A record that demands to be listened to
Los Campesinos! front man Gareth Paisey on the U.K. election, emo’s lack of women, The 1975, and his band’s forthcoming album “All Hell”
Holly is sitting on the bed laughing and there are streaks of blood smeared across her face. We were kissing only a few seconds ago; our teen bodies entwined on top of the covers, her hands in my hair, my hands under her t-shirt. Her parents are out at work and I don’t know when they’ll be back. Not that it matters. I just got a nosebleed.
Holly noticed before I did.
“Oh my god what is that?” she asked.
She pushed me off and ran to the bathroom.
The area above her lip was slathered vibrant vermillion; as if I had dipped my nose in acrylic paint. In our passion, it splatted onto the duvet and the Red Hot Chili Peppers t-shirt I had been fumbling around in moments before.
I had bought the shirt at their Stadium Arcadium tour and Holly had stolen it a few weeks later. I let her keep it because I was desperate to impress her, to find anything that might tether us to each other.
She returns and hands me a thick wad of toilet paper.
In a town that stretches roughly six kilometers in any direction, we have somehow managed to enter a long-distance relationship. We lead mostly separate lives. Separate schools. Separate friends. Separate identities.
A few times, we’ve watched MTV and made out on her parent’s couch. Mostly, though, we stay up late writing each other letters on nascent social media sites.
I love her with every fiber of my being. She probably likes me a medium amount.
I’m not quite willing to accept this imbalance, which is why I was okay trudging across our frozen city to see her. As I walked, prairie winds pierced the thin denim of my Levi 511s and sent flurries scattering across the endlessly grey sky. I arrived, her house frozen from the waist down.
(When God closes a window, she opens a metaphor…)
I hoped wondered whether something might happen between us today. I’m sixteen and scared of sex but trying not to show it. Sometimes, I think she can smell it on me, like some terrible deodorant. Aqua Velva for virgins, Axe body spray for the untouched boy.
But no!!! I tell myself she cannot smell my insecurity. And so I tread across the snow and ice in my black Chuck Taylors. I show up at her door with a lusty look in my eye and love in my swollen heart — and leave a short while later with a bruised ego and toilet paper in my nose.
***
In a few years, I will play Los Campesinos! Romance Is Boring on repeat while working as a delivery driver and it will offer a solace I didn’t know I needed, making me a true believer. I will learn to see humor in heartbreak and catharsis in calamity. Eventually, I’ll chat with frontman Gareth Paisey about LC’s long-awaited new album (out July 19), his reluctance to label himself a writer, the U.K.’s upcoming election, what happens when we die, and more.
For now, though, I sit and stare at snow drifts from the climate-controlled comfort of my mom’s SUV, avoiding my own embarrassment and trying to forget the blood-stained t-shirt scrunched hastily in my lap.
GP: Where are you?
ES: Vancouver. Where are you?
GP: I’m in Midsomer Norton, U.K., which is near Bath. Though, I suppose the nearest major city is Bristol.
ES: I’ve never heard of Midsomer Norton. How many pubs have you got?
GP: They have a handful, but I don’t really ever go to them because I know everybody here. This is where I was born and I lived here until I was 18. I went to Cardiff for six or seven years and I moved back after university, so it feels like I know everyone. I like lots of people, but I would sooner just go to the pub and not know anyone. Either go with mates — which is ideal — or go on my own so I can just read or listen to music. I’ll usually go to Bath for that reason. It’s a lovely place to live, at least in your late 30s. As a teenager, it’s kind of boring.
ES: How long does it take you to get to Bath to do some solo reading?
GP: Bath is about a 40-minute bus journey, which is… fine? Bristol is an hour. Until six weeks ago, the last bus from Bristol had always been at 9:30 p.m. But now it runs until midnight, which is a game-changer. It’s been a real revelation. For most concerts, I would hope that it was the opener that I wanted to see, rather than the headliner because I’d need to leave early or pay out for a taxi. But now it’s all changed.
ES: It’s a bit of a low-hanging fruit, but I did want to ask you about the U.K. Prime Minister calling a snap election standing in the rain. It felt quite emo.
GP: Are you aware of why he wasn’t using an umbrella?
ES: No — I’d love if you could explain it to me.
