Tame Impala - Live Review

Tame Impala, Alexandra Palace, London – psychedelic cult heroes prove their arena credentials with kaleidoscopic performance 

****

For a band that’s plied their trade so heavily on introversion and isolation, Tame Impala’s glacial synths and technicolour melodies translate remarkably well to Alexandra Palace’s 10,000-strong capacity. Parallel to their chameleonic sound, the set proves a thumping, glittering disco, a synth-drenched chill-out and raucous psychedelic carnival in equal measure. ‘Mind Mischief’ and ‘Apocalypse Dreams’ become sprawling kaleidoscopic jams; ‘The Moment’ and ‘The Less I Know The Better’ flaunt Parker’s penchant for crystalline “dorky, white disco funk”; respective curtain raiser and closer ‘Let It Happen’, ‘Same Person, Old Mistakes’ homogenous of Kevin Parker’s musical schizophrenia. A once-withdrawn, sheepish frontman, Parker now makes for suitably laidback stage presence - though he does remain something of a timid and stretched live vocalist. But where he was once demure and apologetic, Parker now coasts the stage; orchestrating his band and fevered congregation simultaneously. Material left missing from the set is similarly telling of the band’s rapid ascent. An array of their finest material and fan favourites including - to name but a few - Solitude is Bliss, ‘Cause I’m a Man, Half Full Glass of Wine, Music to Walk Home By, Disciples and Lucidity find no place in a 16-song set that gives ample airing to each of the band’s records. But it’s striking how naturally Tame Impala’s meticulous, inward music translates to a huge venue. Soaked in reverb, fuzzy distortion and set to hypnotic big-screen colour, the band prove as engrossing to thousands as they do through headphones. ‘It Is Not Meant To Be’ glides, ‘Elephant’s behemothic stomp is received to rapturous reception, and ‘Feels Like We Only Go Backwards’ takes on new life as an arena-sized anthem. But Alexandra Palace is undeniably the showcase of a band at the peak of their formidable powers - and Parker, Tame Impala’s introverted architect, takes on a newfound swagger. You’d be hard-pressed to say it doesn’t suit him. 

Julia Holter - Live Review

Julia Holter, Engine Rooms, Southampton – posturing and pretentious, compelling and complex

****

Julia Holter’s uncompromising hybrid of classical, pop and jazz isn't exactly noted for its immediacy or accessibility – indeed, the LA-based CalArts graduate does little to dispel her reputation as an avant-garde academic. She introduces ‘Lucette Stranded on the Island’ as “a song about being cut adrift and alone on an island… imagine if you were alone on island?” in an icy, apathetic drawl, casting a cool gaze over Southampton’s Engine Rooms. A charming, intimate venue – where the occasional chink of bottles at the bar is as audible as the musicians on stage – there is slight bemusement at Holter’s existential musings. “Sucks to be you!” she adds dryly, and perhaps a little self-consciously. But ‘Lucette Stranded’, apparently based on a minor character in the Colette novella Chance Acquaintances, proves a lucid blur of spoken word, orchestral and choral; coasting, twisting and blossoming into the melancholic chorus: "Oh she's been marooned... can anybody help her?" Then the penultimate ‘Goddess Eyes’ somehow channels Kate Bush's Kid A, as does the 7-minute jazz-epic ‘Vasquez’. Make no mistake, this is pretty heavyweight stuff. But patience - as they say – is a virtue, and beneath Holter’s high-brow surface lies a seemingly supernatural force and gorgeous, potent melodies. Take ‘Silhouette’s daydream-turned-nightmare: underpinned by Devin Hoff’s dancing double-bass, it proves the perfect platform for Dina Maccabee’s ethereal yet tormented viola and Holter’s haunting refrain: "He turned to me then looked away / A silhouette / A silhouette... still returns to me." It's a genuinely gripping, powerful moment. Curtain call ‘Sea Calls Me Home’ and ‘Everytime Boots’ flaunt her skill for an infectious chorus, offset by the other-worldly ‘Vasquez’ and sorrowful ‘How Long?’. The bulk of the night’s set compromises songs from last year’s acclaimed Have You in My Wilderness, a record noted by critics for an accessibility and pop-sensibility missing from previous records; much like St. Vincent’s eponymous album released a year previously. But it proves a spellbinding set awash with enchanting vocals and beautiful melodies – and when all’s said and done, what could be more accessible than that?

