For more than three decades, Evan Dando has been one of alternative rock’s great wanderers, a songwriter with a golden ear, a troubadour’s heart, and a life lived in beautiful, chaotic technicolour. When The Lemonheads return to the UK this September and October for a sprawling run of dates, they’ll be bringing a version of Evan that feels newly sharpened, newly grounded, and newly joyful.

In a recent interview with Evan in his hotel room in New York City, jet lagged but happy to be in the ‘Big Apple’, Evan speaks with disarming honesty about the reset that pulled him back from the brink. “I went in for three months and just didn’t do drugs and looked within” he says. “It was really good for me”.

He talks about the chaos that preceded it, the speed, the exhaustion, the embarrassing moments that finally made him stop and look at himself. But the breakthrough wasn’t just sobriety. It was rediscovering the part of him that loves playing, loves performing, loves the connection with his fans.

Now, he’s healthier, happier, and surrounded by family. “I have four stepdaughters, and they’re here with me in New York. It feels good.”

“I’m ready to play music again and I’m unencumbered” he says. “I feel great”

It’s a simple sentence, but after the last few years, it carries weight.

Evan spoke more about recording again, this time a Townes Van Zandt tribute album called Townsville. “It came out incredible” he says. “We picked the songs really well. It’s a crazy thing to try, but we actually pulled it off”

There’s a tenderness in the way he talks about recording Tecumseh Valley (a track on ‘Townsville’) with Beatrice, one of his stepdaughters: “We did a live take. We got it on the 27th time” He laughs at the absurdity, but the pride is unmistakable.

There’s a spark in him when he talks about guitars, studios, and the musicians orbiting his world. The ramble is part of the charm, but beneath it is a musician who feels creatively alive again.

Ask Evan why touring the UK feels special and he goes on a typically winding detour through Germany, football, Muddy Waters, and the Stones, but the heart of it is simple:

“England… you guys love music. You love American music. You had to teach us about our own shit”

It’s affectionate, chaotic, and very Evan.

And the appetite is clearly there: extra dates added, tickets selling fast, fans eager to reconnect with the songs that shaped their lives.

We chatted about places that are not classed as the ‘beaten track’ when touring in the UK, Torquay, Stroud, Margate, I asked if there were any other places in the UK That he was excited about playing?

“Liverpool. We don't always play Liverpool. It goes on and off the circuit, you know, there were bands that i loved who are from Liverpool, The Coral and The La’s, they were amazing back in the 90’s” - I stepped in and politely mentioned that The La’s broke up in 1992 and John Power went on to form CAST who saw immense success as part of the UK’s Britpop scene, Evan looked shocked but was pleased when I said that CAST were still headlining festivals all over the country every year!

Willy Mason joins the tour for most of the run, and Evan lights up when he talks about him.

“I brought him on his first tour when he was 15 or 16… Willy’s amazing. His songs just go into timeless-ville.”

Their chemistry is long‑standing, easy, and deeply musical. Expect something special when they share a stage.

Evan’s setlists are fluid, instinctive, and built around what feels right on the night, you rarely see a paper version taped to the floor by his feet at a show. I quizzed Evan on staples that make up the percentage of a show.

“We definitely put The Great Big No in there, and It’s a Shame About Ray. I don’t care about playing old songs, I don’t mind. It’s different every night anyway.”

He still loves the solo acoustic section, especially Ride With Me. “It’s rare to be able to do that. It’s one of my favourite parts of the gig”

But he’s also thinking about pacing, about the audience’s experience, “You’ve got to remember the audience’s perspective… songs have to end on exactly the right beat”

It’s a surprisingly technical insight from someone known for looseness, but it shows how much he cares about the show being good.

Evan’s stories spill out in vivid fragments, living in Ramerston Park to decompress from years of touring, moving to Brazil, renovating a James Bond‑style house on a steep hillside, hanging out with Ice Cube in a studio where Billie Holiday once recorded, and being recognised by a fan he once asked for directions.

It’s all part of the tapestry: the chaos, the humour, the surreal moments, the music.

I asked Evan why people should buy tickets to see The Lemonheads on their UK tour, and he replied with the most grounded, and sincere comment:

“I’m going to take care of myself on this tour so I can perform — so I don’t lose my instrument or my voice. I’m going to sleep a lot and be ready for the show. The show’s the thing”

After everything he’s been through, it feels like a promise.

The full list of The Lemonheads UK tour dates is now as follows: 

20 Sept – Stroud, Subscription Rooms

22 Sept – Brighton, Chalk

23 Sept – Southampton, 1865

24 Sept – Oxford, O2 Academy

25 Sept – Liverpool, O2 Academy 

27 Sept – Torquay, Arena Torquay

28 Sept – Margate, Dreamland

30 Sept – Holmfirth, Picturedrome

01 Oct – Cambridge, Junction  

02 Oct – London, Troxy

03 Oct – Northampton, Roadmenders

05 Oct – Newcastle, Digital

06 Oct – Glasgow, SWG3

07 Oct – Manchester, Albert Hall

09 Oct – Bristol, Electric

10 Oct – Birmingham, O2 Institute

11 Oct – Nottingham, Rock City

Tickets for all dates are on sale now, available from: www.thelemonheads.net.

Evan Dando is in a rare place, reflective but energised, grounded but still gloriously unpredictable. This tour is a reconnection, a renewal, and a celebration of one of alternative rock’s most enduring voices.

If you’ve ever loved The Lemonheads, or if you’ve ever loved a song that made your life feel briefly, beautifully cinematic, this is the moment to show up.

Steve Muscutt chatted to Evan Dando on August 4th 2026.

There’s something quietly magical about a festival that knows exactly what it is, and refuses to become anything else. As the UK festival season edges toward its final hurrah, Mucky Weekender returns to Vicarage Farm, Winchester, from 10–12 September, once again proving that intimacy, community and a bit of glorious chaos can outshine any mega‑weekend with a million‑pound production budget.

Small but mighty isn’t a slogan, more like the festival’s DNA. And judging by the near sell‑out, people feel it.

Mucky Weekender has always been a place where the barriers, literal and metaphorical, are stripped away. You don’t just watch artists from a distance; you bump into them at the bar, dance beside them, and share muddy laughs in the fields. It’s a festival that feels like a reunion of people who haven’t met yet.

At the centre of it all is Barry Ashworth, Dub Pistols frontman, festival host, and human energy drink. Barry doesn’t just curate the weekend, he lives it. Fancy dress? He’s in. Introducing artists? He’s there. Chatting, hugging, selfie‑taking, hyping every stage? Absolutely. His presence is the glue that binds the festival’s spirit, and it’s no surprise that his enthusiasm has become part of the festival’s mythology.

This year’s theme, Circus of Freaks, feels tailor‑made for Mucky Weekender’s playful, anarchic soul. Expect costumes, colour, and a whole lot of joyful weirdness.

The 2026 bill is a proper feast, pulling together legends, cult favourites, and rising names across electronic, dub, hip-hop, rave, and alternative culture. Highlights include:

• Goldie Live — a titan of drum & bass bringing raw, emotional power

• David Rodigan — reggae royalty with stories and selections for days

• Dub Pistols All-Stars — the hosts bringing their full extended family

• Gentleman’s Dub Club — guaranteed sunshine in sonic form

• Roni Size — Bristol’s finest, still unstoppable

• Dutty Moonshine Big Band — brass, bass and bedlam

• The Sabres of Paradise — a rare treat for electronic heads

• Goldie Lookin’ Chain — chaos, comedy, cult status

• Pop Will Eat Itself — alt-rock icons with bite

• Children of Zeus — soulful, modern, essential

• Norman Jay, Darren Emerson, Don Letts, Greg Wilson, Utah Saints, Mr Scruff — selectors who shaped entire scenes

• The Cuban Brothers, Woody Cook — party-starters of the highest order

It’s a line-up that reads like a love letter to UK alternative culture, past, present and future.

Mucky Weekender’s charm lies not just in who’s playing, but where you find yourself dancing. The festival’s collection of micro‑venues and immersive spaces gives it a treasure‑hunt feel:

• Ashworth’s Madhouse — the upgraded main stage, beating heart of the farm

• Johny’s Rockstar Bar — a hub for late-night mischief

• UFO – The SS Seanie — a woodland hideaway with proper escapism

• Crazy Diamond Club — a beloved favourite returning with sparkle

• Fire Garden — brand new, promising warmth, wonder and maybe a little madness

• The Riot Truck — back after last year’s triumphant debut, bringing mobile mayhem

Add walkabout performers, immersive installations, and the festival’s trademark surprises, and you’ve got a weekend that feels handcrafted rather than manufactured.

Mucky Weekender’s refusal to scale up is exactly why it sells out. People trust it. They know they’ll be welcomed, not swallowed. They know they’ll discover something new, dance somewhere unexpected, and leave with stories they’ll tell for years.

With tickets already flying, this year looks set to be another full house — and another reminder that independent festivals are the beating heart of UK music culture.

10–12 September | Vicarage Farm, Winchester Tickets & info: www.mucky-weekender.co.uk

Los Angeles quartet Exploding Flowers are heading back to the UK this August, carrying their jangling, harmony‑rich guitar‑pop across a run of dates that feel tailor‑made for fans of Big Star, The Soft Boys, and the Paisley Underground’s kaleidoscopic shimmer. It’s a tour that lands just ahead of their fourth album — due later this year via Meritorio Records — and arrives with the promise of new material, including the forthcoming single Spinning Carousel.

For a band who’ve quietly carved out their own corner of the indie‑pop universe, these shows feel like a chance to see Exploding Flowers in the environments where their music thrives: intimate rooms, DIY spaces, and venues with character baked into the walls.

Led by Sharif Dumani — whose CV includes work with Alice Bag, Cody Chesnutt and Sex Stains — Exploding Flowers operate in that sweet spot where melody, melancholy and sunshine all coexist. Their sound is a swirl of chiming guitars, organ flourishes, vibraphone sparkle and a rhythm section that keeps everything buoyant without ever rushing the mood.

The current lineup — Dumani, Josh Mancell, Happy Tsugawa‑Banta, and Mark Sogomian — has spent three albums and an EP refining a style that nods to Flying Nun’s 80s catalogue as much as it does to West Coast jangle. It’s familiar territory, but they occupy it with a looseness and charm that feels entirely their own.

This run is a reunion of friends, influences and long‑time collaborators. Across the tour, Exploding Flowers will be joined by:

• Rachel Love (Dolly Mixture, Railcard)

• Jowe Head (Swell Maps, Television Personalities)

• Local favourites including Static Caravan, The Xoxos, The Gentle Spring, The Seven Inches, and more

It’s a bill that reads like a love letter to the DIY pop lineage the band sit within — a cross‑generational mix of cult heroes, underground lifers and new names keeping the flame alive.

The tour culminates at Glas-Goes Pop, where Exploding Flowers share the stage with The Clientele, The Bats, and Feel (members of Felt). It’s a fitting finale: a festival built around the very aesthetic the band have spent years nurturing.

The new single “Spinning Carousel” lands on 7th August, offering the first glimpse of their upcoming fourth album. Mastering comes courtesy of Mark Gardener (Ride) — a detail that hints at the record’s sonic ambitions without giving too much away. If the band’s previous releases are anything to go by, expect something melodic, textured, and quietly adventurous.