GP: I think the root of it is that, in 2007, England were knocked out of the qualifying stage of an international soccer tournament. They lost 3–2 to Croatia in the U.K. During the game, it was pissing down rain, and Steve McClaren, the manager at the time, stood on the touchline with an umbrella. And all the headlines the next day were basically “Wally with a brolly”. They were mocking him for doing what was surely the sensible thing and using an umbrella. Supposedly there was something very un-English about that. He should have just stood there and allowed himself to be drenched. I’m fairly certain that attitude has permeated the English condition and is the reason why Rishi Sunak didn’t use an umbrella.
ES: Fascinating!
GP: I think many of us are finding it hard to be excited about the election, though. It will be fantastic for the Conservatives to lose government and I’ll take a lot of pleasure from some awful Tories losing their jobs and having to perhaps have a moment of self-reflection — if they’re capable of that. You can take pleasure from the unhappiness that will be inflicted upon awful people, but it’s hard to be excited about the next Labour government because they’re a right-wing Labour government. They hold most of the same values and policies as the current Conservative government. Maybe it will be easier to influence them. There are some good socialist MPs that will hopefully apply pressure from within the Labour Party but it’s not the celebration that I or anyone else would like it to be.
ES: I know nobody really cares about Brexit anymore but did Brexit change anything for you as a band?
GP: It’s not changed very much for us. I think it has made things more difficult for bands that tour mainland Europe a lot. It’s gotten more expensive. The logistics and the organization around it are much more complex than they used to be. But we don’t do well in mainland Europe. Laughs. We haven’t played there since 2014 or so…
The main thing that has impacted LC! and the frequency with which we do things as a band is the economic realities. We need to work jobs alongside being in the band, but that’s not Brexit-related. I read a couple of your other interviews, like the one with Cloud Nothings, who are in similar positions. They make money from being in a band, but it’s not enough to be the only thing. We’re all in our late 30s. Some of us have kids, or other good occupations and creative outlets that they make money a living from.
I think the longer you go without making a record, the harder it is to sort of get going. Not even from a creative perspective, necessarily, but in terms of committing to the project. Because we’re all close and we’re all in each other’s lives, as mates, and as family. There’s no danger of us drifting apart. We got around to recording last year and it went so well and we enjoyed it. Hopefully, it incentivizes us to take a shorter break between the next album.
ES: Did you have to go *album mode* this time around? Or have you been writing music the entire seven years you’ve been away?
GP: Tom is always in that mode because he’s a musician. He writes music and he’s a producer. That’s what he does. For me personally, I hadn’t written a lyric since the last album. I don’t view myself as a musician, as an artist, as a writer. When I think about what I do within the band, I think more about the logistical side. I’m the only full-time person with the band. I run every element of it — and being a seven-piece band with a large back catalog and selling a lot of merch, it’s necessary. But I hadn’t written.
My motivation for writing our first album was that we had mates who were in bands that were bad, and we were jealous that they would get into play shows and we knew we could do it better. So we did. Since then, though, my motivation has always been “Shit, I need to write some songs.” I always leave it till the last minute. My motivator is pressure and stress. But All Hell is one of the less stressful experiences I’ve had. I enjoyed the process of writing. I still left everything till the last minute, but it was always enjoyable. I felt like I was working with the process rather than against it.
ES: As a fan, I’ve always gotten this impression that you’re quite a literary cat. I’m surprised to hear it’s the opposite.
GP: Maybe I’ve encountered too many bad writers and want to sort of distance myself from that. I find that sort of “starving artist mindset” a bit corny. I could very easily imagine myself falling into that under different circumstances, so maybe I actively try to avoid it. But no, I’m not the artist type at all. I’m a man of simple pleasures.
I believe that when you die, you’re dead. You’re soil. But I feel very low stakes about it.
ES: It’s funny, I was so embarrassed at the idea of calling myself a writer. But then I started doing journalism and over time I was like… Just call yourself a “writer and journalist” as if it somehow makes it more legitimate, or less cringe.
GP: You’re right. Sections of writer and journalist are, to some extent, describing the same thing. And yet one is a job and one is a hobby. Or at least that’s the viewpoint.