Bloc Party - Live Review

Bloc Party review - the last wet fart of a rotting corpse

O2 Guildhall, Southampton – 30^th January 2015

Back after three years in the wilderness, the infamously fractious Bloc Party headline the NME Awards tour on supposed return to form. With latest album Hymns released a day previously, a new line-up and something of a return to the indie-dance of beloved early records A Weekend in the City and Intimacy, common logic dictates 2016 would breathe new life into the band after a lengthy hiatus. Founding members and mainstays Kele Okereke and Russell Lissack are joined by glossy new rhythm section Justine Harris and Louise Bartle on bass and drums respectively, and the band’s set list gives equal airing to the oft-maligned new material – half the set compromises songs from Hymns and 2012’s savaged, Nirvana-mimicking Four – and the heavyweights of yesteryear (Helicopter, Ratchet and This Modern Love). However, what pointed to a glorious comeback amounts to little more than Okereke’s tired secondary solo project; and seems like the latest low point for a band stuck in seemingly terminal decline. But perhaps most dishearteningly, a band that resonated so strongly with their young audience spend 70 minutes going through the motions with the same crowd nearly a decade later. A plodding, static set falls noticeably, uncomfortably flat - met by little but the occasional, seemingly obligatory mosh-pit. Then the band’s beloved 00s material recedes to little more than so much of the landfill-indie churned out the same decade, and Hymns’ (Virtue, The Good News and Different Drugs) both impressively and depressingly manages to sound dated a day after its release. Okereke makes admirable, but nonetheless fruitless, effort to psych and pump Bloc Party into life. But aside from Banquet and Ratchet’s lively curtain-call, it dies a sad death; and the punters filter out of the Guildhall like bored rats fleeing a moored ship.

Interview - Fun Lovin' Criminals

Fun Lovin’ Criminals’ Frank Benbini / ‘I’ll always play music, because it’s my way of beating the system in a crazy world.’

Ahead of the 20^th anniversary tour of 1996’s debut Come Find Yourself, proud Leicesterian and Fun Lovin’ Criminal “Uncle Frank” is in reflective mood

 

From left: Brian Leiser, Huey Morgan, Frank Benbini

“With the velocity of the Criminals over the years, its miracle of self-combustion! So it’s definitely a celebration. I’m looking forward to it.” Frank Benbini is feeling boyish. Looking ahead to the upcoming tour ‘An Evening With The Fun Lovin’ Criminals’, Uncle Frank has deemed it an appropriate time for a nostalgic look back at his career. Spanning over two decades, it’s one that started in the dingy backrooms of Nottingham’s Rock City; and taken him touring the globe with the Criminals. “It’s funny… it was there (Rock City) about 20 years ago when I bumped into this dude who goes by the name of Fast. I was chatting away with him, we hung out, and they all came down afterwards. And that was my introduction to Fast, and Huey and Steven… I was hanging with the Fun Lovin’ Criminals. And it kind of went from there, to spending the last 15 years on the road with now my band.”

The brash, swaggering style of their debut – an eclectic blend of hip-hop, rock, soul, blues and jazz – saw them dubbed the 90s’ answer to The Beastie Boys. Joining the band in 2003, Benbini’s suitably diverse taste and passion for music ensured a seamless transition. “There’s not a style between us we don’t like, but me and Huey have always had a great love for rock music. Fast loves dance, sampling and stuff, and we all have a massive love for hip-hop music. I’m a kid from the 80s, so we grew up as that scene blew up… it heavily influenced us.”