UK Live Dates

7 Aug – Brighton, The Prince Albert with Rachel Love and Telecom

8 Aug – London, Waiting Room with Rachel Love, Jowe Head and Infernal Trinity

10 Aug – Nottingham, JT Soar with The Leaking Machine and Terza Rima

11 Aug – Sheffield, Delicious Clam with Sumos and The Xoxos

12 Aug – Leeds, Lending Room with The Gentle Spring, Static Caravan and The Seven Inches

13 Aug – Newcastle, Cluny 2 with Dancer and Knitting Circle

14 Aug – Glasgow, Glas-Goes Pop

Tickets available here

Exploding Flowers are one of those bands who reward close listening — the kind of group whose songs feel deceptively simple until you notice the details: the vibraphone shimmer, the organ hum, the way the guitars interlock rather than compete. Seeing them in small rooms across the UK is the perfect way to catch those subtleties.

For more information:

Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram

PRESIDENT have spent the last year building a cult-like following through anonymity, atmosphere, and a refusal to play by genre rules. Now, the UK-based collective finally step into the light with “dark heaven”, the latest glimpse into their debut album Blood Of Your Empire, arriving 4th September via Atlantic Records.

It’s the most revealing chapter yet from a band who’ve made mystery their calling card.

“dark heaven” is PRESIDENT at their most exposed — a track that spirals between distortion, 808 pulse, and glitchy, detuned riffs while interrogating the contradictions of belief. The band describe it as “a reflection on the contradictions of faith… searching for something real beneath the noise, and asking what remains when certainty begins to crumble.”

Across the track, seasick textures dissolve into a buoyant beat, before the pre‑chorus delivers its sermon: “Gather ‘round children, sing Hallelujah.” Then comes the confession — raw, unguarded, and unmistakably PRESIDENT: “I used to stare at the cross and cry out for God, but I’m not the person I was.”

The accompanying visualizer captures fans hearing the song for the first time inside a church, their reactions flickering between awe, shock, and recognition. It’s a bold move, but PRESIDENT have never been shy about pushing their audience into uncomfortable, transcendent spaces.

Frontman commentary frames the album as a confrontation with existential dread — a reckoning with belief, mortality, and the duality of religion’s beauty and brutality.

“This album lives in the tension between those two truths… Writing it became a way for me to confront the fear, confusion, and questions I’ve carried for years.”

The artwork — Eugène Delacroix’s The Battle of Poitiers, hanging in the Louvre — reinforces the album’s themes of conflict, devotion, and the cost of conviction.

Tracklist

• Angel Wings

• DOOM LOOP

• dark heaven

• Pink Noise

• Mercy

• Sleepwalker

• Dionysus

• This Will Divide Us

• Hate Figure (feat. Ando San)

• White Devil

Fresh from supporting Bad Omens across the US, PRESIDENT now move into full headline mode. Their entire 2026 world tour — US, UK, and Europe — is sold out, a staggering achievement for a band who launched only last year under a veil of minimalism and anonymity.

Chicago, Brooklyn, Toronto, Denver, Seattle, LA, Phoenix, Dallas — PRESIDENT are hitting major rooms across the continent, from The Wiltern to Brooklyn Paramount.

Stockholm, Oslo, Copenhagen, Berlin, Paris, Brussels — before returning home for a run of UK academy dates, including O2 Academy Brixton and O2 Victoria Warehouse.

For a band who’ve spent their early career cultivating intrigue, this tour marks their arrival as a genuine force.

“dark heaven” feels like PRESIDENT’s mission statement — a collision of faith, fear, distortion, and catharsis that sets the tone for Blood Of Your Empire. If the album delivers on the promise of this single, PRESIDENT won’t just be one of 2026’s most talked‑about heavy acts; they’ll be one of its most important.

If you want, I can also craft a shorter news-style version, a social teaser, or a podcast intro script for Sonic Nomads.

Stockton-on-Tees is gearing up for another year of organised chaos, the good kind, as The Gathering Sounds drops a heavyweight second wave of artists for its 2026 edition. If last year felt like a festival levelling up, this year feels like the moment it plants a flag in the ground and says: this is where the future starts.

And at the centre of that surge is Tom A. Smith, returning to headline the Georgian Theatre in what feels less like a booking and more like a homecoming. Tom’s rise has been one of those rare modern stories that still feels mythic: a teenager from Sunderland suddenly sharing stages with Elton John, Catfish and the Bottlemen, Courteeners and Miles Kane; becoming a favourite of Radio 1, 6 Music and Radio X; and now releasing a Fiction Records EP that’s pushed him into another gear entirely.

His headline slot at The Gathering Sounds isn’t just another date on a stacked calendar — it’s a nod to the people who backed him early. As he puts it, organiser Jimmy Beck “was one of the first people to look out for me,” and you can feel the sincerity in his call to pack out the Georgian Theatre. It’s the kind of grassroots loyalty this festival thrives on. If Tom is the emotional anchor of this announcement, the rest of the lineup is pure momentum. The Gathering Sounds has always had a knack for booking artists just before they explode, The K’s, Lottery Winners, Sports Team, Sophie and the Giants, The Royston Club, and 2026 looks set to continue that tradition.

The new additions read like a who’s-who of the UK’s next wave:

• Humour — Glasgow’s spoken‑word‑meets‑post‑punk firestorm, known for shows that feel like they might collapse the room.

• Bloodworm — Leeds’ emotionally charged alt‑rock outfit, building a reputation for cathartic, uncompromising live sets.

• Fletchr Fletchr — now a four‑piece, now unstoppable; soaring indie melodies, big choruses, and a debut EP that’s already turning heads.

• Pyncher — Manchester’s genre‑blurring garage‑rock/post‑punk hybrid, chaotic in all the right ways.

• Pack of Animals — another name bubbling up fast from the grassroots circuit.

• The Kowloons — sharp, melodic, and quietly becoming one of the North East’s most exciting new prospects.

• Andrew Johnson & The Others

• Central Arcade

• Honeylight

• Park View

• Strop

• Weathership

It’s a list that feels deliberately curated rather than algorithmically assembled — artists with personality, edge, and something to prove.

The Gathering Sounds has always been built on the thrill of discovery. You come for one band you already love, and you leave with five new obsessions. That ethos runs through the entire 2026 lineup, including the first wave: overpass, Basht., TTSSFU, Good Health Good Wealth, M60, Shelf Lives, Charlie Floyd, Swindled and Daisy Brown.

Jordan Kean sums it up perfectly: Tom A. Smith has been part of the festival’s story from the early days, and surrounding him with artists “we genuinely believe people are going to be talking about over the next few years” is exactly what makes this festival tick.

On Saturday 26 September, Stockton transforms again — KU, ARC, The Georgian Theatre, The Link, The Social Room, The Green and NAME all turning into a walkable constellation of new music. It’s the kind of setup that feels increasingly rare: intimate rooms, short walks, and the sense that you’re witnessing something before the rest of the country catches up. And with more artists still to be announced, 2026 is shaping up to be one of the festival’s strongest years yet.

Tickets & info: thegatheringsounds.co.uk

“Indie” is one of the most misused words in modern music. Scroll through any streaming platform, festival lineup, or TikTok playlist and you’ll see it slapped onto almost anything with a guitar, a reverb pedal, or a vaguely alternative aesthetic. But the truth, the historical truth, is that indie was never a genre. It was a status, a philosophy, a way of operating outside the machinery of the major label system.

To understand what indie is, we have to go back to what indie was.

Indie = Independent. Literally.

In the late 1970s and early 1980s, “indie” simply meant music released on an independent label, labels that weren’t part of the major corporate structures (EMI, Sony, Warner, Universal). These were small operations, often run out of bedrooms, record shops, or community spaces. They were powered by passion over budgets.

They championed bands who didn’t fit the mainstream mould, who didn’t want to compromise, or who simply had no access to the industry’s gatekeepers.

Here’s some of the most influential early independent labels

• Rough Trade — London-based, fiercely DIY, home to The Smiths, The Raincoats, and countless post‑punk innovators.

• Factory Records — Manchester’s art‑driven powerhouse behind Joy Division, New Order, and the Haçienda.

• Creation Records — Alan McGee’s chaotic, visionary label that launched My Bloody Valentine, Ride, and later Oasis.

• 4AD — Ethereal, boundary‑pushing, home to Cocteau Twins, Pixies, and Dead Can Dance.

• Sub Pop — Seattle’s grunge incubator, releasing Nirvana’s early work and shaping alternative rock globally.

Because indie wasn’t a genre, the music released on independent labels spanned wildly different styles:

• The Smiths — jangly guitar pop with biting social commentary.

• Joy Division — bleak, atmospheric post‑punk.

• The Jesus and Mary Chain — noise‑pop drenched in feedback.

• Cocteau Twins — dreamlike, genre‑defying soundscapes.

• The Pastels — shambling, lo‑fi, defiantly unpolished.

• Hüsker Dü — hardcore punk evolving into melodic alt‑rock.

• The Wedding Present — frantic, emotional guitar music with punk roots.

By the mid‑1990s and early 2000s, the term “indie” drifted away from its original meaning. Several things happened:

• Major labels began signing “indie‑sounding” bands, blurring the lines between independent and mainstream.

• Music journalism started using “indie” as shorthand for guitar‑based alternative music.

• Streaming platforms and algorithms needed categories, and “indie” became a catch‑all bucket.

• Fans adopted the term culturally, not historically — “indie” became an aesthetic, a vibe, a lifestyle.

The result? Today, “indie” is used to describe everything from shoegaze to dream pop, post‑punk revival, bedroom pop, folk‑rock, and even some electronic acts.

It’s convenient. It’s recognisable. But it’s not accurate.

If we’re being purist, and many of us are, indie still means:

• Independent of major labels

• Self‑directed artistic control

• DIY ethos

• Community‑driven growth

But culturally, “indie” has become a genre label whether we like it or not. It’s too embedded, too easy, too familiar. And yes, most guitar‑based alternative music fits the mould well enough that people will keep using it.

Because words shape how we understand music. Because history gets flattened when labels lose their meaning. Because the independent movement was, and still is, vital to the evolution of alternative culture. Because indie was built by people who refused to wait for permission.

And because if we don’t talk about what indie really is, we risk erasing the very spirit that made it powerful.

This is where I want YOU to jump in.

Do you think “indie” should be treated as a genre? Does the modern usage dilute its meaning? Does it matter? Or has language simply evolved beyond its origins?

Drop your thoughts, especially if you were there in the early days, or if you discovered indie through the 2000s wave, or if you’re part of the new generation reshaping what independence looks like.

Here’s a playlist with a bunch of true indie classics for you to enjoy!

Eli Paperboy Reed has never been one to chase trends — he’s spent the past two decades proving that soul music doesn’t need reinventing so much as it needs believing in. Now, with a brand‑new album produced by the legendary Swamp Dogg and a UK tour set for March 2027, Reed is stepping into the next chapter of a career built on grit, gospel fire, and a deep love for the roots of American music.

Reed’s rise began with Roll With You back in 2008 — a record that introduced him as a raw, full‑throated soul singer with a scholar’s understanding of the genre’s lineage. Major‑label releases followed (Come and Get It! in 2010 and Nights Like This in 2014), pushing his sound into new spaces while keeping that unmistakable Paperboy urgency intact. Extensive touring, festival slots, and sync placements helped cement his reputation as one of the most compelling voices in the modern soul revival.

But what’s kept Reed relevant isn’t nostalgia — it’s commitment. Over the past decade he’s broadened his palette without losing sight of the tradition he champions. Albums like My Way Home (2016) and 99 Cent Dreams (2019) showcased a songwriter comfortable weaving gospel, blues, and R&B into something both reverent and restless. His 2022 tribute to Merle Haggard, Down Every Road, proved he could reinterpret country songwriting with the same emotional fluency he brings to soul.

