Wild Beasts really nailed their colours to the mast with 2009's Two Dancers, a superlative release confirming the band as one of the more inspiring instances of British boys picking up guitars in recent memory. Their sparky debut - Limbo, Panto - had been the very essence of adolescent awkwardness, with a full set of adult features but lacking the werewithal to frame them elegantly, but in flying the nest with such unexpected grace its follow-up represented a daring coup. Now with a third, more electronically-inclined third album in the can and ready to do business sometime in the spring, we caught up with frontmen Hayden Thorpe and Tom Fleming to find out more...

 

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Hello there, and well done on finishing the new record.

Hayden:"Thanks, we're all really excited. The important thing about how we approach making records is we do it before we have time to overthink it so it's always very cathartic, always an expelling of things. We always end up with a record before we know what the record is, so we can't second guess ourselves - if we did that we'd end up getting ourselves in a right tangle. All the decisions we make have to be instinctive and guttural, it's like the biggest decisions can seem like the smallest decisions when you just go ahead and make them.

 

 

Thematically you've been inspired by Mary Shelley's Frankenstein for the album - what other areas have the lyrics been exploring this time around?

 

Tom: "It's the same areas we were at last time, this sense of things being seen through someone else's eyes and it not necessarily being the truth, it's always magnified. There's a Brazilian writer called Clarice Lispector, who I think is without question the best writer I've ever discovered. She was writing in the seventies and eighties, her thing is definitely to do with how the self is a prison to the world and how it's not necessarily true what you're reading. But you have to be positive, and I think the record is softer, a happier record than maybe we were expecting. It sounds like I'm talking about the muse I have no control over, but our whole modus operandi is not about sitting around waiting for the muse to attend, we like to move quickly."

 

Hayden: "It's been very cathartic. We've been on the road for a year as all bands do, we're not exceptional in that sense. The difference is that when we were really exhausted we just went straight in to rehearse and used that as our comfort and consoling device, and that's why the music became very integral to us really, because we relied on it. It's just a very human record, it's more relaxed - much more so than we thought it would end up being."

 

Do you have a title yet?

 

Hayden: "We've got some ideas. It's like looking through a kaleidoscope and trying to pick out a certain colour. But it's been very exhausting it's been very natural and essential really, when you make a record it's like building a world for yourself that you're going to have to live in, just as the one behind you starts to collapse - we're gonna have to play this record for two years now. There's that split second where you have to jump between the two."

 

And you spent time in Dalston writing for the record, is that right?

 

Hayden: "All the writing was done in Dalston, we were there for six weeks. For us it was amazing, The Horrors were next door, we'd walk down the street and bump into friends of ours like Ben from Fuck Buttons... Fuck Buttons are a huge influence, we adore their music and to just bump into them on the way to rehearsals is great. Sometimes in Leeds it feels like you're in a creative ghetto, we were a bit odd for being a professional band. I was made to feel weird for practising in a basement five days a week rather than going out to Bondi Beach or Walkabout or wherever. And it's really liberating in London to be with people who actually were encouraging and made you feel like this was a normal thing, you know."

 

 

Musically you've mentioned it will be more of an electronically-based affair, was that an eye-opening experience for you recording-wise?

 

Tom: "Well with the last record I think we tried to incorporate some elements of how electronic music was constructed in terms of how you can play it as a band, whereas this time we're going a little deeper into that. We've just fallen in love with pad sounds, smoother sounds, texture and atmosphere - things that are impossible to do as a straight guitar band, so it was something we wanted to approach. The record is quite personalised, all the vocals are going to be singing quite close, it's mixed quite intimately. So it'll be that up against the kind of depersonalising effect of the electronics. There are a lot more overdubs as well; a lot of the songs were built as band arrangements and then taken apart and built up again as studio arrangements. So there is gonna be a bit of reloading and re-establishing, a bit of learning to do."

 

And do you have a final track-listing sorted?

 

Tom: "We've got quite a short album, that's how we like it but there was definitely a lot of material. I think the mixing and remixing potential for this are endless, there are a lot of sounds on the record which are buried which could be really prominent, it's very carefully arranged. It's more dense in a way. There were a few decorations and everything but really the last record was really just the sound of us in a room whereas that's not necessarily the case this time around. But it does sound like we've got about ten albums each."

 

There's always been a sense of purpose about you as a band, has that only increased now you've established an audience with Two Dancers?

 

Hayden: "Absolutely, the sense of empowerment is massive, the sense of having people listen and the feeling of responsibility, it feels like something to rise to rather than be overwhelmed by. It makes our jobs easier, because we do speak in code - we want people to come to us and to understand us on our terms rather than this ridiculous sense of having to dumb things down. There's this preconception that people need things to be simplified for them - they don't. The new one could go down like the first one, with a damp whimper of confusion, but that's something which is out of our control, it's not something we can be too concerned about. But I hope this record does well, because I need to do this job and I'd be fucking useless at anything else by now. You just have to have faith, as George Michael would say."