For the Criminals – affectionately dubbed ‘the cousins from New York’ - influence for their music comes from far beyond that of their favourite records, and Benbini is no different. “A lot of our stories and songwriting comes from living your life.” He explains. “We’re not one of these bands that reinvent ourselves every 18 months… we need to go away and live our lives a bit for something to talk about”.

As ‘The Big Apple’ proved a rich source of storytelling for Huey Morgan, the importance of growing up in Leicester proved just as vital for Uncle Frank. “Y’know I grew up…” he pauses for a moment. “I come from a broken family, grew up in council estates, and did a lot of wrong things as I was growing up… and it schooled me. Over the years I’ve had apartments in the States - New York’s my second home - I’m always there, got a second family there, take influences from there. But every race, colour, creed live in my town, and I grew up alongside all of them. A lot of my music has Leicester pulsing through it, for sure.”  That said, his hometown ties aren’t all so sentimental. “I still got a business where my boys run a barber shop, which is majority of the time… a legal barber shop.” He laughs.

But the business side of the industry hasn’t always been so kind to Benbini – he notes a previous lawsuit as his lowest moment in music (“When you first get in a band and start playing, it’s not something you think about… that can really hurt, and make you feel ill with the stress”), but otherwise looks back on a colourful career with pride. “The biggest high is the fact we’re still doing it - and I’m still doing. Y’know I judge success by doing something you love, and I still am – even though I’m 20% bitter and jaded, it’s the 80% that’s proud and very grateful.”

With the Criminals, it’s more satisfying still to look back on a career made on no terms but their own. “And that’s the thing with the Criminal’s records – very real.” Frank says. We don’t do what the record company tells us, we don’t do what management tells us, we just do what we want. You wanna get to the end of your career and you wanna mark these milestones, and we can put our hands up, whether it’s right or wrong - like Frank Sinatra - we done it our way. We did what we wanted to do.” But time is ever-precious for the band, with Huey now an acclaimed DJ for the BBC and Benbini himself juggling his many bands and side projects. For example, it’s been little over a year since the release of Purple Reggae: a unique Rastafarian take on the Prince classic, released under the alias Radio Riddler and featuring the likes of Ali Campbell and Sinead O’Connor. It’s a project Benbini is evidently proud of: “Anybody that knows anything about Frank knows that I’m the biggest Prince fan of all time – that’s no joke - but anyone who knows anything about music knows Prince’s music is not the easiest to replicate. But it was really fun making, and y’know…. people have still got a lot of love for it” But with the Fun Lovin’ Criminals’ last album Classic Fantastic released in 2010, conversation turns to what’s next for both Frank and the band. Uncle Frank acknowledges another Criminals album may well be due. “It could be about time to put another gem down into the system, and work with a lot of friends and see what we can do.” He explains, pausing for a moment. “But I’ll always play music, because it’s my way of beating the system in a crazy world.” 

Fun Lovin' Criminals - 'Scooby Snacks'

Albert Hammond Jr. - Live Review, Wedgewood Rooms

Albert Hammond Jr - A blistering 90 minutes of stylish garage rock

****

The Wedgewood Rooms, Portsmouth

                                       Photo by Charlie Makemson

As per the now-almost blueprint of “going solo”, it’s difficult separating Albert Hammond Jr. from his revered, fascinating past as The Strokes lead guitarist. It’s similarly difficult making this distinction between the music; much of his set tonight, compromised from all three studio albums and sole EP, is extremely evocative of his iconic New York indie outfit. From the stylish, distinctive guitar tones, frantic rhythms or stop-start dynamics, Hammond’s set makes for very familiar territory.

Indeed, you can hear much of The Strokes’s catalogue across the show; Born Slippy’s stalking, heavy groove is particularly reminiscent of Angles’ Machu Pichu, and ‘Rude Customer’s chugging rhythms and scatty guitar leads could of come came straight from the band’s second record Room on Fire. Despite a lengthy set barren of any Strokes material, it’s perhaps testament to Hammond’s importance to the band that their sound should feel so prominent here.

