Thanks for joining us today… Tell us bit about where you are from and how you got into music?
Dave Mackinnon: We’re from South London and Dartford. We got into music because none of us were athletic, and crime looked like too much admin.
A lot of our songs come from overheard conversations, local characters, and the sort of pubs where there’s genuinely more people than teeth.
What’s the live music scene like in Dartford/South London right now?
DM: Still alive somehow, despite developers trying their best.
There are loads of good grassroots nights run by people who deserve medals and probably treatment for sleep deprivation. You’ve got bands carrying gear around on trains, promoters surviving entirely on optimism, and venues held together by duct tape and Stella fumes. Exactly how it should be, really.
Anyone we should be looking out for (bar you, of course)?
DM: There’s loads, we’ve played with some brilliant people recently.
Superdays are doing great things.
The Rizz are fantastic live.
Herman’s Military Antiques and French Toast are definitely worth checking out, too.
There’s a healthy scene of people making really honest music at the moment, which is encouraging.
Do you think it’s easy to become a victim of your surroundings sometimes?
DM: Definitely. Your surroundings shape you, whether you realise it or not.
If you spend enough time around pubs, football grounds and questionable local philosophers, eventually you either become a songwriter or get banned from a Wetherspoons.
A lot of our songs are about people stuck in cycles – relationships, jobs, old grudges, and nostalgia. Britain seems quite good at trapping people emotionally while still making them go to work the next morning.
What are your ambitions for the band?
DM: To release records we’re proud of, play bigger shows, and maybe one day earn enough money to replace Jaydan’s bass case that’s currently held together by hope.
We’d love the album to find its audience naturally and build a proper cult following. We’re not really chasing what’s fashionable. We’d rather still be playing to oddballs in ten years than become four blokes desperately trying to understand algorithms.
Essex Moorcroft: Trio! Triiiioo! I want a Trio, and I want one now. We’re all big fans of Trios, so hopefully they bring them back.
What’s your favourite social media platform to use and why?
DM: That should really be: “Which social media platform do you hate the least?” Probably Instagram because it still feels the least like a public complaints department. Facebook now mainly seems to be people arguing about bins and suspicious-looking vans.
We believe it’s essential to have a presence on Facebook, Instagram and X to introduce yourself to all the different audiences out there, what’s your thoughts on that?
DM: Unfortunately, yes. Being in a band now means spending half your life making videos where you pretend you weren’t already holding your phone before pressing record. You can write the best song in the world, but apparently, you also need to film yourself eating your dinner with a caption saying “my Gen Z cousin told me to post this for more streams.”
What’s your view on the music industry today?
EM: As with most industries, about 9 people are being made unimaginably, inhumanely wealthy, while everyone else is supposed to be grateful for a lift home sometimes.
DM: There’s still amazing music everywhere, but artists are expected to do absolutely everything themselves now — write, record, film content, edit videos, promote, design artwork, run ads, answer emails, carry amps and somehow still remain “mysterious”, despite posting three videos a day from their kitchen.The good side is that there are no gatekeepers stopping strange bands from existing anymore. The bad side is you now have to become part musician, part influencer, part bloke staring into the middle distance at 2 am, wondering why the algorithm hates you.
What’s your thoughts on AI-generated music?
EM: another way for the tech oligarchs to filter out genuine human connection
What’s the biggest thing you have learned recently as you progress with your music?
DM: That there are probably hundreds of amazing bands nobody ever hears because making music now can feel like trying to fund a small business while carrying a bass drum up a staircase.
What’s currently in your ears and on rotation at the moment?
DM: I’ve been listening to a lot of Angine de Poitrien and Glass Beams.
EM: 656 by Roc Marciano and Alfredo 2 by Freddie Gibbs
I hear you have new music. What can you tell us about it?
DM: We’ve got a new single called Father of the Chapel coming out, taken from our debut album, More People Than Teeth.
It’s a story about loyalty, betrayal and the sort of grudges people carry for decades without ever properly talking about. It’s our most ambitious song to date in terms of structure and arrangement.
Starts fairly restrained, then gradually spirals into a big, dramatic outro with strings and female harmonies, a bit like an argument in a pub getting increasingly out of hand.
What was the recording process like?
DM: We recorded to tape at Gizzard Recording Studio because we wanted it to sound alive rather than clinically perfect.
There are a few imperfections and accidental noises, all the things that make records feel human.
Would you change anything now it’s finished?
DM: Nope. It’s a banger.
Is there anything else you would like to share with the world?
DM: Support small venues. Go see bands before they become expensive. Buy merch even if it’s ugly.
And if you see a suspicious-looking acoustic band with a violin playing songs about dodgy British characters, come say hello.
EM: “And I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point: ‘If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.’”
-Kurt Vonnegut
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