Wild Beasts Interview published in Volume 5, Dec. 2008 [original article]
Having released their debut album and played numerous gigs across Europe, Wild Beasts are well on their way. Pascoe Sabido meets them to talk turtle-necks, Topman and leaving the Lake District.
A non-descript white van lurks behind the Shepherds Bush Empire. Jumping in and out with well-wrapped drums, guitars, amps, and other bizarrely-shaped objects are Hayden, 22, Benny, 21, Tom, 23, and Chris (Bert to his friends and fans), 22; aka the Wild Beasts. Still accustomed to shifting their own gear, the boys are careful not to get carried away – “The first time somebody sets up your amp you feel like a dick head, but after a while, if you’re not careful, you can kind of expect it” Tom warns. “As long as you appreciate it’s a luxury, then you’re fine”. Dressed casually, the four would not stand out from the crowd – unless you count Benny the guitarist’s decision to sport a turtle-neck. No tattoos, drug addictions, or Kate Moss, there is a welcoming lack of pretence, replaced instead by an air of gratitude to be where they are and an enthusiasm for what they do. Despite abandoning the small Lake District town of Kendal for the bright lights of Leeds, London, and beyond, they remain rooted to their humble beginnings, to a place more famed for mint cake than music. Set to return to the festival circuit as their first album debuts, the band are taking their unique brand of indie-pop to anyone who cares to listen, while keeping their heads down and getting on with the serious business of making music.
Taking their name from the Fauvist French painters who dared to tinker with tradition, the Wild Beasts aim to do just that. Their sound is immediately recognisable through lead-vocalist Hayden’s high, self-taught falsetto, his wanderings dancing around the octave like an Operatic Elvis swinging a cat: “What’s wrong with being individual? There was a time when individuality was celebrated and appreciated. For some reason it’s become taboo to not sound like the Stooges”. It works, and, complemented by bassist Tom’s Morrisey-esque tenor, the two are placed over lively melodic guitars, keys, the odd organ, and unobtrusive percussion, with Baritone Bert helping out when needed. The music is organic, upbeat, yet at times sombre: “Every song can be deadly serious but still have an element of humour” explains Hayden. Unequivocally, the sound is pop, a label the band embrace: “We don’t think we’re anything more amazing than pop music” emphasises Tom, “You can realise anything you want with it, there’s no set parameters”. “It’s not generic” Bert adds, the Wild Beasts drummer, “It’s just ‘pop’ in the good old-fashioned sense of the word”.
The group began anytime between three and six years ago – depending on which member you ask – in their Lake District hometown. Far from a musical Mecca, opportunities of enlightenment were limited – “You’d find yourself going to 12 bar blues bands” says Tom, “Just because you wanted to see music”. The few live performances the boys gave in Kendal revolved around a small bar called Dicky Doodles, owned by “the maestro Jerry Gillard – an 80′s biker throwback”. These were the giddy heights of Kendal ‘scene’. The boys were desperate to escape both the limited musical opportunity and the confined, bleak Kendal outlook Hayden writes of in The Old Dog. Leeds came to their rescue, taking the three guitarists into its Universities, and landing Bert a job in Topman.
Having made a name for themselves at the Faversham’s ‘Bad Sneakers’ nights – and releasing their first single ‘Brave Bulging Buoyant Clairvoyant’ on the Bad Sneakers label – the Wild Beasts now consider Leeds their musical home, made special by venues such as the quintessentially-Leeds Brudenell Social Club. The working-man’s club cum live music venue hosts back-room bingo most nights of the week, and despite coming straight out of Phoenix Nights, brings an electric atmosphere loved by the town’s up-and-coming bands: “The place has got real soul” adds Tom.
Since leaving the comfort of Leeds, the boys have toured the British Isles and beyond, adding France, Sweden, and Norway to the burgeoning list. Although never landing anywhere ‘exotic’, they have played the highest pub in Britain, the Tanhill in North Yorkshire, where the resident farmyard fowl squawk in approval from the bar. “I suppose that’s exotic?” answers Tom. But the group are not on the road for comfy beds and free hotel shampoo: “If the gig goes well, you’re willing to put up with anything” says Hayden, “If the gig goes well and the dressing room stinks of dog shit, then you don’t mind”. From toilets to kitchen sinks, the boys won’t whinge, but only so long as they remain hydrated: “For any promoter reading, it’s integral that a band has water and lots of it!” Bert pleads.