That said, to write off Hammond Jr. as a mere Strokes by-numbers would be at best extremely unfair, and at worst flat-out ignorant; his 90 minute performance stands on its own merit as a blistering set of finely-crafted garage rock. An exceptionally tight live act, the band play the set with quick-fire precision, keeping stage banter to a minimal (“The album was released 2 months ago…” guitarist Hammarsing Kharmar gestures four fingers at him. “Four!?” Hammond replies incredulously. “Four months… where did that time go. Mother Time… you old slut.”), and flying through an extensive set with breathless energy.

The wonderful, inexplicably nostalgic ‘In Transit’ is played to utterly rapturous reception, humorously offset by a drunken punter yelling the song’s title back at him. Then a storming ‘Touché’ followed by an equally breakneck ‘Carnal Cruise’ prove to be the show’s ferocious highlights. Suitably, Hammond’s band make for energetic stage presence; none more so than the haywire Hammond himself, and at odds with The Strokes’s often-static live performances. Clutching his face in his hands and swinging his guitar behind his back, Hammond Jr becomes increasingly wide-eyed and unpredictable as the show progresses. While he occasionally strays into maniacal delivery echoing that of his Strokes frontman Julian Casablancas, he nonetheless proves a captivating frontman of surprising showmanship. That’s not to say it is not all so raucous. Given the quick-fire nature of the set, it may be easy to overlook the fine balance it strikes between its predominant, punchy immediacy and the band’s more restrained, rhythmic tendencies.

What’s perhaps most impressive of all is the effortlessness with which Hammond and his band, all of whom seemingly formidable with their instruments, pull the whole thing off. It makes for an effortlessly slick, stylish and above-all superb 90 minutes.  

Foals: What Went Down Review

Foals: What Went Down – Holy Fire’s sometime brilliant but frequently frustrating big brother

***

 After 2013’s Holy Fire elevated Foals into the alternative big leagues, the band return with What Went Down; their self-proclaimed biggest, most muscular record yet. Curtain raiser and the titular What Went Down sets the tone; taking the brutal baton begun with Prelude, passed to Inhaler and subsequently Providence, it’s the final, ferocious 100m sprint to Foal’s finish line.

The band’s reach for the arenas continues with the Radioheadesque Mountain At My Gates, and guitar leads on Birch Tree unshakeably evocative of By The Way-era Red Hot Chillis. Blending their new, riff-heavy edge (Snake Oil) with their signature oriental guitar textures (Birch Tree, Night Swimmers),What Went Down delivers some genuinely brilliant moments; with Night Swimmers, Albatross and the eponymous What Went Down proving genuinely thrilling, captivating highlights as good as anything in the band’s previous repertoire. It sounds bigger, grander, almost cinematic - and the sound of a band oozing confidence. So it’s then strange that What Went Down should prove such a frustrating, unbalanced listen.

Increasingly bloated as it progresses, and too often settling into drawn out, dead-end melodies, it lacks the dynamism and excitement that made Holy Fire (think Prelude, Providence) such a compelling record. Yannis Philippakis’s wild vocals give the album drama and passion to match its elaborate, blockbuster melodies; but fail to give gravitas and weight to weak, melodramatic lyrics (‘When I come to walk the line, the fire may come, but we'll be just fine’).

Ultimately, What Went Down sounds like a band brimming with confidence and urgency, but what is sometimes brilliant is more frequently indulgent, pretentious and bloated - sonically and in length. An album that should be captivating instead sounds predictable and frustrating, leaving the band's swagger feeling uncomfortably misplaced and its audience wondering what might, or should, have been.

Interview: Eoin Loveless (Drenge)

You might not assume it from his ferocious, subtly deadpan music, but Drenge’s Eoin Loveless is a nice, cool guy in a nicer, cooler yellow coat. I spoke to him prior to the band’s Southampton Guildhall show, and discussed Undertow, irony, Corbyn and Kanye.