Reed’s work outside his own discography has been just as influential. Through Harlem’s Gospel for Teens programme, he helped shape The Harlem Gospel Travelers — a group whose rise has been one of the most exciting developments in contemporary gospel. Reed’s role as mentor and producer has quietly positioned him as a bridge between generations, passing down the craft and discipline that define the music he loves.

The upcoming album Getting There marks Reed’s first collaboration with Swamp Dogg — a partnership that feels both surprising and inevitable. Swamp Dogg’s eccentric, genre‑bending production style meets Reed’s classicist soul approach in a way that promises something fresh without losing the warmth and grit fans expect. If early whispers are anything to go by, this record could be one of Reed’s most adventurous yet.

AGMP Concerts will bring Reed back to UK stages next March, with a run of shows that’s likely to draw long‑time fans, soul heads, and anyone who appreciates a singer who leaves everything on the stage. Expect a set that spans his catalogue — from early revivalist cuts to the new Swamp Dogg‑produced material — delivered with the same conviction that’s made him a favourite on both sides of the Atlantic.

Eli Paperboy Reed’s March 2027 UK Tour will visit the following locations:

Date: Tuesday 9th March 2027

Venue Address: Brudenell Social Club, 33 Queen's Rd, Burley, Leeds LS6 1NY

Ticket Link  

Date: Wednesday 10th March 2027

Venue Address: Metronome, Huntingdon St, Nottingham NG1 1AP

Ticket Link

Date: Thursday 11th March 2027

Venue Address: The Fleece, 12 St Thomas St, Redcliffe, Bristol BS1 6JJ

Ticket Link

Date: Friday 12th March 2027

Venue Address: 229, 229 Great Portland St, London W1W 5PN

Ticket Link

Links to Socials and Website:

Website

Insta

Facebook

YouTube

Nearly twenty years in, Eli Paperboy Reed stands as one of contemporary soul’s most enduring voices. Not because he’s chasing reinvention, but because he’s committed to the fundamentals: great songs, great stories, and vocals that feel lived‑in and unshakeably human. Getting There looks set to underline that legacy, and the 2027 tour will be the first chance for UK audiences to hear where Reed is heading next.

Los Bitchos have never been a band you could pin to one place, one tradition, or one tidy genre box, but their next chapter looks set to push that spirit even further. Fresh off the back of Let The Festivities Begin! and last year’s Talkie Talkie, the London‑based trio return with “Hang Up (Pt 2)”, the first glimpse of an upcoming studio album built around collaboration, vocalists and global musical exchange.

“Hang Up (Pt 2)” feat. Adrian Quesada and Sinkane - listen HERE / watch HERE

The single is a bright, funk‑driven burst of sunshine, created in partnership with Adrian Quesada (Black Pumas, Brownout) and Sinkane, whose groove‑heavy rhythms and soulful harmonies slot seamlessly into Los Bitchos’ technicolour instrumental world. It’s a track that feels like a postcard from everywhere at once, tight guitar lines, cinematic soul flourishes, and a rhythmic pulse that refuses to sit still.

What’s striking is how naturally this collaboration fits into the band’s DNA. Los Bitchos have always thrived on cultural collision: Serra Petale’s Australian‑Turkish heritage, Josefine Jonsson’s Swedish basslines, and Nic Crawshaw’s British rhythmic backbone have long shaped their borderless sound. Now, they’re opening that door wider, inviting guest vocalists from across the globe to join the party.

The forthcoming album (details still under wraps), promises to expand their universe in bold, celebratory ways. It’s positioned not just as a record, but as a statement about shared humanity and the idea that music becomes most alive when traditions meet, mingle and dance. As the band put it themselves: “If we don’t learn from each other, we can’t progress.”

“Hang Up (Pt 2)” embodies that ethos completely. Euphoric production, soulful harmonies, and a sense of curiosity that feels baked into every note. It’s Los Bitchos stepping confidently into a collaborative future without losing the infectious, party‑starting spirit that made them such a joy in the first place.

The video, directed by Kieron Banerji and Callum Baker at Finetuned adds another layer of colour to the release, capturing the track’s sun‑drenched energy with playful, psychedelic flair.

With more news on the album coming soon, “Hang Up (Pt 2)” is a tantalising first step into a new era for Los Bitchos, one defined by connection, creativity and a refusal to stay in one lane.

Los Bitchos live dates:

Aug 30 - Shambala Festival - Northamptonshire, UK

Sep 09 - Great September Festival - Lodz, Poland

Ticket information here

Connect with Los Bitchos

Instagram

Spotify

YouTube

Bandcamp

Ruud Dielen has spent the last decade shaping Glorious Wolf into one of the most quietly ambitious and emotionally resonant projects in modern prog. What began as a one‑man studio experiment has grown into a richly collaborative, ever‑evolving musical world — one driven by instinct, curiosity and a deep awareness of the times we’re living through.

In this Q&A, Ruud opens up about the origins of the Glorious Wolf name, the moment he committed to music full‑time, and the global challenges that inspired his latest album Elements Of Hope. From the impact of world events on young people to the joy of building a studio that finally matches his creative vision, this is a candid, thoughtful conversation with an artist who has never stopped growing.

Who is answering the questions?

Ruud Dielen founder of Glorious Wolf

How did you get to the band name, and what does it mean to you?

According to a Google search, the band name is the 'meaning of Ruud' (my first name) – the name Ruud means "famous wolf" or "glorious wolf". The latter felt right immediately.

When did you realise that you wanted to do music full time?

My zodiac sign is Gemini; one part of me always wanted to be the musician, and the other was an entrepreneur. My mind always said, "You have to provide for your family, so there must be financial security," but my heart has always kept me with my music. After the children left home, I started focusing on music full-time.

How did the idea for your latest release come about?

The idea behind our recent album 'Elements Of Hope' originated from the daily news footage that repeatedly showed the many global struggles, chaos, and challenges that many people, and especially children, are suffering from. The images of children in emergency situations affected me so deeply that I used this as the theme (how a growing child develops in these challenging times) for the album.

Can you tell us about the themes and influences that run through out?

The challenges that children, teenagers, and young adults face, as climate change, Artificial Intelligence, the many stimuli from social media, and wars in many parts of the world. They are the ones who will soon lead the world; how will they deal with the many challenges we face globally?

Who produced the release, and what were they like to work with (If you produced it yourself, then what do you love the most about working that way?)

Elements Of Hope was produced by myself and sound engineer Sjef Eikemans, with occasional help from sound engineer and studio owner Toon de Quant. I have a home studio, and the nice thing is that I can go there to work whenever I feel like it or am inspired. It is a relaxed atmosphere, and that has an effect on the music.

How would you say that the sound of the band has grown/changed over the last couple of years?

Glorious Wolf started in 2015 as a one-man studio project, and the first (digital) album 'Aquarius' was recorded entirely instrumentally and with limited resources. For the second album, 'Zodiac', I invited several guest musicians and singers. This album therefore features several vocal tracks as well as the instrumental parts, where my strength still lies.

I approached the next album, 'Mysterious Traveler', more professionally; whereas the drums on the predecessors were generated by Superiordrummer, on this successor all the drums were played by Kike Paglia (an Argentinian), a fantastic drummer who greatly benefits the music. This album also features vocal tracks again, sung by Frank van der Borg and Celia van Onna. I played all the other instruments myself.

With our latest album, 'Elements Of Hope', which was recently released on June 7th, we continued this trend, building a new studio with expanded recording equipment, allowing us to take the level to an even higher plane. Thanks to the collaboration with sound engineer Sjef Eikemans, we have been able to achieve a beautiful final result that we are very proud of. Everything fits together perfectly now, and we are very proud of that.

The latest album also features more guest musicians again: Kike on drums, Frank on lead vocals, Jyoti Verhoeff on lead vocals, Ties van Diessen on backing vocals, Tim Ros on bass guitar on 5 of the nine tracks, Harry Knapen on Hammond organ and Yamaha CP70 piano, Reg Parham on saxophone, and Thomas Zunk on Theremin and Mellotron. I personally wrote, recorded, and produced all the songs, and played all the guitars, (fretless) bass guitar on 4 songs, synthesizers, and Mellotron. So yes, we have definitely grown over the years.

What do you want your latest release to do for the representation of the band?

The first reviews for our album 'Elements Of Hope' are already very promising, and we are getting a lot of airplay on various prog-rock-oriented radio stations; let's hope this increases Glorious Wolf's popularity. We are signed to the label OOB Records, which is represented by The Band Wagon in the USA, so let's hope we get heard by the general public.

What else can we expect to see from the band in 2026?

First, I need to take a break and spend time with my family and friends. I also have some side projects I'm working on and a band I perform with regularly. Hopefully, inspiration for new Glorious Wolf work will return soon.

A huge thank you to Ruud Dielen for taking the time to share his story, his process and the heart behind Glorious Wolf. It’s conversations like this that remind us why we love running these Q&A features — honest insight, creative passion and a glimpse into the journey behind the music. We’ll be watching closely to see where Glorious Wolf heads next.

Socials

OOB Records

Bandcamp

Spotify

YouTube

https://www.youtube.com/@gloriouswolf2

The Bandwagon USA

Dead Defined has always been a project built from lived experience — the kind that leaves marks, reshapes you, and ultimately pushes you toward something stronger. In conversation with vocalist and songwriter Craig Ewan, it’s clear that the band’s latest chapter isn’t just about refining a sound, but about sharpening a message. With One Life, Craig leans fully into the emotional core of Dead Defined: hope, resilience, and the belief that the hardest moments don’t have to define who we become. What follows is a candid look at the journey behind the music, the intention driving the new release, and the vision shaping what comes next.

Who is answering the questions?

Craig Ewan – vocalist, songwriter, and founder of Dead Defined.

How did you get to the band name, and what does it mean to you?

The name Dead Defined came from the idea that difficult experiences, loss, and personal struggles don’t have to define who you are. We all carry things from our past, but they don’t have to dictate our future. That message has become the foundation of everything I write, especially the newer material.

When did you realise that you wanted to do music full time?

Music has always been a huge part of my life, but I don’t think there was one defining moment. As more people connected with the songs and the audience kept growing around the world, I realized this wasn’t just a hobby anymore. My goal has always been to build something meaningful that reaches people who need to hear it.

How did the idea for your latest release come about?

One Life was written after seeing how many people, especially men, struggle silently with their mental health. Too many people feel like they have to carry everything on their own. I wanted to write a song that reminded people they’re not alone and that there is always hope, even during the darkest moments. If it gets one person talking or asking for help, then it’s done exactly what I hoped it would.

Can you tell us about the themes and influences that run throughout?

The biggest themes are hope, resilience, and choosing to keep moving forward. Lyrically it’s one of the most personal songs I’ve written. Musically, bands like Alter Bridge, Breaking Benjamin, and Shinedown have always inspired me with their ability to combine heavy guitars with emotional melodies. I wanted One Life to have that same balance of power and honesty.

Who produced the release, and what were they like to work with?

The song was produced by Mike Dmitrovic at Voodoo Records Canada. Mike has been a huge part of shaping the Dead Defined sound. He understands the emotion behind every song and always knows how to bring out the best performance without losing what made the original idea special. Working together has become a very natural process built on trust and a shared vision.

How would you say that the sound of the band has grown or changed over the last couple of years?

The songwriting has definitely become more mature and intentional. Earlier releases focused more on creating big rock songs, while the newer material puts just as much emphasis on telling a story and creating an emotional connection. I still love heavy guitars and big choruses, but now every song has a deeper purpose behind it.

What do you want your latest release to do for the representation of the band?

I hope One Life shows exactly what Dead Defined stands for. I want people to know this isn’t just another rock project, it’s music with a message. If listeners walk away feeling understood or inspired to keep going, then that’s the kind of band I want Dead Defined to be known as.

