In which everyone’s favourite fictional Italian disco producer provides a high-tempo soundtrack to… discounted British rail journeys for EU residents? The alter ego of Bristol-born, Berlin-based Anton Maiof, Maiovvi is a Dario Argento-obsessed playboy with a penchant for spooky film scores, but this is a joyously upbeat collection: the eminently danceable ‘Stable Mirror’, in particular, is a New Order-style banger that may yet have grizzled Haçienda veterans reaching for their dusty glow sticks.
Those of us marooned in the provinces during the late 1980s club explosion might find retro, beat-laden workouts like ‘Post Modern Morals’ evoking hazy memories of Sol lager and The Hit Man and Her rather than the Manchester superclubs, but – regardless of where your dancefloor mojo was honed – this is a giddy concoction, liable to make anyone whose teenage years involved the occasional smiley-faced T-shirt feel decidedly misty-eyed.
This Brighton singer-songwriter has peppered her delightfully downbeat vignettes of everyday melancholy with the occasional vintage synth, but here throws herself into full John Carpenter soundtrack mode, with an instrumental concept album whose premise – that of a worldwide sleeping sickness, and a dangerous cult seeking out the victims – sets the tone for an enjoyably dark and suitably woozy musical journey. ‘Run’ even hints at Mark Snow’s X-Files theme; perfect for a case that Mulder and Scully would surely relish.
Stephen Prince’s multi-media project A Year In The Country explores the links between folk, electronica and a rather otherworldly pastoralism, this new compilation tasking its contributors with creating musical explorations of abandoned roads and railway lines. The likes of Field Lines Cartographer and Grey Frequency evoke heartbreaking radiophonic dreams of overgrown sidings and crumbling platforms, and Pulselovers‘ ‘Woodford Halse To Fenny Compton in Five Minutes’ somehow contrives to make a hypnotic, Krautrock synth anthem the perfect celebration of pre-Beeching steam travel. Joyous.
The irrepressible Mulholland – whose 1999 Mount Vernon Arts Lab album The Séance at Hobs Lane helped define 21st century hauntology – is in prolific form, and his third album of 2019 soundtracks Anthony Burgess’ novel in suitably sinister style. Trademark sound manipulations expertly create ominous slabs of music concrète, the eight-minute ’84F’ perfectly evoking the draughty menace of chief Droog Alex’s teenage prison cell. A limited cassette release on this perfectly-formed micro-label, laudably dedicated to electronica with a literary inspiration.
As well as this regular blog, the Haunted Generation is also a bi-monthly column in the Fortean Times magazine, rounding up new releases and forthcoming events. This was the most recent feature, from issue 389, dated February 2020.
THE HAUNTED GENERATION
Bob Fischer rounds up the latest news from the parallel worlds of popular hauntology…
“The general reaction from the press seems to be surprise, but also that it makes perfect sense,” says Jim Jupp, co-founder of Ghost Box Records. “It certainly does to us. His eclectic career takes in a lot of the areas that are part of the Ghost Box landscape – psychedelia, folk, electronica – and more generally I think it’s probably fair to say that his work often re-explores sounds and styles from the past, without them being straight re-enactments.”
“It’s a central idea of the label’s manifesto. If we had one, that is…”
He’s talking about one of the most unexpected musical collaborations of 2020. And some of us have barely taken the Christmas tree down. Ghost Box, the home of haunted electronica stalwarts Belbury Poly, The Focus Group and The Advisory Circle, have teamed up with the Modfather himself. Paul Weller‘s experimental EP In Another Room, released on the label on 31st January, combines abstract sound collage with a distinctly melancholy musicality. Wistful piano passages collide with mournful cellos, all infused with the sounds of distant church bells, summery birdsong, and juddering spirals of disquieting radiophonica. Unsettlingly pastoral, it evokes jumbled memories of crackly Percy Grainger 78s, of Ivor Cutler’s wheezing harmonium and the shocked delight of hearing The Beatles’ Revolution 9 for the first time. It is the sound of that late summer’s evening walk in the woods, when the darkness settles just that little too quickly for comfort.
