon mixed the whole thing in one night, “at the time I was in student accommodation, and I was really surprised my neighbour didn’t complain about the noise. But Snapchat had deleted itself from my phone. He didn’t knock at the time, but it turns out he had an exam the next day and he was so pissed off at me because I was just blasting these tunes while I mixed them”. This new project should be out in the next few months and for the band it is a nice opportunity to archive the work that represents their older and rockier sound, immortalising this part of their writing whilst allowing them to work on their newer softer work. This recorded work may be mastered to tape, something Gordon did with Red Heron, but will definitely have a more lofi, tape-esque texture. Generally, the band adores the work from the golden age of recording in the 60s and 70s, because – according to Linus – “those older recordings sound like a band instead of a series of individual tracks”.

For a band that is clearly thoughtful, when it comes to the scene they are in and the sound they embody, they manage to skirt around the pretentiousness this level of consideration can come with. This is, in part, thanks to their fantastic aesthetic direction, which is predominantly done by Gordon himself. As these posters show they are stunning pieces of art, but also lean into the absurd. Furthermore, their recent press shots show them in front of a public loo and their lyrics speak of the importance of Lidl and the joys of a nice Chickpea dish – in a coriander glaze. This is more than just an attempt to avoid accusations of pretentiousness though. It is an active decision to help avoid one of arts greatest enemies: perfectionism. This humour reminds them that really the whole point of it is to have fun, and by staying lighthearted the band agree it produces their best work.

Finally, they were asked a question which many unsuspecting artists will have to face, and a tough one to answer.  Is A (Mean Green) 3p Slot Machine important to music? This was instantly met by a loud “Nahhhhh” by Duncan. After a bit more laughing the band concluded this:

“Depends what you define importance as, if I go and see a band and I am inspired by it then the scale doesn’t matter. Promoting inspiration that’s what’s important. It’s about making people have fun, making people dance!” – Duncan

Personally, I think 3p Slot Machine does more than just inspire people to have fun. As a creative myself they make me think and consider where I’m going creatively due to their obvious awareness of their sound and aesthetics. Their awareness and how this creates purpose is something I find deeply enviable, but hopefully it will bring them much deserved success and growth in the scene.

All Weather. All Man. All of the Time.

A few days ago I had the pleasure of conducting a short and informal interrogation of sorts on our upcoming headline performers from Glasgow; the band known as Weatherman. The conversation was held through Instagram DMs, and has been transcribed and reformatted as follows:

So - admin of the Weatherman band Instagram page talk to me: are you THE weatherman? Who is The Weatherman? What does this name mean?

Hahaha it’s all of us including manager, it’s a lucky dip.

To whom am I speaking currently?

You were speaking to another member but I’ve just logged on - Matt

Are you the weatherman Matt? And if not, talk to me about the origin of this name.

I’m not the weatherman, I'm not sure if there is a weatherman. Louis (guitarist/lyricist) came up with after many failed, collective deliberation sessions. He probably has a good reason for it that I don't know or have forgotten, but I do know I liked it when I heard it.

Hi (Louis here) the name came after a relatively lengthy process of me and Charlie texting each other potential band names in Autumn of 2022. There is no ‘weatherman’, but ‘weather’ or not people want to read into it is up to them.

Autumn of 2022? So that’s a few years you guys have been a full band or has the lineup changed? What brought you all together?

Lineup don’t change. We strong together weather men. Brought together by love of weather. Love of rain, sun, wind, snow.

Does each member have a weather? For example, frontman is sun and bassist is rain for obvious reasons?

All weather. All man. All of the time. But drums defo wind cause he let rip 24/7.

Wicked. I like that. You guys seem really united and strong together, how does that pit you against your rivals in Glasgow? Is there a friendly competition or is the community all supportive?

Glasgow community very strong. So many good bands… PVC, Escher, Milange, Panda Car

Shoutout the Glaswegians! Now these are you peers but let’s talk delve more into musical influences, your music has received comparisons to bands such as BCNR and Maruja, would you cite them as influential to your sound? And if not who?

Influences range from Randy Newman to Dungeon Synth.

Ah Randy Newman! You’ve got a friend in me!

That’s clearly a diverse range of influences, are you planning on bedding leftfield at any point in the future with your upcoming music to try new sounds or do you feel like you’ve found what works best for you?

It’s more fun to play around with different stuff. The more diverse the better I say!

That’s a promising mindset I look forward to hearing what you’ll be cooking up, have you got a game plan for releases? Can we expect an LP on the way?

We’re very skint at the moment so nothing coming up immediately. No game plan sadly.

It would be nice to get signed first. So, we’re just trying not to be complacent and keep moving forward as a band. Also, BCNR and Maruja are both great and I think the music they put out has opened up some fertile ground for bands generally to get more creative and push their music in a wider array of directions.

Speaking of “pushing” you’re a band that’s been around a few years, in that time what have been the biggest adversities you’ve had to face? The biggest hurdles, challenges and such? Give me 3 band struggles.

Matt has a cuckoo alarm clock set on his phone that has been problematic when I’ve had to share a room with him. We suspect a shadowy organisation is manipulating our minds and music (not sure tho). Louis struggles to see the bright side of life.

In all seriousness, having time to collaborate and flesh out new tracks is a commodity for us at the moment. Being 4th year students money also poses a problem for recording the tracks and getting them how we want them to sound. We really want our sound to be distinct from other bands that are currently doing incredibly well. There’s definitely a lot of imposter syndrome-esque feeling to that aspect as we’re a small band and being compared to similar sounds is inevitable, yet appreciated. - Matt and Eoin

I appreciate that guys, lastly give me 3 reasons why people should be excited for your upcoming gig, I’m on the way to see the smile today; what are you lot doing better than good old Thom and co?

I hope you enjoy the smile! That’s tricky. In terms of doing something ‘better’, I guess it’s inevitable that we’re making music at a time where people like Thom York and Johnny Greenwood are firmly part of the musical foundation that bands can refer to for ideas. Hopefully, we will be better at being ‘newer’ as the cabinet of inspiration is stocked high.

You should be excited to see us if a) you enjoy live music. We’re going to do our best to play well and keep y’all swell - and the support acts are great!

B) We’ll hopefully have some new songs (all new if you’ve never seen us (bonus))

C) We’re excited. So it will be great to see people there.

Cheers for talking to me lads, earth, wind, snow etc, been a pleasure and good luck for your gig!

Thank you!