What else can we expect to see from the band in 2026?

The focus is on continuing to release new music, reaching new listeners around the world, and building on the momentum Dead Defined has gained over the last few years. There are more songs already in the works, and I’m looking forward to sharing them as they become ready.

As Dead Defined moves through 2026, Craig’s focus remains steady: keep creating, keep connecting, and keep offering listeners a place to feel seen. One Life is more than a single — it’s a statement of purpose, a reminder that even the heaviest stories can lead somewhere brighter. If this interview is any indication, the band’s future is set to be louder, more intentional, and deeply rooted in the kind of honesty that turns rock songs into lifelines. Stay tuned — there’s more on the way.

Official Links:

Instagram

Website / Smart Link

YouTube

Some songs arrive quietly, almost by accident, and then end up defining a moment for a band. For Santa Barbara indie outfit exPorter, “Letting Go” has become exactly that — a track that started life as a loose collaboration with friends, evolved into a staple of their live set, and unexpectedly found an audience far beyond their hometown.

The song first emerged when exPorter’s Kylen and Alec began trading ideas with fellow Santa Barbara band Let Flo Go. What began as a bit of creative back‑and‑forth quickly turned into something that felt too good to leave on the shelf. exPorter started slipping “Letting Go” into their shows, shaping it into a version that carried their own melodic stamp — sharper edges, bigger lift, more of that jangly, sun‑bleached energy they’ve made their signature.

By the time they were recording their recent EP New Rubber Girlfriend, the band knew the track deserved a proper full‑band treatment. The studio version captures what fans had already felt in the room: a song that balances emotional clarity with the kind of indie‑rock immediacy that makes crowds lean in. It’s bright, bittersweet, and quietly cathartic — the kind of tune that feels like it belongs on a late‑night drive or a festival field at golden hour.

And then something unexpected happened. “Letting Go” didn’t just perform well — it took off, picking up streaming momentum, earning radio play, and finding an unlikely pocket of devoted listeners in South America, where it’s become one of exPorter’s most‑shared tracks. It’s the sort of left‑field success that reminds you how unpredictable and strangely beautiful music discovery can be.

For exPorter, the song marks a moment of connection: between two bands, between their local scene and a global audience, and between the raw beginnings of an idea and the fully realised version fans now know. It’s a reminder that sometimes the tracks that weren’t planned as singles end up becoming the ones people hold closest.

With New Rubber Girlfriend expanding their sound and “Letting Go” opening new doors, exPorter feel like a band stepping into a bigger chapter — one built on collaboration, instinct, and the joy of watching a song find its people.

Keep up to date with the band via their FACEBOOK page

False Heads have never been a band to do things by halves. Whether it’s Jake Elliott locking in on bass even after going “arse over head” onstage, Charlie Gregory powering through drum takes with machine‑like precision, or Luke Griffiths pouring every ounce of energy into the songs he writes, the trio have carved out a reputation as one of the UK’s most fiercely committed alternative acts. With a decade of graft behind them, a charting second album, and a third record that Luke describes as their “best written and produced” yet, the band stand on the cusp of a new chapter — bigger, heavier, and more emotionally charged than anything they’ve done before. We sat down with Luke to talk origins, influences, chaos, growth, and the bleak beauty at the heart of Oldest Part of Hell.

For readers discovering you for the first time, can you introduce the full lineup — and tell us what each of you brings to the False Heads identity, both on stage and in the studio?

Jake Elliott (bass) is always locked in onstage and recovers instantly (even after falling arse over head on stage once) from anything thrown his way, in the studio Jake is very efficient at coming up with ideas to finish a part of a song off (piano or guitar parts) and is great at cutting out anything that's not necessary. 

Charlie Gregory (drums and backing vocals) probably one of best drummers I've seen live, so extremely lucky to have him. Brings immense energy and is as tight as fuck. In the studio he's just an absolute machine - not sure I’ve ever seen him need more than three takes for a track. 

Luke Griffiths (vocals guitar) I like to think I leave everything on stage and give as much energy on stage as it took for me to bring the songs to life when writing it. In the studio, I just think I can roll with the punches if needs be and just smash it out without too much faff. 

You’ve been carving out your place in the UK alternative scene for a while now — how long have you each been making music, and what were those early beginnings like? Was there a moment where you realised this band was going to be your life’s work?

I've been making music in some way for 15 years, since I was a kid. It's been serious for about a decade. Early beginnings were fun and frustrating. I wasn't exactly a naturally gifted guitarist or singer, but I felt like I had a natural knack for writing tunes and lyrics, so that came with challenges, but at the same time, it was quite fun working those things out.

Early gigs, playing to nobody are also hard to take, but will tell you if you’re cut out for it. In terms of one moment where I knew I'm not actually too sure…. I just knew I loved writing songs more than anything I'd ever done before and wanted to do it forever.

False Heads have played with The Libertines, Josh Homme, Band of Skulls, David Byrne and Frank Turner — that’s a wildly eclectic list. Which artists or scenes have genuinely shaped the DNA of your sound, and how do those influences show up in the music you’re making today?

Well I was into hip hop and grime first which I think at times seeps through especially in me keeping my natural accent.

After that I'd say the first 5 artists I was properly obsessed with were Nirvana, Radiohead, Bob Dylan, Pixies and Elliott Smith. I think they still shine through but after a period of time you do forge your own sound. I'd like to think we've done that. 

Your second album Sick Moon, produced by Frank Turner, landed you in the UK Official Album Charts and hit number 2 on the Independent Album Breakers Chart. What did Frank bring to the recording process, and how did his perspective shape the final sound of the record?

He was still pretty new to producing, and we recorded it at his house, so we threw loads of ideas at the songs. He’s a songwriter first and foremost, and I think that comes through more on that record.

The whole process was pretty fucking chaotic. Jake broke his arm, then we got Covid halfway through and had to start again.

Some of the songs feel a bit undercooked to me like “Doll’s Eye..” because Covid meant we couldn’t tour our first record at all, we ended up writing loads but couldn’t jam together as much. We probably didn’t get to put the songs through the refining process we normally would. That's fine though, you can't go back and over analyse your own stuff too much. 

You’re a London outfit — how would you describe the current music scene in your corner of the city? Is it thriving, fragmented, competitive, collaborative? What’s exciting you about the artists coming through right now?

I mean to be perfectly honest, the last two years we haven’t done much gigging, we've been writing and recording our third album so haven’t got our finger on the pulse too much. 

It feels a bit unaccessible to me as time has gone on and it seems very kinda posh. I'm a bit bored of hearing that accent to be perfectly fucking honest!

I don't really take too much notice of ‘scenes’ if I'm honest. They’re often fleeting. I'd just knuckle down, write and record and play gigs where you can if I was a band in London, I think you'll find your people. 

You’ve attracted fans ranging from Simon Le Bon and Iggy Pop to legendary manager Danny Fields. What’s it like knowing your music resonates with people who helped define entire eras of rock culture? Does that change how you think about your own legacy?

Yeah it's amazing. It's always good to be supported by your peers who have done it and have been around so much music and created so much. 

There's not many living people in music I respect more than Danny Fields or Iggy Pop. 

Your track Rabbit Hole has passed 1.5 million streams, and you’re already deep into album three with Grammy‑winning producer Adrian Bushby. What can you tell us about the new material — sonically, emotionally, or thematically? Where is False Heads heading next?

Yes, well we've finished it finally. I think it's a huge step up. Adrian is just a phenomenal producer and the sound is so full and huge. 

We also brought in full string sections in some of the songs by a good friend Steven Bentley Klein so it's definitely got different elements. It’s the best written and produced album we have made so far.

Lyrically, it's similar to the first two but things are obviously getting worse and worse in the world and the lyrics do become bleaker. I was also optioned by a production company to write a TV show about my family which I think is reflected in the album too - mediations on generational trauma, free will and the almost impossibility of escaping what you're born into but how some people do. 

Your new album is titled Oldest Part of Hell — it’s a striking, loaded phrase. What does that title represent for you emotionally or thematically, and at what point in the writing process did it reveal itself as the right name for the record?

Well something I've always done by default is write lines that reflect how I see the world/how the world makes me feel but also how I feel personally and Oldest Part of Hell just seemed to be the perfect line for that. 

The Oldest Part of Hell for me is my life long battle with depression which when I sink into it it's hard to come out of. The world is just also falling further into radicalisation, stupidity and I really am struggling to get away from the idea that the average person is a divvy cunt,  becoming more proud of it and the world that is emerging is sort of encouraging and rewarding that and what I think is coming from that is going to be a sort of global misery and depression we might not be able to shake out of. 

My experience with depression is that it often follows feelings of extreme rage. That's what I see happening in the world. This rage that is building can only last so long. Its cyclical. I don't know what the world will look like in 15 years, but I think its going to be miserable. 

Where did you record Oldest Part of Hell, and what drew you to that particular studio environment? Did the space itself influence the sound or energy of the sessions in any noticeable way?

We recorded it in Essex at Adrian's studio. I'll be totally honest, I don't think it really did. We had really got the songs down, spent a lot of time on them and demoing them, so when we went in, we really just smashed them out.

What made him the right person for record number three, and what did he unlock in your sound that you hadn’t tapped into before?

The fullness and hugeness of the sound, definitely. Everything sounds exactly how I wanted it to. When you're a three-piece, getting that fullness is what you need to fill the space. Adrian did that in spades. He's great at throwing little ideas in to just make things fit together. "Leader for Now" is a great example of that. The last chorus into the outro just wanted seamless, and Adrian added literally one chord, and it worked immediately.

Third albums can go either way — some bands say it’s easier because they’ve found their identity, others say it’s harder because expectations rise. How did the process feel for you this time around? Was Oldest Part of Hell a smoother ride or a tougher climb?

The stuff in the background was tough. Our joker of an ex-manager was trying to rinse us for money. We changed virtually our whole team because it wasn't quite working for us, so it also added to why it took us a bit longer to get this record going. Having said that, once we had the songs and rehearsed them, we were confident that they were strong. Having someone like Adrian, who's won Grammy awards and is so experienced, is a good yardstick to have because if he is on the same wavelength as you when it comes to the quality of the songwriting, you can be confident it's moving in the right direction.

False Heads have always had a reputation for being hands‑on and fiercely involved in shaping your sound. How deep were you in the recording process this time — were you experimenting, co‑producing, obsessing over details, or trying to step back and trust the room?

Yeah, we definitely stepped back and let Adrian do his thing, but because we did an EP with him (which will be part of this album), we knew how he worked and he knew how we did, so we just sort of rolled with it. I normally do most of the obsessing when I'm writing the tunes and the lyrics, so I kind of like to have trust in the producer after that. That's his expertise, and if we respect each other, then we know we both just want the best for the record.

There's always a few bits in the mixing stages that need tweaks or changes but that's pretty normal. We were just well prepared for this record so it was seamless really. 

Are there any tracks on Oldest Part of Hell that you’re particularly excited — or nervous — to unleash live for the first time? What makes those songs feel like they’ll hit differently on stage?

Probably the title track Oldest Part of Hell... definitely need to work out how to make that fucking string section work live  

Come Dine With Me time — if the three of you were hosting the ultimate band dinner party, what would you serve for starter, main and dessert, and who would cause the most chaos in the kitchen?

Oh mate fuck knows. I went vegan this year so guests will have to like it or lump it. All I know is I'm ordering in Tofu-vegan and serving it up. That'll convert everyone. Charlie would be the handiest in the kitchen though. Everything would get sorted double quick.