Drenge: Brothers Eoin (r) and Rory (l)

‘Corbyn’s a fan of us??’ Loveless asks incredulously, a rare break from his otherwise laid-back to-the-point of horizontal demeanour. Deceptively tall, stylishly unkept and dressed in Dr. Martens and a battered yellow parka, he settles back into his chilled auto-pilot when I correct him – Tom Watson, MP for West Bromwich East, newly appointed Deputy Leader of the Labour party and Drenge’s first Directioner, no less.

‘I’m sure Corbyn’s got some more… folky tastes. Billy Bragg.’ Loveless is evidently pleased that one of the band’s first fans has sealed his comeback. ‘Anyone in the Drenge army that’s like Deputy leader of the second biggest party in the UK is good with me. He’s a great guy – never met him - but I’m really into what he’s done, and what he believes in, and what he stands for. Great politician.’ He says, wryly. This dry sense of humour makes for ironic, amusing company in our time together, shut away in a dingy, dusty spare room in the Guildhall. It’s this same ironic, subtle sense of humour is one he feels has possibly gone over his audience’s heads. 
‘I feel like a lot of stuff can get lost on our audience… just feel like we can bury too deeply in what we’re doing.’ He laments. ‘The first record is quite a violent record, and there’s always a tongue in cheek thing going on… like I was DJing last night, and someone came up to me and they were like “oh let’s dance, let’s have some drinks” and then they started hitting me, like “come on, dance, be fun, be cool” but that’s just not who I am… and this person just had a completely different view of who I was, because they’d taken my music at face value.’ It’s a fascinating insight into the relationship between musicians and their fans, and the subtleties that so easily go awry in their music.

This April saw the release of the band’s second album Undertow, breaking out of the grunge pigeon-hole and delivering a more expansive, intricate record. But was this shift from nihilism to something bigger a concious change?

‘No... it was more like an unconscious change. Like it was a deliberate decision to make something different… it just came from a confidence in our ability to play our instruments and to write songs.’ Undertow was also Drenge’s attempt to create something cinematic – Loveless notes 2001’s A Space Odyssey as the record’s primary influence – and to emulate their gloriously chaotic live show in the studio. It’s something Loveless feels the band couldn’t quite achieve. ‘I don’t think it’s a true representation of what we’re like live… I think about this stuff way too much - the modern style of recording is the perfect recorded version of the song, rather than the artistic take of the band playing that song.’

If Eoin considers himself an obsessive perfectionist, he found himself in like-minded company on a September episode of Later… with Jools Holland – none other than the Greatest Living Rockstar On The Planet himself, Kanye West. 
‘It’s one of the best constructed like faces in the music industry. He understands that like there needs to be a bad boy in like pop music, someone who everyone hates or loves, or loves to hate, and so he just loves being that guy and he knows exactly the right time, to say exactly the wrong thing. He loves winding people up…’ Eoin explains, before taking an unexpected, intriguing turn. ‘And when we talked to him, he was such a nice guy! He seemed really grounded, he seemed to really understand himself and his art, and what he wants to do… but like at the same time, you’re just dealing with someone who is just like more of a celebrity…  probably the most well-known celebrity with the biggest artistic credibility to match. I feel like he makes great records, and it was nice meeting him.’

Drenge’s own savage brand of garage rock has drawn inevitable Nirvana comparisons – ‘Doesn’t help that we named our band “Drenge”’ is Loveless’ predictably deadpan response (Going on the ‘lost-on-the-audience’ narrative, Drenge is a Danish word meaning ‘boys’). ‘It’s just like a modern trait of music journalism… like when I used to write for music magazines and stuff, I’ve done the same connection.’ But ultimately it’s a connection that doesn’t bother Eoin. ‘Most people just wanna listen to some tunes. That bit isn’t so important.’ his fittingly succinct summary – besides, there are worse bands to be compared to.

James Gale

Listen: Drenge 'Nothing'

Below is a complete transcript of the interview itself - lots of stuff I couldn't fit in and was a massive pain in the anus to write up, so may as well make some use of it.