They’ve gigged on the river Mersey, played both sides of Ireland, bizarrely missed out Cardiff – “A major anomaly” – but the obvious landmark is London. Slightly perturbed by its reputation, the Wild Beasts have been pleasantly surprised: “To be honest, 9 times out of 10 London’s really, really good. There’s a thing about Londoners being a bit stand-offish, but we’ve always found audiences here to be really appreciative and open-minded”.
Still very much supporting artists – recently alongside Lightspeed Champion and Young Knives at Koko – the Wild Beasts are slowly building up their own fans, “But at this stage” Benny points out, “We’re just trying to win people over”. Hayden doesn’t want their music to be confined to a single demographic, just because it has been labelled so: “I think that’s one of the major stumbling blocks in the way music is looked at. There’s such a vast difference between listening to music that means something to you, and buying music because it’s the ‘right’ thing to buy. I don’t think we’re consciously trying to break that down, it’s just that coming from somewhere like Kendal, none of it matters.”
Although Hayden writes all the lyrics, creating each song is very much a group activity. Succinctly put by Tom, “It’s often like ‘this is the idea’ and then someone goes ‘I see that, and I’ll raise you this’; ‘I took that on board and then I’ll give you this back, which is like that plus this’, that’s kinda how it works”. It seems to work, and the band are very proud to have found their own sound: “That was how we got the most enjoyment out of it” affirms Hayden, “We were always pretty deflated if we discovered it sounded like something else”. While admitting that influences subconsciously manifest themselves, the group believe being self-taught has given them a space to create original material. However, in today’s world, Hayden admits that their music will “always be tagged back on something 20, 30 years earlier. I don’t know why, but to have relevance it has to have an element of 1960′s, 70′s, 80′s music in it”. I felt guilty for making comparisons to Queen, but it was unavoidable faced with Hayden’s Freddy Mercury-esque moustache (“A stupid attempt at facial hair… nothing better”).
Musical integrity governs the band. Those who seek fame for the sake of fame – Jeremy Kyle look away now – disgust them: “He should look hard in the mirror and ask himself why he does what he does”; they want acclaim not celebrity. The response to their first album released in June on the Domino label, Limbo, Panto, delivers exactly that: “We’re really happy the critics have agreed it’s an album of value and originality” says Hayden, who also takes great pride in the diversity of publications heaping praise, “4/5 stars from the Sun and the Guardian, 8/10 from NME. We’re happily placed between high-brow high-art and an everyman pub rock band, walking the tight-rope and we love it”. However, far from getting carried away, the closer the boys come to success, the less they take it for granted. Despite the new album, Bert does not kid himself, “Lots of people save their judgement until as late as album two or three”.
The album itself “holds an element of development and self-awakening” explains Hayden. “It was written over four years, so a lot of the songs are interdependent”. Recorded in Malmo, Sweden, the experience itself was extremely gruelling: locked away in a claustrophobic, pressure-cooker environment, it took a second studio session before the guys could successfully hammer-out the album.
With Limbo, Panto under their belt, the band have returned to the festival circuit another rung higher up the respectability ladder. Playing Latitude for the second year running was special, and even though its no a “hard-core festival with half-dead kids lying by the side” says Hayden, “I like that”. Zoo8 was abandoned at the last minute, and Field Day was nearly scrapped due to a disastrous wrong-turn on the way, “We were 30 seconds away from being pulled – but it meant we went straight on without time to get nervous” explains Hayden, “It was like playing in your dressing gown”.
While still enjoying themselves, the Wild Beasts are determined to ensure a future in music. The second album is well-underway, and they will do whatever it takes – “That’s the only way to keep going” says Tom, “If we had to lick floors clean with our tongues, we’d do it; we all believe in [what we're doing] and are willing to put up with a lot for it”. Working hard is sometimes not enough: “You have to be lucky” admits Hayden, “You just do the best you can, but we’re pretty lucky”. The future is not theirs to see, but one without music is unthinkable – especially if Topman features. However, if they preserve the successful combination of hard work and modesty, these lads will have their mint cake and eat it.