If you could curate your dream festival lineup — any artists, dead or alive — who’s on the bill, and why do those acts matter to you personally or creatively?

Elliott Smith, Nirvana and the Beatles probably. I'll just go through headliners otherwise I'll be here all day. 

I've seen Pixies and Radiohead otherwise they'd be on there. I just think those three have the greatest melody writers in the last 65 years and we really do miss good melodies in modern pop music. It's dire. 

You’ve built a reputation as an incendiary live band. After playing alongside names like Frank Turner, David Byrne and Josh Homme, what’s the biggest lesson you’ve learned from watching other artists side‑stage that’s changed the way you perform?

I wouldn't say anything has changed in the way I perform, but it has reaffirmed it. The philosophy I've gotten from the top performers we've played alongside is to give as much energy as you can without it being in-authentic and revel in the fact that you've written music that has put you on stage in front of hundreds, thousands of people. Rehearse, be tight, but also leave it all out there. Like fucking Bobby Moore.  

And finally, would you rather be permanently locked into playing 500‑capacity sweatbox venues where the crowd goes absolutely feral every night, or graduate to arena‑level shows with huge production, massive sound and global reach?

Either is fucking fine by me!

Huge thanks to Luke for taking the time to chat with us and for offering such an unfiltered, thoughtful look into the world of False Heads — from early frustrations and feral gigs to full string sections, generational trauma, and the fight to keep pushing forward. With Oldest Part of Hell ready to make its mark, and Adrian Bushby helping the band reach the “fullness and hugeness” they’ve always chased, it feels like False Heads are stepping into their sharpest, most fearless era yet. We’re wishing Luke, Jake and Charlie every success as the new record rolls out, and we can’t wait to see these songs erupt onstage soon.

Socials

Instagram.com/falseheads

Facebook.com/falseheads

Tiktok.com/falseheads

Mark Chadwick has spent decades fronting Levellers with fire in his voice and politics in his pen — but his new solo album Ouse Dragon is something else entirely. It’s a drift into the uncanny. A headphone‑only expedition through forgotten corners of the South Downs, where folklore, tragedy and spectral beauty bleed into one another.

Released 21 August via On The Fiddle Recordings, Ouse Dragon is a six‑track suite of ambient storytelling, electronic drift and acoustic unease. It’s dreamlike, disorientating, and strangely intimate — the sound of a songwriter stepping away from the roar of the crowd and into the shadows of a place that has shaped him.

Chadwick frames the album as a guided walk through Lewes — “a small vibrant town with a river that slowly drifts through hills with buildings ancient and modern.” It’s a place he describes as sitting in the “forgotten parts of the South of England,” overshadowed by louder neighbours, yet full of stories that cling to the stones.

Those stories — murder, misadventure, possession, spirits, other dimensions — form the backbone of Ouse Dragon. “All of the stories herein are true,” he insists. And you believe him. The songs feel lived‑in, not invented.

The album opens with its nine‑minute title track, a slow‑creeping piece of eerie magic that sets the tone: strummed acoustic guitar dissolving into drifting keyboards, keening noises, and ghostly textures that feel like mist rolling off the Downs.

‘Chrysanthemums & Diadems’ follows — woozy, dramatic, and punctured by an unexpected police interruption that snaps the dream in half. It’s unsettling in the best way.

‘Dance Of The Crows’ shifts into pastoral hallucination, while ‘Leap’ — the album’s most conventional moment — pairs sweet melody with lyrics heavy with sadness. ‘Bearing Witness’ pulses with folkish insistence before the closing track ‘Paxos Room’ drags the listener deep into the darker recesses of imagination.

These aren’t songs so much as episodes — fragments of memory, myth and mood stitched together with Chadwick’s unmistakable voice.

Fans expecting Levellers‑style folk‑punk fire will find something quieter, stranger and more cinematic here. Ouse Dragon is Chadwick exploring the edges of his craft: ambient storytelling, leftfield electronics, and the kind of headphone‑only immersion that rewards stillness. It’s a record that asks you to stop, listen, and let the river take you.

Ouse Dragon is out 21 August 2026 on CD and all streaming platforms.

Tracklist:

1. Ouse Dragon

2. Chrysanthemums & Diadems

3. Dance Of The Crows

4. Leap

5. Bearing Witness

6. Paxos Room

The idea of seeing Yard Act twice in one day felt mischievous, indulgent, and absolutely necessary. Once news broke of a matinee show at Rough Trade Bristol — freshly refurbished, buzzing with anticipation — the decision made itself. You’re Gonna Need a Little Music had already sunk its hooks in after a single listen, and its title couldn’t ring truer. We need live music. We need independent venues. And on this particular afternoon, Rough Trade was exactly the right place to be.

The room filled quickly with familiar faces and excitable gig‑goers, including one fan who’d flown in from Brisbane only to discover Yard Act were playing that very day. That kind of cosmic luck jolts you out of any post‑work slump. Sweat gathered early, the air thick with the kind of communal eagerness only a matinee can conjure.

The band took the stage with a grin and a warning: this would be a freewheeling set. No drum kit, no fixed plan — just Jay armed with a toy drum‑sampling pad and the rest of the band ready to follow wherever the beat landed. It instantly shifted the energy. This wasn’t a run‑through; it was an experiment.

New Beginnings opened the show, a non‑negotiable starter that felt both familiar and triumphant. Yard Act don’t always lean into singalong choruses, but this one hit like a communal ignition switch. The band were buzzing, and the crowd matched them.

The freeform nature meant the setlist was chosen on the fly. Jay would tap out a beat, the others would scramble to remember the song, and occasionally it all felt like a gloriously messy jam session. Thrill of the Chase — already an instant album standout — arrived drenched in riffs courtesy of Sam Shipstone, whose guitar work ricocheted between Electric Six swagger and Gang of Four angularity. James Smith’s vocal delivery was breathless, intense, and met with the same cheers that greeted Sam’s axe‑slinging heroics.

This was a happy room. Toddler Rory — perched on his dad’s knee like a tiny rock critic — leapt to life and requested Redeemer, which the band delivered with a grin. It was that kind of show: spontaneous, absorbing, and shaped as much by the crowd as the performers.

As the set wrapped, James beamed: “It is great to be back.” The band headed off to Chilli Daddy to line their stomachs before round two.

If the matinee was a warm‑up, the evening show was Yard Act in full flight. The sell‑out crowd arrived raucous, ready, and already half‑buzzing from the knowledge that they were about to hear brand‑new material played twice in one day.

New Beginnings returned, but this time it was belted out by both band and crowd with doubled excitement and doubled volume. Singing it back word‑for‑word felt electric — and you could see what it meant to the band. That validation in the nervous new‑album stage is priceless. The second set leaned into spontaneity again, but with more structure: hands went up for requests to avoid the chaotic matinee shouting match. You even had to wait for the room to quieten before slipping your own request in. Dead Horse landed with classic Yard Act groove — up‑tempo funk, sax loop, and Ryan Needham shamed into standing up, which made absolutely no difference to the sound but somehow felt morally correct.

From there, the band revisited Where’s My Utopia? to James’s delight. Petroleum hit with its crisp, prominent bassline, culminating in a wild, ad‑libbed cacophony from Jay as he hunted for new sounds on the pad. Every time you looked at him he was grinning, having the time of his life — still seated, still unstoppable. Talky Talky People followed, another example of Yard Act’s mastery of simplicity. Simple songs are hard to write well, but Yard Act make them feel effortless. Lyrically, they’re never simple — James crams songs with lines you wish you’d written. “Do you want to be tired and bitter? Or tired and kind?” landed with alarming wit and precision.

Then came an extended, requested Trapper’s Pelts, sandwiched around a heartfelt message of gratitude. By this point the room was a pressure cooker — sweaty, loud, euphoric — proof that the new album sounds just as good live as it does on record, even when played in a completely different way.

You’re Gonna Need a Little Music is out now to purchase at all good outlets

Catch YARD ACT live in Bristol at The Beacon on 21st November and at Plymouth Arena on 23rd November - For more info and ALL dates, head to https://www.yardactors.com/

Words and Pictures by Matt Barnes

UNLUCKY are fast becoming one of London’s most compelling new acts, blending jagged electronic textures, distorted vocals and existential lyricism into a sound that feels both volatile and strangely intimate. Fresh off their Sebright Arms performance — and hinting at new material shaped by recent London studio sessions — the trio of Patrick James Fitzroy, Tamsin Wickens and Cameron Black channel a mix of industrial grit and emotional honesty that’s earning them a growing underground following.

With roots in a scene that’s currently buzzing with experimentation and cross‑pollination, UNLUCKY stand out for the sheer intent behind their music: raw, restless and unafraid to confront the darker corners of modern life. What follows is a conversation that digs into their origins, influences, creative process and future plans, plus a Come Dine With Me twist and their dream festival lineup featuring artists dead or alive.

Let’s start at the beginning — what were your earliest musical experiences, and when did you first feel that making music was going to be more than just a hobby?

Tamsin: My mum took me to Glastonbury when I was 11 years old. It was a real musical education for me. I can’t really remember being obsessed with music up until that point. I saw Gorillaz, Scissor Sisters, Snoop Dogg, and Thom Yorke and Johnny Greenwood played an impromptu set at the Park Stage; all of them have shaped my musical identity. I think I asked for my first guitar that year.

I think I decided to make music more than just a hobby when I decided to do a music degree. I just didn’t see myself doing well at uni if I wasn’t studying something I was really passionate about. I think we all share that same ethos, as we all did music degrees… or maybe we’re just not very good at anything else.

How long have you been creating music, either as UNLUCKY or in previous projects? Was there a defining moment that pushed you into taking it seriously?

Tamsin: The band started as a collection of songs that Patrick had been working on over a period of time. Then we all met at Primavera Festival in Barcelona a few years ago. Patrick and I started learning these songs, and shortly after that we started gigging. We actually had a few different drummers before Cam joined as a permanent member.

Pat: A lot of our first songs came from me periodically writing music outside of work I was doing with other artists. It was only after I realised there was a shared vibe between them all that I thought it would work well as a new project. I think the moment Cam joined the band and we’d sort of cemented the live show as the three of us was when I started to think this could be something quite significant.

Who else is in UNLUCKY, and what does each member bring to the overall sound? Give us a sense of the personalities behind the project.

Pat: So officially, UNLUCKY is Tamsin, Cam and I. Tamsin is primarily on vocals, guitar and Moog. I’m on vocals, guitar and production, and Cam is drums and samples (and occasionally wind chimes). If I had to define their identities within the band, Tamsin is raw energy, a very eye-catching performer, but also does a lot of the more experimental chops in the set. Cam is one of the most technically gifted drummers I know, but has a backhand like a boxer, so it’s all power, yet intricate detail. A lot of what I do tends to be guitars that don’t sound like guitars and vocals that don’t always sound particularly human, so I guess I’m bringing a bit of the mystery.

Where are you all based originally, and how buoyant is the music scene in your area right now?

Tamsin: I was born and raised in London, which I feel very lucky about! The DIY music scene is very vibrant. I’ve been playing and going to gigs since I was old enough to do so (or old enough to sneak in). In fact, my dad snuck me into see Wire at the Barfly in Camden age 13. I used to play a lot in Camden when I was a teenager in places like the Camden Assembly (fka Barfly), the Monarch (RIP), and the Lock Tavern, and there was a big scene of bands back then. In the last 10 years, it feels like a lot of the London music scene has moved to places like the Windmill Brixton and the George Tavern, which are great venues spearheading new bands.