Your first album was a pretty murky, nihilistic record, where undertow sounds bigger, and more free-wheeling.  Would you say that was a conscious change?

Uhhh... no. It was more like an unconscious change. Like it wasn’t a deliberate decision to... I mean it was a deliberate decision to make something different, but we weren’t like, ‘you know what we need, we need to sound more free, or whatever. So no, it just came from like I guess like a confidence in our ability to play our instruments and to write songs… yeah.

Similarly, Undertow sounds more intricate, more emphasis on rhythm than riffs - would it be fair to say that's due to having Rob on bass this time round, or just the way the bands evolved?

Uhhm... uhhh… a bit of both.. uhhhh I mean like Rob played on a couple of tracks. There was a lot of stuff that we kind accumulated through touring, and spoke about for 4 months writing the rest of the album, recording everything, yeah... and Rob’s just had his part to play in it, he comes from that like rockier side of music. He always plays Black Sabbath whenever we’re in the van, so yeah I dunno, yeah. Bit of both.

You've said in interviews before that there's a humour and irony to Undertow - do you feel it's been lost on your audience?

(interview with DIY mag in april this year)

Sometimes... I feel like a lot of stuff can get lost on our audience because, not that me and Rory are operating on a higher level, just feel like we can bury too deeply in what we’re doing. Some of the first record is quiet a violent record, and there’s always like a tongue in cheek thing going on. Like I was DJing last night, and I’ve never DJed before, was DJing in a club, someone came up to me and they were like ‘ohh lets dance, lets like have some drinks together,’ and then they got like really, started like hitting me and stuff and like ‘come on, you need to like dance and be fun and be cool’ but that’s just not who I am, and this person just had like a completely different view of who I was, because they’d taken my music at face value. this is someone that’s like, you know, taking the piss, or is like… it’s a bit like we were listening to Father John Misty in the van, and like I really love his work, his music and his songs and stuff, but I only love it because I like buy into a character – similarly with like Lana Del Ray, like if you take those artists at face value you’d be like, you’d be like ‘oohh god, what is this?’ I guess there’s some knowing.. I guess were like not as cool as those people (laughs)

What were the album’s biggest influences - and did they differ from those of the first album?

Uhhhmm.. biggest influence.. I guess, there was one night where um there’s a really great cinema in Sheffield, called ‘The Showroom’ that shows like a lot of like art house stuff, and they put on a screening of ‘2001 A Space Odyssey’, and um I mean its so.. I’ve seen that film before a couple of times, but to experience like a film just that like that good in a cinema, with sound, and big screen, and like all the colours, and there’s a bit in the middle where there’s an interlude, and people went up to the toilet and stuff, but like by the time they came back the interlude had finished, because there’s like a bit of classical music in-between, and people thought it’s a two minute break, I can go to the loo, but um but like that experience, like a really full, immersion into the cinematic experience, was kind of like what we wanted to kind of create for a listener I guess, kind of like the visuals play out in your head.

Me: I get what you mean, like the soundtrack to however you perceive it, literally or ironically or whatever. I mean I know you said before you wanted to emulate your live experience, live show, like create not an experience, more than a compilation of songs.

I guess so... yeah I mean like um I don’t think we achieved it on this record. I don’t think it’s a true representation of what we’re like when we’re live. It’s very difficult to do that because when you’re live you make mistakes and stuff, and those just the modern kind of attitude to recording, especially in, I dunno.. it’s really like.. I think about this stuff way too much.. the modern style of recording is perfect recorded version of the song.. rather than artistic take of the band playing that song. But I mean like there’s exceptions and stuff, but just the technology we have to record these days means you can just fine tune every bit, you miss that snare fill there, you can go back and you can do that, and you just make a very clean sounding record just because you feel insecure about those mistakes. Whereas there are times when like I’ve like seen videos of us on YouTube, that people have recorded on their phones, and it sounds ferocious, it sounds so incredible, but no one would know, studio engineer, or anyone, would be able to like record what that sounds like.