“We loved the four tracks he put together,” says Jim. “They connect directly to the world of vintage electronic music, musique concrète and tape music. But as you’d expect, they add a very musical sensibility, shot through with all kinds of instrumental passages. Sometimes just little sketches or dead ends that wrongfoot the listener.”
“In talking to me and Julian [House, Jim’s Ghost Box co-founder], it was clear that he’s very into early experimental electronics. Amongst others, Third Ear Band and Trevor Wishart came up in conversation.”
So how did the collaboration come about?
“We discovered through an interview he did for Shindig magazine that he was a fan of the label,” explains Jim. “And he mentioned to the editor that he’d like to do something for us at some point, so he put us in touch. We were absolutely thrilled and honoured, as you can imagine.”
The vinyl 7″ is immaculately swathed in House’s trademark artwork; gloriously evocative of some strange, faded textbook in a dusty school library. It’s a beautiful object from a gentler, stranger era, and Jim hints tantalisingly at further collaborations. In the meantime, In Another Room is available from ghostbox.co.uk.
Elsewhere, the prolific boutique label Spun Out Of Control continues to release perfectly-crafted cassettes of eerie electronica, often with impressively high concepts. Glasgow’s Alan Sinclair – recording as Repeated Viewing – explains the genesis of his wonderfully sinister new instrumental album Nature’s Revenge: “The inspiration came to me whilst sitting up a hill in the middle of the beautiful Scottish wilderness,” he says. “The rugged landscapes of my homeland provide unparalleled moments of awe, often mixed with a sense of dread as the inevitable foul weather moves in. Is there an underlying narrative? Perhaps a poor-planned woodland wander gone sour, creepy encounters with strange forest beings, or ramblers frantically fleeing their unfortunate encounters with the ‘hill folk’…”
Meanwhile, Rupert Lally’s albumThe Prospect provides the soundtrack to his own short story, the tale of 19th century stagecoach robber Jack Delaney, whose bungled heist in the remote Canadian Rockies sparks a terrifying tale of supernatural visitations and blood sacrifice, all infused with a woozy, dream logic that bleeds into his epic, synth-drenched compositions. And I can’t trumpet enough the talents of Spun Out of Control’s resident sleeve artist Eric Adrian Lee, whose darkly beautiful artwork is both tasteful and outré, the meeting point between vintage Hammer Horror posters and lurid 1970s prog-rock sleeves. Visit spunoutofcontrol.bandcamp.com/merch.
I’ve also become entranced by Wrappers Delight, a book compiled by Trunk Records’ irrepressible Jonny Trunk, showcasing the incredible, house-filling collection of sweet wrappers, crisp packets, drinks cans, bubblegum cards and other 1960s and 1970s ephemera amassed by Stockport man John Townsend. Over 500 of them have been scanned and photographed, and are – ahem – a giddy confection. An overwhelming reminder of the days when Anglia Shandy, Count Dracula lollies and Doctor Who sweet cigarettes were produced by tiny factories in Brentford, Slough and Cricklewood, it’s also liable to give you an insatiable hankering for the taste of a Rowntree’s Fingammy. After a successful crowdfunding campaign, it goes on general sale in February, published by FUEL.
For our parents, the TV and film Western was frequently an uncomplicated affair: chisel-jawed, straightforward hero figures – say John Wayne, Gary Cooper or Randolph Scott – rode purposefully into ramshackle frontier towns, tastefully dispatched any resident black-shirted baddies, scooped Maureen O’Hara into their arms, and rode wistfully back into the sunset.
For us children of the 1970s however, life became – inevitably – more complex. The “revisionist Western” films of Sergio Leone and Sam Peckinpah, shown as late-night illicit TV treats throughout the decade, brought bloody reality and a slew of morally ambiguous lead characters to the genre. Later films, notably Clint Eastwood’s existential brace of High Plains Drifter and Pale Rider, even introduced tantalising glimpses of the supernatural.