Cam: I’m from Plymouth originally, so to me the idea of London in general was quite exotic and far off growing up! We were lucky to have a large venue, so I was going to gigs whenever people came through town, since I was tiny. But in terms of the live scene, it really revolved around a number of venues around the university, namely the Junction and The Underground, where my first band, amongst others, really shaped our own scene from the ages of 15 to 18. We’d play every weekend, even if it meant playing the same venue five weekends in a row… and we often got cut off as everyone coming to see us would turn up wasted and underage. I feel like we captured a real moment in time there. The scene still exists, but I’m not sure it’s full of the same daft kids anymore.

Pat: Although I was born in Cape Town, I grew up in Crawley (basically Gatwick Town) —a relatively austere place which, remarkably, also birthed The Cure… at my school, no less. In fact, "A Forest" is actually about Tilgate Forest in Crawley, which is as spooky as the song sounds. We had quite a thriving music scene growing up, but it died pretty quickly when many of us left town. Unfortunately, the lack of support for venues and live music spaces in the area just meant things would pop up and fizzle out very quickly. I hope that changes again soon.

Your Sebright Arms set had a distinct energy — who would you say are the key influences shaping UNLUCKY’s sound, whether musically, lyrically, or aesthetically?

Cam: I think we all draw from different places, but ultimately we all share a concept of what we think UNLUCKY is, even if it’s somewhat esoteric. For me, rhythmically I’m really influenced by the blend of sampled and live funk feels, Beck’s early stuff being a good example. Intricacy intertwined with a weight behind the beats — that’s what I like to bring into the music.

Pat: I think a lot of our music is really about the feeling of a headspace. I’m super interested in the psychology of music listening, and how music can really bend our perception. Lyrically, a lot of what I write about comes from years of dissecting the human condition when I was doing existential therapy, so ideas of existentialism and mortality show up a lot in our music.  

Link to Sebright Arms live review

Have you recorded in London yet? If so, which studio or producer did you work with, and what made that environment the right fit for the direction you’re taking?

Pat: So I’ve been working as a music producer professionally for the past six years, having transitioned from session work when COVID closed all the venues. A lot of our music has been recorded in my previous studio, which was located at FOLD in Canning Town. We’re now finishing off the rest in my new space in Aldgate, and I think the acceleration of the record has been significant since I moved here.

Tamsin: Our single No God was recorded across a few different sessions. We tracked at KONK Studios in Crouch End, finished recording at Pat’s previous studio in FOLD, and the final mix was done in the new studio in Aldgate.

When we spoke after the Sebright Arms show, Pat mentioned that his pedalboard was the “current” setup. Has the rig now reached its final form, or are there still tweaks, swaps, or experiments happening behind the scenes?

Pat: My pedalboard is sort of like the Sagrada Família, in that it is never really finished. The current iteration is probably the happiest I’ve been with it, but it’s also the biggest, so our load-ins have definitely become a bit more of a workout!

What’s next for UNLUCKY?

Pat: We’ve been bunkering down in the studio quite a lot this year, but we’re getting very close to finishing the album now. So keep your eyes on us, especially around September… all will be revealed in time.

Let’s do a Come Dine With Me special: if UNLUCKY hosted the perfect dinner party, what would you serve for starter, main course, and dessert — and which bandmate is most likely to cause chaos in the kitchen?

Pat: I’m gonna leave this one to the chefs (Tamsin and Cam are pretty skilled cooks!).

Tamsin: I love to cook all kinds of cuisines, but a few years ago I did a five-course French-themed dinner party paying homage to my grandad, who was a big Francophile and was also born on Bastille Day. It was delicious, and I think about it often.

The starter was pan-fried scallops with cauliflower purée and crispy fried capers. I also made a chicken liver pâté with homemade sourdough (I take cooking way too seriously).

For mains, I don’t think you can beat steak frites with a good peppercorn sauce, to be honest. God-tier food, in my opinion.

Cam's into his desserts and is usually my pastry chef, so I’ll leave that to him. I’m a cheese-over-dessert kind of girl anyway…

Cam: I like tiramisu… Unsophisticated? Perhaps. Delicious? Yes.

Tamsin: I think I might throw Cam out of the kitchen for that answer…

If you could curate your own festival lineup using any acts, dead or alive, who would you choose — and more importantly, why? What does each artist represent to you creatively or emotionally?

Cam: Tough... I’d probably go with Preoccupations, Jeff Buckley, Amerie, obviously… Parquet Courts, Portishead, Sabbath, Dinah Washington, Daft Punk, and maybe The Doors. Oh, and Crosby, Stills & Nash. For a whole host of reasons — mainly because they make me tear up and sometimes make me want to dance.

Pat: The three big headliners would be Boards of Canada, Björk and Blonde Redhead for me. Then I’d probably just leave the rest to lobbying from booking agents.

Tam: Pavement. Sonic Youth. David Bowie. Just them. Deep cuts. Let them play all weekend.

A huge thanks to UNLUCKY for taking the time to chat — their honesty, intensity and sharp creative vision make them one of the most exciting acts moving through London right now. If you’re in the city, you can catch them for free at The Shacklewell Arms, Dalston, on 25th September, a perfect chance to experience the full force of their live sound up close. Don’t miss it.

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A couple of years can change a person. For Sol, they changed everything — the music, the band, the way he sees himself, even the way he writes. What started as a teenage rebellion with a guitar has evolved into something sharper and more intentional, shaped by heavy break-ups, late-night doubts, and the kind of self-discovery you only get from stepping off a stage and knowing you were born for it. This interview captures BILK at the moment of reinvention: bruised, liberated, and finally sounding like the band they were always meant to be.

It’s been about two years since we last crossed paths at Boardmasters — what have the last couple of years looked like for you personally and for BILK as a band?

It’s hard to sum up everything that’s happened in the last couple of years. I’d say the main thing is I’ve grown into more of a man than I was before. I feel more like a man than a boy nowadays. I feel like you can hear that in the new music. I’ve learnt things, been through experiences, and changed in ways. Fundamentally though, I’m still the same person in essence — just a more mature version of myself, I guess, but that happens with age. I know who I am and what I’m about, and I’ve never changed that for anyone. And when I say mature, I don’t mean sensible. I still think it’s good to go out there and live free and make mistakes and be a human being and have fun. That’s who I am. I’ve been through a heavy break-up that left me in pieces, but then I was able to become the best version of myself after. People have come and gone in my life and a lot has gone down. So in a personal sense, life has happened. And I’m all for it. Bring it on. As a band we’ve changed a lot too. We’re like a whole new band now — new line-up, new formation, new music, new style, new attitude. It’s just different. We’ve grown and arrived at where we’re at our best now.

For anyone new to BILK, who’s in the band, and how would you describe the dynamic between the members?

As of right now, the official members of BILK are myself, Sol, on lead vocals and the songwriter of the band — I write all the songs myself — and Luke, who’s the bass player. Me and him are best mates; he’s my right-hand man. He reels me in when I’m too much, and I bring him out of his shell. We’re very different people, but we make a good dynamic because we balance each other. I’m spontaneous and like to live a bit wild — not in the wreckhead sense, but in my spirit — and Luke is more cautious and planned. He likes to plan his outfits weeks before shows, whereas I decide on the day. At the moment it’s just me and Luke. We’ve been using session members but are currently working on the line-up. We’re gonna bring in two new members — a drummer and a guitarist — to make BILK a four-piece band.

What were your earliest musical beginnings — the first instruments, first gigs, first sparks that made you think this is what you wanted to do?

When I was leaving school, that sort of age, I picked up a guitar again. I’d been taught the basics when I was younger because my dad always played guitar in cover bands with his mates, and he got me learning when I was really young. But I never took to it that much because I didn’t like having to play what I was told to play. I had to do it off my own back. When I was about 16, I got into punk and rock and roll and started rebelling against school and society in general, and I started writing. I formed a band and played my first ever show at a youth club in Brentwood, Essex. It was full of local emo kids and people from my school who were interested to hear I’d started a band. As soon as I stepped off the stage I knew I would do this for my whole life and that it was me. The feeling I got — and still do get sometimes — from stepping off the stage after a great gig is better than any drug, any orgasm, any high in life. I love it, and it’s me to a T.

Your sound blends punk, indie, rap, and raw British storytelling — who are the key influences that shaped that mix, and who’s inspiring the newer, more rock‑and‑roll direction you’ve been leaning into recently?

Before, I was influenced by the likes of Nirvana, The Sex Pistols, Green Day on the punky side of things, and then The Streets and a lot of rap music on the storytelling side. That got blended together and created the sound and style you hear in my earlier songs. Nowadays I’m into straight rock and roll. I didn’t like it when people would ask me what kind of music we play and I’d have to be like, “Oh, bit of this, bit of that.” I like to be able to say, “We’re a straight rock and roll band.” My focus is just being a cool-as-fuck great rock and roll band making good tunes and creating a good time. There’s not enough of it right now, I don’t think, and it’s what I’m into and what feels right for me, so I go with that. A lot of it is natural. But in terms of what bands and artists are inspiring this new stuff: The Strokes, Jet, Kings of Leon, Lenny Kravitz, The Doors, AC/DC — that’s just a few. Just broad rock and roll influences.

You’ve been developing BILK since around 2015 — how long have you considered yourself a musical artist, and what’s changed most about your approach since those early days?

I’d consider myself a musical artist since then really — about 2015/16, like you said. That’s when I started taking it seriously and got a band together. I was writing songs since about that time too. What’s changed since then in terms of my approach is that back then I’d be very concerned about lyrics and what I’m saying, whereas now I prefer an approach where it’s a bit more subjective to the listener. When you listen to early BILK stuff it’s more specific — you listen to one of our songs and it’s like, “OK, this is about that specific subject.” Whereas now I write from more of a subconscious place, to the point where a lot of the time I don’t even know what the song is about myself until later, or sometimes never. It comes from a place deep within and falls from the sky, but I know it means something because I feel from it. I wrote a song called Figure It Out that’s on our latest unreleased album, and that was about doubts I was going through in the long-term relationship I was in with my ex. It was only months after, when things started to go to shit, that I realised what I’d written that song about. It fucked with my head for weeks. It’s strange — it’s like the songs know more than I do.

Your new single Do Ya Want It dropped at the end of June and we played it on the Sonic Nomads New Music Podcast — what’s the story behind that track, how did it come together, and what does it say about where BILK are heading next?

Do Ya Want It was the first song of this new era that I wrote. I was in a terrible, very lost place for about three months after we came off our last album tour. I didn’t know where I was going with the music or what I was doing, but I knew I was dissatisfied with the current version of BILK at that time. I trialled and errored a lot of different styles of music and spent a lot of nights frustrated and confused, but then one night I sat down with my acoustic and Do Ya Want It came out of me in about four minutes. That same night I wrote about five other songs, probably one or two of which made the latest album. It spurred on the whole new direction. I don’t know where it came from or what happened, but the song came to me and I ran with it. I think as a song, being about going out and living and getting what you want in life, it made sense at the time — especially with the lyrics in the bridge: “And it might break your mind but it’s just the price you pay.” That lyric still hits today for me because this job and lifestyle I’ve chosen is crazy and it can drive you crazy. But I love it and couldn’t see myself doing anything else.

You’re proudly from Chelmsford — how would you describe the music scene there right now, and what role do you think grassroots venues in Essex play in shaping new artists?