Me: I saw you at Bestival, about, week ago now? And I saw you at Reading, 2014, with the dresses, and that is when I admittedly became a bit of a fanboy, like it was that savage-

E: That was a brutal show-

Me: Yeah! Everyone fell over each other at one point, just this a complete crush, we literally came out of it like ‘wow’, and it was that kind of raw, savage sound what really like blew us away. And I think it translates better on your albums than it does on others.

E: I think the main reason for that we worked with Ross (Orton) on both of our albums, who’s just exceptional at recording drum sounds, and drum takes, and getting the best out of a drummer. He like really pushed Rory on both records to like basically the point of collapse on every single song, just like... ‘again’.

Me: helps that Rory’s like such a fucking good drummer.

E: yeah, yeah… but like Rory, it was like Whiplash or something, it was fucking tough. But like full credit to Ross and Rory for both like sticking with it, like the drum sounds and the performances, there isn’t a track where you’re like ‘do you know what.. that’s Rory playing bad there’ I feel like.. I dunno. I’m hugely indebted to both Rory and Ross for their contribution to the record.

What do you make of the Nirvana comparisons? Personally I can hear it - quiet/loud/quiet dynamics, watery effects pedals, nihilistic lyrics - but do you find that pleasing or irritating?

E: it’s just like a modern trait of music journalism. Um… and yeah. I don’t care-

Me: I mean there’s worse people to be compared to.

E: yeah, yeah totally, like uh someone recently compared us to Talking Heads, they came up to us after a show like ‘I really like that TH style song’, and I was lucky that I was like in the zone to work out which particular track they meant (Which did they mean? – E: They meant The Snake’), but it doesn’t sound like a TH song, but musically, it’s like a really I dunno like I understood what they meant, it was like hmm… a more of a technical compliment than a stylistic one. I dunno – technically it really reminded him of a TH song, instead of sonically.

Me: I guess there’s more substance to it than just distortion and shouting.

E: yeah, I’d hope so, like it doesn’t help that we named our band ‘Drenge’, like when we named our band we never thought ‘oh, it sounds like ‘grunge’ – Drenge, grunge, admittedly sound similar, again, journalistic tendencies would make that connection because that’s the way – like when I used to write for music magazines and stuff, I’ve done the same connection, but it’s just not what we were thinking about, and I remember those first comparisons coming in, and we were just going like ‘what?’

Me: kind of a shame really, because it’s quite clever, Drenge = brothers, the whole Danish thing, I guess it goes over people’s heads a little bit.

E: I guess that’s what we were talking about at the start of the interview, where like that like, we weren’t thinking about grunge, we thought it sounded like a weird name, but most importantly it was a Danish word and a lot of people don’t know that. If you really wanna like, buy into our band, and understand all the fucking mythology behind it that’s all there, but most people just wanna listen to some tunes. That bit isn’t so important.

Growing up in Castleton, do you think growing up somewhere so quiet and isolated influenced your music in anyway?

Uh yeah – but not like, I wouldn’t of dared admit it at the time. It was more like when we started touring, and um stuff... I think Backwaters off the first record is like the song that’s about that… there aren’t any other songs from that record that like come from the countryside.

What’s your favourite city or venue to play in the UK?

Um… (pause) well we played Sheffield (The Plug) last night, and that was kind of nice..  and cause we live there now, and um, and that was like a great crowd and stuff, and tomorrow we’re playing in Manchester we’re playing at the Albert Hall, so.. yeah.

Me: I can imagine Manc crowds being quite… ‘enthusiastic’, as well.

E: yeah… and we just haven’t played there at all for like, like our own headline show there in like, like we done a few supporting, but not like a proper Drenge gig for like 2 years, which we always feel really guilty about. And then like, this Wolf Alice tour, the Manchester …

You’ve got upcoming dates in America - how do you think UK and US audiences compare?