Tamaryn make music to listen to when you're feeling sexy in a post-apocalyptic kinda way; a slow-motion bloom of coruscating, shoegazey guitar work and darkly entrancing vocals. Comprised principally of vocalist Tamaryn (from which the band takes its name, rather than the other way around) and guitarist/producer Rex John Silverton, we must be a hundred listens in to The Waves - the San Francisco outfit's debut LP for Mexican Summer - and still we can't see the bottom approaching.

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You're from New Zealand originally, why did you end up moving to the States?

I was sort of living between (New Zealand) and the Pacific North West of the United States until I was seven. I was raised predominately by my mother and my godmother, they were both Jungian psychologists and they started a halfway house for street gang members in New Zealand. But we were always back and forth. Then I moved to America and travelled a lot. I was raised in a very unconventional way. They're very 'on a whim' kind of people, I would move maybe three or four times a year.

Was the wanderlust contagious?

Well I moved to New York when I was 18 and stayed there for nine years, and that was the longest I've stayed anywhere. I definitely think all the Jungian psychology, all that symbolism and stuff about archetypes rubbed off on my music and my outlook generally. We always moved to incredibly beautiful places and I was always put into weird situations and different social groups, it was challenging I think. I guess it made me more of a character.

Sounds tough in a way.

I had an awful time fitting in anywhere, I was often miserable. I was never the popular kid. In fact I was the opposite, sometimes we'd move to very conservative towns and here I am, in what to the outside world could look like a cult or a commune. Total freaks, artists... They terrorised me. I remember we lived in the Cascade Mountains in Washington State which is like Hicksville basically, and we lived in one of these really old colonial houses which my mother painted it hot pink with yellow trim and said it was Caribbean. But I also learned a lot, I feel like I could have ended up living in mediocrity but I was instilled with a very strong sense of respect for creativity and individualism as a woman.

How did Jungian philosophy influence your music specifically?

It was more on the first EP, that's really my abstract version of a journey into the collective unconscious. Whereas this one (The Waves) is more based on grand symbolism, it's more integrated in terms of the way the music makes me feel. For me the best music is the kind of thing I can crawl up inside of and lose myself in. I spend a great deal of time on my own, especially where I live, I don't really know anyone. I moved to San Francisco to New York to be closer to Rex you see, so I was quite isolated when I wrote the record. But it inspired me to have an album that's like an old-school experience, where you can go inside and lose yourself. I wanted it to be one complete thought. I love records like Disintegration by The Cure, it's like they really set their parameters and explore one atmosphere to the fullest. It was emotionally draining, making this record. We don't use digital effects, we don't use pedals - it's a very simple set, up but those limitations have created our sound.

Your music often gets described in very elemental terms, are you a bit of a nature girl at heart?

It's funny, the first question I always get in interviews is like, 'what is your deal with nature? What are you trying to say, are you trying to promote a certain kind of lifestyle?' But it's not really like that. It's more like with Werner Herzog - emotional landscapes. And the music has this vast inner emotional depth that mirrors landscapes in nature or whatever. The desert on the cover is a place near Las Vegas called the Valley of Fire, I used to go there when I was a kid and it was such a psychedelic experience. There's all this red, fiery rock and weird formations with these different faces looking at you, it's like a million years old. I always knew I wanted to use that imagery for something when I got older.

You said in previous interviews that your music became lighter in tone with your move to San Francisco...

Well the first EP is a culmination of songs I'd been writing over five years or so with Rex while we were living in different cities. The thing is in New York I was very much inspired by things like Lydia Lunch, Foetus and Swans - scum rock and post-heroin chic, that stuff really fascinated me. I guess every teenager has that. So there's a duality on the first EP between the darker, angular songs and there's the more beautiful-type stuff. And this record's a bit more restrained, sweeter at times.

You met Rex in New York?

Yes, he was on tour at the time. We became friends and would send each other mix CDs or whatever. I was always in my house with my cheap reel-to-reel four-track pretending to be Nico, I couldn't figure out how to get out of that space. So Rex said he would help me make songs and then told me to put a band together, and the more we worked with each other the more it became apparent that, uh... Finding a band mate is like finding true love, and he's definitely my musical partner. I really romanticise the whole vocalist-guitar player thing, like Morrissey and Marr or Bernard Butler and Brett Anderson! I feel like we have that now, I mean I'm not Brett Anderson but we have chemistry.

How's your working relationship with Rex?

The process of making music has changed with us over the years. In the beginning Rex was always asking what constitutes a Tarmaryn song, but now we're at the point with the next record (which the band is currently writing for) where there's no discussion. And that's new - it just become very apparent what we do.