There are a few small bands knocking about in Chelmsford doing their thing, and I say good luck and fair play to ’em. As I’ve gotten older my attitude is very much: if you’ve gone and started a band and you’re doing it, even if I don’t like it personally, I say fair play to you. I believe there are two types of people in life — the people that do things, and the people that stand on the sidelines and point their fingers and laugh. And it’s a lot easier to do the second option. It takes guts to go and do something in your life, I think. So there’s an immediate respect for those people, even if the music isn’t for me. But going back to venues and bands in Essex — yeah, I mean, there’s not a great scene if I’m honest. There’s a venue called Hotbox in Chelmsford which is brilliant; it’s my home away from home. My equivalent to the Whisky a Go Go. It’s the place I go to drink a lot. I’m friends with the owners — it’s a cool-as-fuck venue that’s keeping it alive — and I go there a lot of Saturday nights for the dominoes nights hosted by a good friend of mine, Papa D. The Jamaican community in Chelmsford all get together, play dominoes and blast reggae tunes, and it’s a great time.

Let’s do a Come Dine With Me special — if you were hosting the perfect three‑course dinner, what’s your starter, main, and dessert, and which band member would cause the most chaos in the kitchen?

I’d cause the most chaos because whenever I cook it’s like I’m redecorating the kitchen. I’m very messy. Luke’s chilled as anything — he’d make a banging risotto and do it blindfolded with meditation music in his headphones. I’m like some mad octopus flicking sauce around the place hoping it goes right. It must be my long limbs. For the starter I’d make a Marco Pierre White special because I love that man — sourdough toast, butter, anchovies, thinly sliced shallots and chopped parsley on top. A beautiful jig on your palate. For the main I’d make a sun-dried tomato pasta, which I must say I’m very good at. And for dessert: a digestive biscuit.

If you could curate your own festival lineup with any artists, dead or alive, who’s headlining — and more importantly, why those acts? What do they represent to you or to the spirit of BILK?

For the headliner I’d have Oasis because they’re great for that sort of thing and I love them. Before Oasis I’d have The Doors. Actually, I don’t know — that wouldn’t really work, would it? The Doors would have to headline. Maybe they’d do separate days. Yeah, they’d do alternate days. Oasis would do it one day for the beer drinkers and people slinging cups of piss, and then I’d have The Doors on the next day and we’d have a big fire pit in the middle and everyone’s taking magic mushrooms. We’d all have a life-changing experience. It would be transformative.

With Essex, Drugs and Rock and Roll out and the Liveline‑funded grassroots tour underway, what’s next for BILK? Are we talking new music, a sonic reinvention, bigger shows, or something completely unexpected?

Old BILK is dead. New BILK is here. There will be new music, new shows, new line-up, new vibe, new style. I’m just on the microphone now instead of playing guitar. It’s all-round different. It’s a new band. We want people to be free, liberated, forget their worries, forget their doubts, forget judgement from others and society. Have a good time, wear what you want to wear, be who you want to be, love who you want to love, fuck who you want to fuck, and be free. Make mistakes — go out and do it. Go out and live. I know that wasn’t really the question, but I said it anyway.

A huge thanks to Sol for taking the time to sit down with us and dive into the new era of BILK. It’s clear this chapter means something, and the honesty behind it deserves to be heard loud. If you’re not already following the band, get on it — and if they roll through your town, don’t hesitate. Go see them live. BILK are built for the stage, and this new line‑up is ready to prove it.

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Some bands arrive fully formed; others claw their way out of the suburbs with a thirty‑buck guitar and a head full of Bowie. The Yummy Fur did the latter. Born in the early 90s and shaped by Blantyre’s brutalist edges, Televisions’ wiry guitars, and the feedback‑soaked mythology of East Kilbride, John McKeown’s cult Glasgow outfit has always operated at a strange, brilliant angle to the rest of the city’s scene.

Across the decades, The Yummy Fur have remained gloriously singular: a revolving crate of bass players, a core trio who never quite stopped, and a creative process that treats cultural detritus like treasure. Their influence has quietly rippled outward, future Franz Ferdinand members passed through their ranks, yet the band themselves have stayed defiantly off‑grid, powered by iPod Classics (120gb), Mac McNaughton paintings, and a worldview where social commentary is optional but absurdity is essential.

With renewed interest from younger listeners and a fresh run of releases, The Yummy Fur are once again bending the rules of what a Glasgow band can be. In this interview, McKeown reflects on dangerous suburbs, demented guitar lessons, the tyranny of looper pedals, and why his dream festival involves Chris Burden getting shot again — all delivered with the dry, surreal humour that has always made The Yummy Fur feel like their own self‑contained universe.

You originally formed The Yummy Fur back in 1992, what were your earliest musical experiences growing up in Glasgow, and how did those shape the band’s first steps?

I grew up in Blantyre, outside Glasgow, and spent most of my time listening to David Bowie and thinking about him. I didn't really think of David Bowie as music. He was a thing called David Bowie and he was everything. Later I listened to Television’s Marquee Moon, The Fall’s Bend Sinister, The Birthday Party’s Junkyard and The Jesus and Mary Chain’s Psychocandy and realised what guitars and drums were and how this could be something which might involve me in the real world. I bought a guitar for thirty bucks with strings an inch off the fretboard. I pretty much started writing songs on it and skipped the learning-to-play-it bit. Blantyre was far too dangerous to ever leave the house so we stayed home and wrote our way out of violent suburbia.

Did you ever rub shoulders with the Bellshill mob? Teenage Fanclub, The Soup Dragons etc?

I was born in Bellshill Maternity Hospital. For a while nearly everyone i knew was born there. But we never went there. Later we knew those people once everyone had moved into town. Norman Blake (Teenage Fanclub) produced the first record by my band, 1990s, and played bass on a European tour. We recorded a 7" for his wife's shop. He's a proper stand-up guy and gave me his copy of United by Throbbing Gristle once which was at the outer realms of niceness. Sushil of Soup Dragons is a good pal and I play bass and guitar for his daughter, Radhika, when he is back in India. She is the future.

Your sound has often been described as sitting somewhere between The Fall and Half Man Half Biscuit. Who were the key artists or scenes that genuinely shaped your songwriting and guitar approach?

I love the demented, focused aggression of I Hate Nerys Hughes but I dont see much connection between the bands. Social commentary I guess. I learned guitar off Marquee Moon and Junkyard by The Birthday Party. The Mary Chain were a big influence as they were from East Kilbride where we used to go swimming at the brutalist Dolan Baths in the 70s. They'd moved to London by the time they were on our radar but we still assumed they were sat up in EK carving pop from feedback and bad vibes.

You’ve been writing and performing for over three decades now, how has your creative process evolved from those early basement recordings to the present day?

Cultural magpie, then and now. These days I've dialed back the social commentary. It's not my world; I might get it wrong. Stop making sense making sense making sense.

The Yummy Fur has had a famously shifting lineup over the years, including future members of Franz Ferdinand. Who’s currently involved in the band, and how does that dynamic compare to the 90s era?

It's the same three people since the mid 90s: Paul, Brian and myself. We've got a big box of bass players and we usually just drag the crate up from the basement, unlock it and the first one out gets to play. They're always really grateful especially if you feed em!

Glasgow has always had a reputation for producing fiercely independent bands. How buoyant is the music scene there today, and what new artists or venues excite you?

I like Radhika and The Crails which, sadly, is two different acts. My cat sitter, Tilly, plays under the name Craggyland and is immensely talented like listening to Sandy Denny perform A Sailor's Life with an electric toothbrush for an E-bow. The music scene seems a bit laptop-heavy these days which i think arrived with the ‘Tabithas and Tarquins’ about fifteen years ago. The looper pedal is the mistress of the eternally lonely.

Your 2019 release Piggy Wings arrived two decades after the band’s initial split. What made 2019 the right moment to finally bring those songs into the streaming age?

Dunno. It was supposed to come out around 2010 but life got right up in our grills and we backed off. You could always hear our stuff on YouTube anyway. I never use Spotify. I'm strictly iPod Classic 120GB. The most interesting aspect of Piggy Wings was it was our first release with a Mac McNaughton painting on the sleeve. He's since did the covers for the New T-shirt 7", the Everybody Talks About the Weather album and its companion CD, Heavy Weather. These days he paints the sleeve first and we try to imagine what the music might sound like.

If you were hosting a Come Dine With Me night, what would you serve for starter, main, and dessert—and what does that menu say about you?

Starter: Dreamies
Main: Purina Gourmet in a rich gravy
Dessert: Crowley's Cakes of Light

This menu says EVERYTHING about me

If you could curate a dream festival lineup with any acts, dead or alive, who would you choose, and why do those artists resonate so strongly with you?

Chris Burden re-enacting Shoot (1971) with Agnes Varda holding the gun
David Hockney painting Beverly Hills Housewife (1967) LIVE!!!
David Hess acoustic show
Remedios Varo v Dorothea Tanning (cage fight)

Your name comes from Chester Brown’s comic Yummy Fur. What drew you to that title originally, and how do you feel it reflects the band’s personality?

I used to read Yummy Fur and Eightball quite a bit in the 80s. My sister ripped the logo off of one of my Chester Browns and stuck it on her bass and I think the logo just drilled a tiny hole in my brain thru repetition. Recently, my pal got me a signed copy of his book, Paying For It, when he came to L.A. It says 'Hey, John Yummy Fur.' He asked if he'd heard of the band and Brown said he hadn't but his partner in crime, Sook-Yin Lee, reminded him that he had. Boy, this anecdote took ages to type on my phone and when i read it back it was barely on the threshold of interesting.

With renewed interest in your work and a growing younger fanbase discovering you for the first time, what’s next for The Yummy Fur—new music, shows, collaborations?

The next thing we're going to do is squeeze the cast of our Unity Over Europe video into my bedroom with the big yellow wall then force them to mime to our song, Headphones, and then...and only then, when they've finally returned to their villages and caves, subject that footage to intense colour distortion and pass it off as 'promo' in the new world.

Finally, would you rather live with a singing dog that really smells or a gorilla that can cook but tells awful jokes?

I'm not mad keen on dogs. Don't they all smell kinda bad? Bring me the gorilla. 

A huge thanks to John for taking the time to dive back into the early days, the chaotic brilliance, and the long, winding path that’s led The Yummy Fur all the way into 2026. Few artists tell their story with such sharp wit, surreal charm, and total honesty, and it’s a joy to have him spill the beans on everything from Blantyre basements to Mac McNaughton sleeves.

If you want to keep up with new releases, live dates, and whatever wonderfully odd project they dream up next, make sure you check out their socials and stay tuned for updates.

Catch them on tour at the following venues.

05/10/26 - Oxford - Little Bully
06/10/26 - Exeter -The Cavern
07/10/26 - Brighton - The Prince Albert
08/10/26 - Norwich - The Holloway
09/10/26 - London - The Lexington
10/10/26 - Bristol - Cafe Kino
11/10/26 - Manchester - Kamera

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Brooklyn-based writer, performer, producer, and recording engineer Dan Fisher has carved out a cinematic, world‑building approach to music that feels less like a collection of songs and more like a fully realised environment. Raised between London and the United States, Fisher’s outsider perspective informs the emotional precision and textured production that define his debut EP, The Domino Accords, a six‑track release that invites listeners into a wide, atmospheric world built from curiosity, reinvention, and a refusal to settle into a single identity.

Working out of Parasol Studios, Fisher produces, records, mixes, and masters everything himself, shaping a tactile sound that favours grain, pressure, and physical detail over polish. Before stepping into his solo project, he completed three international tours as bassist for Sid Simons — an experience that sharpened his instincts and set the stage for the narrative‑driven work he’s now releasing.

With The Domino Accords out in the world, we sat down with Fisher to explore his influences, early musical beginnings, creative process, and what comes next.

The Domino Accords has a strong cinematic quality — almost like a world listeners can step into. What was the initial spark behind this EP, and what atmosphere were you trying to create?