ES: 100%. One is a profession and another is a Twitter user. But okay, given you’ve encountered a lot of bad writers, I’d love to know who is a good writer in your mind. Is there any writing that’s blown you away recently — or ever?
GP: In terms of lyricists, or writers within music, it’s hard to imagine someone better than David Berman from Silver Jews. That’s top-tier and something I’ve come to appreciate more as I get older.
I don’t necessarily like him as a person, but I enjoy Nick Cave’s writing. I don’t agree with him on a lot of things anymore, but I think he’s pretty untouchable as a lyricist.
I think there’s a part of me that sort of resists even thinking in those terms, such is my disdain for the idea that I might think I am a writer myself. I tend not to try to think of anyone in that sort of framing, which I don’t think is healthy. It doesn’t impact my enjoyment of other people’s art and writing. I was saying to somebody yesterday that I identify as a music fan. The biggest buzz is when people in bands I like say they like Los Campesinos! That’s what excites me. A lot of the time it will be bands that, in terms of quantifiable metrics, are less successful or less well-known than our band. But any musician I like saying “Oh, no, I really like Los Campesinos!” has me going “Fuck yeah, brilliant, I feel good about myself.”
ES: You’re basically the face of LC, but I did want to talk about your bandmates and the fact that, for as long as the band has existed, it’s had a female presence. I think the co-ed approach distinguishes your band from so many others, and I wonder why it is important for LC to approach things that way.
GP: It’s always been important because, be it the British guitar music scene that we came up through in the late 2000s, or the emo sphere that we occupy now, neither is typically welcoming to women. Coming up, we were anomalous in that we were a mixed-gender band. It was never a deliberate thing, but if I’m being honest, I find it more unusual that there are still so few mixed-gender bands. In every other thing you do in life, any other workspace you’re in, very seldom is it going to be all dudes.
ES: Unless you’re talking about the football pitch or something.
GP: And even that’s improving. To us, it was always totally natural. We had mates and some mates were male, some were female, and we all liked music and we came together to do it. Over time, we went from being four guys and three girls to now six guys and one girl. We’re the best band we’ve ever been, we’ve never been happier, we’re getting on the best we ever have. But even then, it’s a shame that there isn’t more female representation within our band, and certainly within the scene.
For over ten years now we’ve said we won’t play with bands that are all dudes. We only play with bands that have non-male representation within them. We know that our audience is pretty 50/50 in terms of gender split. We have a huge number of trans and non-binary fans, and we want them to come to watch us play and see themselves on the stage. We want them to feel represented, to feel like “Shit, that could be me up there.”
In every other thing you do in life, any other workspace you’re in, very seldom is it going to be all dudes.
ES: If we think about songs as stories, which is an obnoxious and writer-y thing to say, I’ve always thought that having female members in the band allowed you to present two sides of a narrative. It made things seem more nuanced.
GP: I appreciate that. I don’t object to the idea that songs are stories. I would never probably say it myself, but I don’t disagree. When we were doing Romance Is Boring, I would write prose and then turn that into songs. I don’t do it like that anymore. I probably just forgot that that approach was useful to me and haven’t done it since. But that was a useful narrative thing within songs.
When I’m singing songs about a relationship or breakup or something like that I’ve pretty much always presented myself as the dickhead. I can’t think of many LC songs where I’m attributing blame to the other person. I’m pretty much always turning the mirror on myself and scrutinizing my behaviors. Taking the piss out of myself. In moments where it perhaps does begin to go the other way. I will present something in song to embarrass myself. That’s a way that I’ve always felt comfortable writing. I’m a big fan of humor in songs. I think that’s something that we do, and I think it’s something that many bands don’t consider.
ES: Speaking of dickheads and humor and music, what do you think about The 1975?
GP: I think there’s a lot of bullshit around the band, which makes it more difficult for somebody like myself to enjoy them. I like the concept of it, and some of the lyrics are brilliant, but I don’t like all of the edgelord bullshit. We’ve all said dumb things before, but that was in our early 20s… I think even their fan base acknowledges that he says a lot of a lot of mad shit and does a lot of, inadvisable things.
I’m not into beefing with anyone these days. I’m glad they’re a band. They’ve got some banger songs. I think they’re also a band I avoid because I wouldn’t want to hear something and think, “Oh could I interpolate that lyric? Could I do something with that?”