These latter developments have undoubtedly influenced Rupert Lally’s atmospheric new album, The Prospect, available now from Spun Out Of Control. A soundtrack to his own short story, it uses ambient synths and subtle, analogue instrumentation to depict the surreal aftermath of a bungled stagecoach robbery in the snowy, 19th century Canadian Rockies. Gang leader Jack Delaney, seriously wounded, finds himself in the remote mining town of Prospect, where a grieving widow mistakenly greets him as her miraculously returned husband… before her fellow villagers are revealed, rather alarmingly, to be no strangers to the practice of blood sacrifice.
There is, of course, a twist…
I asked Rupert about the influences behind both the story and music, and about his background as a musician. Here’s how the conversation went…
Bob: Tell us a little bit about the genesis of The Prospect. Had you written the story first, and decided it lent itself to a soundtrack, or did the story and music always go hand-in-hand?
Rupert: It was a story first. I’d had the basic story for a while… I’m a great hoarder of story ideas and quite often I’ll keep coming back to the good ones, trying to find a way of using them. The most extreme example of this is the novel I’m writing at the moment, based on an idea I came up with as a twelve or thirteen-year-old. Of course, over time, the story evolves. You forget some of the details of the original idea and add new ones. The story I’m telling in the novel has the basic idea and structure that I came up with all those years ago, but the details and the characters aren’t the sort of thing that the twelve-year-old me would have created.
The Prospect is a little bit like that. I came up with the first part, the robbery going wrong in a town on the edge of nowhere, as a teenager. But that was it. Later on, perhaps inspired by The Return Of Martin Guerre, I came up with the idea of Jack Delaney being mistaken for the dead man, and then – when I was thinking about the album – I decided to add the more disturbing elements of cannibalism and sacrifice. Up until then it had still essentially been a Western.
Knowing that Gavin from Spun Out Of Control was aiming for a December release, I thought pushing it in a slightly more gothic direction would be good. I wrote a first draft, which I then ended up altering slightly as the music progressed. The ending in particular got changed a couple of times… there was one version where Jack becomes a Wendingo-like creature and returns to destroy the town, though it was left ambiguous as to whether that was real, or simply in Jack’s head. Another version had the marshals arriving in Prospect looking for signs of Jack and spotting some of his belongings, only to be surrounded by the murderous townsfolk. In the end, I settled on the ending I used, because it seemed to make the most sense from both a narrative and scoring perspective.
Does that period of history, and the whole idea of frontier prospecting, hold a fascination for you?
It does. It’s one of those time periods that captivate me personally, in much the same way as the Bronze Age, or the Victorian London of Sherlock Homes and Jack The Ripper. Of course, I‘m fully aware that my image of life back then is a complete romantic fantasy that probably bears no relation to how hard and harsh the reality was.
More generally speaking, the vastness of North America is something that has fascinated me ever since I was a child, and one can only imagine how endless the land must have seemed to those travelling across it in those days, looking for a new life. It clearly appeals to certain isolationist tendencies in me, even though I know I wouldn’t have lasted five minutes back then. I’m far too much of a soft city boy…
Did you do any research into the history of Canadian prospecting and mining towns?
Not really. In fact, I’m deliberately vague about the story’s setting for good reason… because I didn’t want to have to do too much research! I did double check the banks and money transfers that are mentioned in the story, though, as I didn’t want to write anything that was completely wrong for the period.
Were there any particular films or books that you had in mind when you were making the album?
Movies were definitely an inspiration. The opening line, “The Canadian Rockies, Winter, 1882” is a direct homage to the opening title card from John Carpenter’s The Thing. Which was clearly an influence on the music, too.
In terms of Westerns, I‘d recently re-watched both Dead Man and McCabe and Mrs Miller for my film blog so they certainly had an influence, particularly the snowy atmosphere at the end of McCabe. Other influences were the Clint Eastwood films, High Plains Drifterand Pale Rider, the latter having a very cold and snowy setting. Another film which I haven’t seen in years, but which definitely had an influence on both the story and the music, was Antonia Bird’s frontier cannibal horror, Ravenous.