Um… this US tour will be different because I think we’re playing all ages venues – previously we only played +21 venues, which is... depressing, and upsetting... and like they’re great shows, and people have come to shows who are like really supportive and stuff, but its uh frustrating when, cause like up to 10 years of generations that are like missing out on the show, and uhm… yeah. America’s fucked in that respect.

On America, how was your Lettermen debut in January? I imagine it was a pretty bizarre experience

Yeah, it was weird, and it was fun, and the thing that like having seen it afterwards, I remember doing it, and I remember being on stage and playing, but its… but because the camera angles there and because the thing’s behind me and then David Letterman comes and shakes my hand, it’s like some…  cause like live musical TV programmes like Jools or the KEXP sessions and stuff and Letterman’s another one where I’ve watched bands that I like go on David Letterman, like Los Campesinos and The Eagles um, and I watched their performances and David Letterman comes out at the end and shakes their hand – and there I am doing the same, like there’s us, he’s shaking our hand, and there’s like the Washington Bridge, and all this stuff.

Me: was it weird when he says “DaRbeeshyire”?

E: I wasn’t really thinking at the time... I was just like we need to play the song good, because I think we had played that song like live like in front of people like two times before... in fact that might have been the first airing of it... but yeah, I was just concentrating more on trying to get it done, get the performance done.

I read somewhere that you met Kanye when you played Lettermen – is that true? and how does real life Kanye compare to world’s greatest rock star Kanye?

E: Yeah, but Kanye was on the same episode as us on Jools.

And how does real-life Kanye compare to world’s greatest rock star Kanye?

Well it’s just like... it’s one of the best constructed like faces in the music industry. He understands that like there needs to be a bad boy in like pop music, someone who everyone hates or loves, or loves to hate, and so he just loves being that guy and he knows exactly the right time, to say exactly the wrong thing. He loves winding people up, and when we talked to him, he was such a nice guy, he seemed really grounded, he seemed to really understand himself and his art, and what he wants to do – but like at the same time, you’re just dealing with someone who is just like more of a celebrity than any... like he’s like…

Me: He’s famous for Kim as much as he’s famous for his records.

E: yeah! And you’re like looking at this huge celebrity… probably the most well-known celebrity with the biggest artistic credibility to match... I feel like he makes great records, and it was nice meeting him.

Me: Have you seen videos of YouTube of him laughing and smiling, notice the camera’s on him, and just like stop and (pose) and, like literally breaks character, and there’s this like 2 minute compilation of him smiling and stopping. I think he’s great.

E: yeah, he’s fantastic. I just wanna hear more music from him, and like I wasn’t massively into that 45seconds song when it came out, and it was on in a bar the other day, and I was like… it just sounds like a classic song, in a way there hasn’t been a classic song in like 5 years, like a big Rihanna or Beyoncé song from like 10 years ago or something.

What do you make of West Bromwich MP and your first Beleiber Tom Watson’s (Ohh yeah!) return to the limelight? Are you happy for him?

Yeah!

Are you quietly responsible?

No no no, anyone in the Drenge army that’s like, you know, Deputy leader of the second biggest political party in the UK y’know, is good with me, um, yeah!

Me: He’s made his comeback.

(Dryly) Yeah! He’s a great guy – never met him- but I’m really into what he’s done, like, and what he believes in and what he stands for. Great politician.

Me: Corbyn’s a fan, so he can’t be that bad.

E: Corbyn’s a fan of us??

Me: No! no, Tom Watson. But it wouldn’t surprise me if Corbyn was a Drenge fan.

E: Oh no… I’m sure Corbyn’s got some more, more…

Me: Folky?

E: yeah…

Me: Seems like a folk and red wine kinda guy

E: yeah, Billy Bragg.

Finally, when Undertow's all wrapped up, what's next for Drenge? Any news of a third album?

E: another album! (laughs)

Me: any new songs, or like is take as it comes kinda thing?

E: sort of, sort of.. um, I’m trying to make it take shape in my head… I kinda got ideas that are starting to like work… but yeah, no new songs just yet. But its new music!