Interview: The Wombats

 

 

Both, honestly. We have many pinch-yourself moments, “how are we still doing this?”, but it’s been long enough now that it does feel normal as well. The hardest thing is the transition; being on tour, playing shows, and then coming back home, that constant two lives thing. But the shows have stayed at a similar level for about fifteen years now. Obviously, some territories ebb and flow a little, but the UK is definitely the best for us, Australia is pretty insane, probably because of the name, and hopefully a little bit because of the music. America has been a steady build, and Europe we can pretty much do theatre-sized shows across most markets. We are so, so lucky.

 

In general, yeah. People come and go, some leave the industry, some go off with other bands, but we’ve had the same tour manager, front of house guy and guitar tech for over ten years now. Our tour manager was a monitor guy before that for a few years. If people do a really good job and you get on well with them, of course you want to stay loyal. And you live together on a bus a lot of the time, so it wouldn’t work if you didn’t actually like each other. We’re genuinely mates with them, that makes a huge difference.

 

He just had one of those times when you’re looking out at nature and everything gets put back in its place. You want to carry that with you, stay grounded, stay in the moment, don’t let your mind scurry off into the vortex. And music does that for us too. Whether I’m playing drums, piano, guitar, making songs, it’s mindfulness in itself. There’s nothing else that exists in that moment other than you and the sound. It’s a bit like yoga, or something like that. That’s what keeps us coming back to music time and time again.

 

We absolutely loved working with Mark Crew on the previous three albums, genuinely. But when you’ve been doing it this long, you start wondering, what would our music sound like through someone else’s brain? Myself and Tord have a side project, ‘Sunship Balloon’, and John had mixed our EP and album. We always thought he’d be such a great fit for the Wombats. He was an apprentice under Steve Albini, so has that whole ethos of musicians in a room, take after take, not overworking it; documenting a moment in time rather than manufacturing a sound. It’s those time where mistakes or subconscious changes in playing sometimes become your favourite parts. He’d hear something unplanned and just go, shut up, we’re keeping it.

 

Yeah, I mean, it works both ways, but there have to be concerns around transparency. If AI companies are training their software on existing music and lyrics, there needs to be a framework, some sort of micropayments, attribution, something organised and agreed rather than shady deals in the background that never trickle down to artists. That was my first thought. Tord actually tested one of those AI music programs, gave it some prompts, female vocal, upbeat indie, bass line, and what came back was fine for about thirty seconds and then you were just bored. There’s no depth. Tim Minchin said something I keep coming back to; it’s not art, because there’s no real process. It’s clever technology, I can appreciate that, but it’s not the same thing. I’d much rather hear someone struggling to play a guitar, figuring something out, those moments are magic. And in reality, people want to go to live music. Humans want to play instruments and make things together. I’m firmly on the side of the humans.

 

It just seems to happen, honestly. ‘Moving to New York’ started as a slow ballad; Murph was just playing it on piano at LIPA when we were about twenty, really lovely, quite melancholy. We tried it with the band and within twenty minutes it was frantic and dancey. Murph needed a bit of time to get used to it, but we played it at a gig and the crowd just reacted, and that was that. ‘Blood on the Hospital Floor’ came from a jam in Perth where we’d swapped instruments, me on guitar, Tord on drums, Murph on bass. I texted Murph that night saying “I can’t get that riff out of my head”, we have to finish it. He had the title in his phone already. And the thing about that title is that blood is supposed to be on the hospital floor, it means people are being fixed on the table. So even something that sounds dark on the surface has this other angle to it. Maybe the music helps you look at things differently for those three minutes.

 

Ha! Yeah, there are definitely a few more on this one. But in general, we all just want that excitement in there, it’s not often thought about, it just seems to happen. I guess we’re getting a bit older as well, so maybe it’ll start happening a bit more. We’ll see.

 

Honestly? I don’t think I’ve ever made one up. I just tell the truth. I can talk to a tree most of the time, but if the energy isn’t there, it isn’t there. ‘Sorry I’m Late, I Didn’t Want to Come’ is probably the best excuse ever written, isn’t it? Just the pure honesty of it.

 

It actually probably helps with longevity, if I’m honest. We spend so much time together on the road that when we get home and we’re all in our own little worlds, there isn’t that pressure to be straight back in the practice room. We just have to be more organised. We’ve fitted studio days into tours, six days in Australia here, three days in London there. We’ve done some stuff on Zoom, have some professional tools and made a couple of songs that way, but you really can’t beat just being in a room together, feeding off the actual feeling in the space. Nothing replaces that.

 

We’ve got a social media team who, over the years, have just figured out what we like. There’s a photographer who comes on tour sometimes, and we’ll have banter with him, and it just becomes this collaborative thing. It means we can focus on the music and the shows and trust that they’re doing a good job. There’s barely been a moment where we’ve gone, why have you posted that? In general, they just get it. And we’re lucky for that, because we would be absolutely useless at keeping on top of it ourselves.

 

Ha! I think it’s something about lobsters finding a mate for life, living in the dark, that even through darkness, life and love can find a way. You’d have to ask Murph for the full explanation. What I remember is it was a hot day in LA, we were jamming around that one for ages, really laid back and groovy. But yeah, even lobsters thrive despite wandering around the murky bottom of the sea. Love finds a way no matter where you are.

 

We’ve got a bunch of shows around the UK and Europe, and then September onwards we’ll start really digging in and working on the next album. We’ve signed the deal, it’s happening, we just haven’t really started yet. Last year was so busy, and Murph especially needed a bit of time to get his head together before going again, which is the right call. Finish one thing properly, then go. Clean slate. September, we get cracking.

 

Definitely over three thousand. Ever since we played the Cluny in about 2005, we’ve always had such a great time up there. It’s got that same energy as Liverpool, coastal, Northern, brilliant banter, people who love music and love a party. Last time we had some technical difficulties about an hour in and had to leave the stage for five minutes, and the Geordies just stayed with us. The energy didn’t dip at all. They’re the best fans in the world, honestly. This time we’re going for a technically flawless show. We can’t wait.

 

The Wombats play Times Square, Newcastle. Visit thetimessquare.co.uk for tickets and dates. ‘Oh! The Ocean’ Extended Edition is out now on AWAL.