ES: I was mostly asking because some songs share a similar sensibility as LC and I was wondering if you two had ever crossed paths. Matty Healy tends to wear his references on his sleeve, but maybe you’re both just drawing from similar influences.
GP: There was a video of them jamming “Never Meant” in a practice room, which I did see. They’re a funny band in that regard. When they came up, their first album was a lot more generic indie pop. It felt very post-Kooks to me. But it’s gotten a lot more interesting since then. And fair play. As far as I recall, we’ve never met. Maybe we were on the same festival at one point. Maybe one of us left a Port-a-loo as the other was entering, but never knowingly.
ES: Let’s talk about the new album a little bit. I haven’t heard it yet, but I have seen the track listing and some of these eye-catching song titles. Do you want to give a preview to anyone reading this, in terms of your current favorite song on the album, but also potential fan favourites?
GP: You know… I really try not to think of it in those terms. If “Feast of Tongues” was my favorite, for example, and I say that, then everyone has heard my favorite track because it’s the first single. You’re going to think that I think everything else isn’t as good. At the same time, I feel like every previous LC album had one song that could’ve maybe been cut. That’s not the case with All Hell. Every song serves a purpose and contributes to the bigger picture.
In terms of fan favourites, I think “Kms” might be the one.
ES: Sick. What a title. Laughs.
GP: It’s a very good album. I’m so happy with it. Genuinely. Usually around this point, I’ll be listening back and feeling uncertain about particular elements. That’s not happening at the moment. Tom’s production is incredible. It’s a record that I think demands to be listened to as a whole piece. I know that’s not how most people consume music these days but it’s how I still consume music and I’m hopeful it will command their attention for 45 minutes.
I’ll also give a shout-out to “Long Throes,” too. That song’s got some really big moments that will be great to perform live.
ES: The album title is quite evocative. What is your relationship with hell at the moment?
GP: I think it’s a reference to this world that we live in. Everything is hell. Everything that the people are experiencing on a huge scale be it climate apocalypse, genocide, or everyday living. The turmoil of living in this world, the anxieties, and the depression that everybody feels. I think to describe living as hell is corny, don’t get me wrong, but it’s true. That’s where the title comes from, and I think it’s a fair reflection of where we’re at. I can’t think of anything more fitting, or more appropriate. I say this knowing I’m incredibly fortunate. I’m a straight, white, cisgender man who lives in England. I’ve got a head start because of that. But still it feels relevant.
ES: I don’t want to read too much into it, but given the band has a history with the phrase “All’s Well That Ends”… I dunno it almost seems like All Hell is the inverse of that. Am I just making this up?
GP: I would say the two ideas are quite similar. I’ve always had this preoccupation with death and, if not death, then the end of things.
ES: Given that, I’d love to know your thoughts on death.
GP: I believe that when you die, you’re dead. You’re soil. But I feel very low stakes about it. However it ends up, I’ll have no choice but to vibe with it.
ES: Laughs.
GP: I hope I’m just dead. I don’t desire any afterlife or anything like that. I’m very matter-of-fact about things like that. Everything ends, everything dies. I’m quite reconciled to that in my head.
What about you?
ES: I feel the same but I’m also open to the idea of energy transmitting or transferring. I don’t have any grand theory on it. I just think that there might be more going on than we understand. But I don’t think I’m going to show up at the pearly gates and have them ask me about the newsletter. “Gee, you sure did interview a lot of bands. Come on in!”
GP: But those bands sucked! Get down there!
No, do you know what, I think it’s none of my business as well. Like, who are you to pontificate on this? You’re not smart enough to come up with the answer. You just keep quiet and when you get there that’ll be what you’re left with.
ES: In light of the immediate crises you just mentioned… The idea of worrying about the afterlife just seems so antiquated. We have so many other things to think about!
GP: I’ve never really considered that as an argument against religion, but I can get along with it. 15 years ago, I would have very much been like “Religion sucks! I’m an atheist!!” Now I’m like, yeah, whatever. It’s not for me, but whatever gets you through the day. There’s enough misery in this world without trying to take things away from people that make them happy. It’s not for me, but I sincerely wish good luck to anyone who gets comfort from it.