The Domino Accords is one of those rare circumstances where I’m actually happy with the result.  You get into this mentality of “the work is never finished” - especially when you're the one producing your own stuff.  From the musical side, I was really interested in writing without focusing on traditional song structures, keys, or time signatures.  I made a vow to “forget everything I knew”, and see what happens.  I was also really into maximalist arrangements, and tried to fit as many musical ideas in as I could.  It was a puzzle, and I didn’t know what the final image would be until it was put together.  The result, both thematically & musically, is a real Frankenstein.  It’s energetic, dark, trippy & sometimes absurd.  I think the highs & lows of The Domino Accords make for a really interesting listening journey.  

You’ve described your music as behaving “more like cinema than song.” How did that narrative‑driven approach develop, and what draws you to storytelling through sound?

I used to do a lot of visual art - painting, film, animation etc. - and from those experiences, I’m always trying to find ways to blur the lines between artistic mediums.  Lyrically, I try to paint a picture with words that strike the visual cortex of the brain as much as the music strikes the auditory cortex.  As an exercise when I’m making something new, I’ll write down keywords that evoke sensory reactions to try and get to the root of what I want to portray.  For example:

“Mirrors, Ritual, Neon Bright, The Smell of Sawdust, Wet Masquera, Dried Ink, Phantom Limb, Cheap Floor Polish, Cigarettes”.  

The story is born out of these waypoints, like a map, and I’m often surprised by the result.  I don’t think I really write the “story” (if there is one) - the story exists out there, somewhere, and I’m just lucky enough to write it down.  If I didn’t, someone else would, because the song existed before I wrote it.  

Music is the oldest form of story telling, a way to both connect through the abstract and the deeply personal.  It’s a sacred tradition, and I try to bring that awareness into every writing session. 

Your influences range from LCD Soundsystem to Talking Heads — artists known for reinvention and curiosity. Who else has shaped your sonic identity, especially in terms of posture and experimentation?

I’ve been writing music my whole life, pretty much, with some slips over the years.  Throughout that journey, I’ve dipped my toes into pretty much every genre.  Electronic, Folk, Punk-Rock, Acoustic Fingerstyle, Lo-fi Garage, Surf Rock… hell, even Ambient.  I got bored really easily and was always in search of the next thing that would spark my curiosity.  For years, I thought it was a weakness.  I thought that if I could just get good at one style, then everything else would flow.  But, here we are now, and I’m still not nailed down.  

Finding artists like Bowie, James Murphy & King Gizzard really helped open my eyes.  It was a lightbulb moment where I realized I didn’t have to be just one thing, much to the chagrin of radio/labels.  I’m free to be an explorer without a destination.  That’s where the good life lies, I think, and it’s incredibly exciting.  The moment monotony rears its beige head, I know I need to switch it up.  Being independent has its perks.

Growing up between London and the U.S. gave you a unique cultural vantage point. How has that outsider perspective shaped your writing, production, and artistic identity?

It’s true that I moved around a lot.  I was exposed to a lot of different beliefs, interests, and even disappointments.  I’m grateful for that.  It’s hard for me to “settle down”, both literally and creatively, but I think I’ve found people to call home here in Brooklyn.  I don’t think it’s influenced my production style.  Writing wise, I guess it influences the words I borrow?  Some of my lyrics are quite unconventional.  I think any form of travel - by choice or otherwise - is good for the soul.  It helps you understand that there’s always more than one side to a story, which helps me as an artist see things more holistically.  

Before going solo, you toured internationally as Sid Simons’ bassist. What did those experiences teach you, and how did they prepare you for launching your own project?

Man, that was a great time.  Touring can be tough, but at the end of the day, you're just getting in a van with your best friends, driving around and playing music.  It’s an adventure for sure.  It taught me a lot about what it takes to pull off a gauntlet tour, how to bring your best to the stage no matter what, and how to use individual strengths to help the group.  There’s so much behind the scenes stuff that the audience never sees, so I feel a lot more prepared for the future.  Also, learning how to take better photos didn’t hurt.  

The Europe leg was especially grueling - I think it was 24 shows in 25 days? - something like that.  Some countries were a bit of a blur, but once you push past a certain comfort level, a second wind kicks in and then it’s over before you know it.  I’m very thankful to Sid & the band.  Best summer of my life, and I wouldn’t trade it for the world. 

You handle everything yourself — producing, recording, mixing, and mastering at Parasol Studios. What does complete creative control allow you to achieve that collaboration might not?

First and foremost it’s convenient.  If you’ve got the studio setup, the liveroom, the mics and whatnot, why not use them?  I’m really comfortable in my own environment, which leads to being looser and experimenting more.  There’s also the side to it that recording/producing/mixing/mastering my own stuff is really a practice of going mad.  If I subjected my bandmates to listening to the same riff for hours on end they’d probably form an angry mob with pitchforks outside the studio doors.  It’s easier to get in the flow state without worrying about other people’s comfort/boredom.  Part of it is an exercise in control, probably, which isn’t the healthiest.  I get obsessive. 

All this is not to say that there’s zero collaboration.  I find it really valuable to get another set of ears on something after you’ve listened to it a bajillion times.  Fresh perspectives from my colleagues both inside & outside of the studio have helped me a ton when I’m stuck like a skipping vinyl.  I prefer to do the gruntwork myself, though, as I really get to know the songs inside and out.  

Your singles explore very different emotional territories — from the prophecy themes of “Anasia” to the generational weight of “Little Falls.” How do you decide where each song needs to go sonically and emotionally?

The simple answer is that I don’t decide.  There’s always a beginning - a lyric, a guitar riff, a drum groove.  It starts like a block of marble, and the more you chisel away at it, the more a sculpture emerges, but the fact is that the sculpture was there the whole time.  I let a song become what it wants to be, and try to take myself out of the equation.  Maybe it’s spiritual woo-woo, but it’s really the best way I know how to write.  It taps into something - source, subconscious, whatever you want to call it - that’s hard to describe, but I think every creative person knows what I’m talking about.  

The caveat is that even when practicing this, there’s always a piece of yourself that makes it in.  Sometimes the song ends up being super out-there, sometimes it forms into something deeply personal.  Sometimes, both.  

“Little Falls” draws on your grandfather’s story and generational trauma. How important is personal history in shaping the narratives you build in your music?

It really depends on the song.  For “Little Falls”, I was going through a dark period, even if I didn’t know it at the time.  I was struggling with feelings that I kept making the same mistakes over and over again.  My grandparents passed away some years back, and I guess my grandfather in particular was on my mind, as were his struggles.  Often families pass on things that were left unresolved within their own lives.  Maybe being human is just a constant cycle of trying to break the cycle.  

We’re all different people throughout our lives, and a song is a way of capturing that moment, much like a photograph.  I was talking with a friend on the phone the other week about music & art, and I think she put it beautifully.  She said that music is “the gift of the sacred mirror”.  You capture a snapshot of the person you were, and present it as a gift of self-knowing, so that the listener can see themselves more clearly.  It’s beautiful because it’s so temporary.  

Your production style favours physical detail — the grain of a guitar, the pressure in a vocal. What attracts you to that tactile, room‑occupying sound?

This is one of my favorite things to talk about.  For me, the sonic texture of sound is just as important as the music itself.  It’s not just what you say, it’s how you say it.  I look to the great experimenters, namely Tchad Blake, Slyvia Massey, Kevin Parker & Shawn Everett.  Anything they touch has a unique “sonic signature” that really transports you into a perfectly imperfect world.  That’s what I’m trying to carve out for myself.  I’m attracted to music that feels like a 3D sound-stage.  Like you can hear the whisper of a shaker two feet to your left, while the drums are off in some far away nuclear silo.  There’s something about it that gets me going, and I think draws listeners in immediately.  Plus, it’s more fun to experiment in the studio than just rehashing the same old recording techniques.  Why not turn a pair of headphones into a microphone, use an old 70’s mixing board as a stereo fuzz pedal, or sing balancing on one foot blindfolded?  Don’t answer that, I’d rather not know.

With The Domino Accords now released, what’s next for you? Are you already exploring new sonic territories, or is there more to uncover within this universe you’ve created?

For now, I think the door on The Domino Accords is closed.  I said what I set out to say, and spent a good amount of time in that world.  Maybe I’ll revisit that sonic territory in the future, but I’m already exploring other shores.  It’s always good to get out of your comfort zone.  I’m working on an album, which I don’t want to say too much about.  It’ll be different, but still unmistakably “me”.  

In the immediate future, I’ll be working on the live performance side of things, visuals & chipping away at new songs behind the scenes.  I can’t say when the next batch of songs will come out, but I can promise it won’t be a long wait.  

A huge thank you to Dan Fisher for taking the time to sit down with me and share the stories, instincts, and creative impulses behind The Domino Accords. It’s always a privilege to speak with an artist so deeply committed to world‑building, curiosity, and craft, and we wish him every success as he continues shaping whatever comes next.

Keep up to date with all of Dan’s musical movements via his socials — new releases, studio glimpses, live dates, and everything in between. And if you get the chance to catch him live, wherever that may be, do it. You can thank me later.

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Katy Perry is about to make pop history all over again. Fresh from its acclaimed debut at the Tribeca Festival, Katy Perry: The Lifetimes Tour – Live from Paris is heading to cinemas across the globe this September, transforming one of the most ambitious pop tours of the decade into a full‑scale, immersive big‑screen event.

Launching worldwide on Wednesday 2 September 2026, the concert film will screen in 70 countries, including 150 cinemas across the UK, with tickets available from Thursday 30 July at katyperryconcertfilm.com.

Filmed over two sold‑out nights in Paris during Perry’s 2025 Lifetimes Tour, the production pushes far beyond the boundaries of a traditional concert film. Shot using a staggering 60‑camera setup, the film sweeps above, around and through the show, capturing angles and moments even front‑row fans never saw.

The result is a cinematic reimagining of Perry’s most ambitious live show to date, a gravity‑defying, neon‑drenched pop universe built for spectacle.

The film’s 132‑minute runtime is packed with hits from across Perry’s two‑decade career. Expect the full technicolour blast of:

• “Teenage Dream”

• “California Gurls”

• “Dark Horse”

• “Roar”

• “Firework”

And yes, “The One That Got Away” makes a triumphant return, riding the wave of its 2026 resurgence that pushed it into Spotify’s Global Top 10 and helped Perry reach a new peak of 91 million monthly listeners.

The original tour was a juggernaut. Across 91 shows, 23 countries and five continents, Perry performed to more than one million fans, selling 1,058,950 tickets and generating $134 million in gross sales.

Highlights included:

• Six historic shows in China — a rare feat for Western artists

• A finale in Abu Dhabi

• Charitable donations to the Firework Foundation (US) and Music Venue Trust (UK)

It was a tour built on scale, imagination and heart — and now it’s being preserved in cinematic form.

Producer Daniel E. Catullo III describes the film as “Katy’s love letter to her fans”, capturing the electricity of the live show and the emotional connection Perry has built with her audience over two decades.

Tribeca’s world premiere reportedly turned into a full‑blown celebration, with fans, dancers and Perry herself singing and dancing throughout the screening.

UK fans can catch the film from 2 September at 150 cinemas nationwide, including IMAX screenings for maximum spectacle.

Concert films are having a renaissance — but Perry’s entry stands out. It’s not just a document of a tour; it’s a statement of longevity, cultural impact and pop craftsmanship. For fans, it’s a chance to relive the spectacle. For newcomers, it’s a gateway into one of pop’s most colourful, imaginative worlds.

And for the industry, it’s another reminder that Perry remains one of the defining pop artists of her generation.

TICKETS ON SALE FROM THURSDAY, JULY 30 AT WWW.KATYPERRYCONCERTFILM.COM