You live in Switzerland these days… did the country’s mountainous landscape have any influence on the genesis of The Prospect?
Funnily enough, yes. About fifteen years ago, when I first thought about incorporating the idea of Jack being mistaken for someone else. My wife and I were the Best Man and Maid of Honour at a friend’s wedding, in a little village quite high up in the hills. There was just the church and a few houses, surrounded by a rocky valley and a river. That was probably the initial template for the town of Prospect, though obviously it’s changed a little in the story. More generally, it’s just that sense of being incredibly small in relation to nature… that idea of being dwarfed in terms of scale. It’s something that stays with you. Also we have fairly regular snowfalls out here, so I certainly have a bit of personal experience of trudging through thick snow. And what real cold feels like…
And how did you try to use the music to reflect and encapsulate the story’s location and events? How did you go about that… were any particular sounds that particularly lent themselves to telling the story of Jack Delaney?
Well, it was clear from the beginning, as this was something deliberately created for Spun Out Of Control, that it would have a lot of electronic elements. I pitched it to Gavin as the imaginary score to a film that’s a cross between High Plains Drifter and The Wicker Man, as if scored by John Carpenter and The Haxan Cloak. I’d recently heard the score that Bobby Krlic – aka The Haxan Cloak – did for Midsommar, and thought that blend of electronics and weird acoustic sources might be right for this.
Equally, I thought combining that with the more overt electronics and insistent rhythms that Carpenter is famous for would be interesting. I started creating sounds that felt cold, or haunting to me. There’s one Boards Of Canada-style synth sound that’s prominent throughout the whole album. It features on the first track, Edge Of The Union, which was one of the first sounds I created for this, with my Roland ProMars plug-in. It’s got delay and an LFO modulating the pitch, so it’s constantly going slightly out-of-tune, as if it’s being carried on the wind, or the cold is affecting it.
I created a lot of sounds using Straylight, a granular synthesis plugin from Native Instruments, as well. Building patches built out of wind noises or voices… things that suggested cold or wind to me, yet could still be played like a musical instrument. There are also violins playing harmonics, or at the very top of their range, which has a very brittle, cold sound to my ears. Finally there’s that bass thump sound, pure Carpenter, which came from my Roland D-50. To me that was the sound of Jack… that thing inside him pushing him onwards, keeping him “on edge”.
Where did the character of Jack come from? Go on… who would play him in a film?
Perhaps it’s a failing of mine as a writer, but I never think of characters first. It’s always the story that comes first and then the characters are there to populate it. I’m constantly worried, when I write, that they might simply come cross as plot devices. But in my head, Jack looks a bit like Charlie Hunnam, or perhaps a young Robert Redford. Blond hair, scraggy beard. Like those soldiers you see in photos from the Civil War: boys who have had to become men before their time, but with the charisma that some people have that naturally makes them a leader.
Of course, the brothers are named Jack and Bobby after the Kennedys… but it was equally a case of wanting names that sounded right for the period. In the first draft, I had names and backstories for each of the Delaney gang, but I jettisoned them when I realized that it wasn’t necessary for the reader to know them – they’re dead and gone before the story really starts. Unsurprisingly, as the robbery is the oldest part of the story, that’s the part that’s the most clear to me, visually. I could almost storyboard it, frame by frame.
Your previous album consisted of music inspired by Frank Herbert’s novel, Dune. Can you sum up what the book has meant to you over the years? Are you a fan of the David Lynch film version, too?
You know what? That book was one of several I started as a teenager but never finished, and that I’ve recently made an effort to re-read and complete. The Lynch film I have great affection for. For the digital release of Dune, I wrote some sleevenotes, mentioning that my first encounter with the film was the toy figures of Paul Atreides and Feyd Rautha. Even now, when I read the book, I see the faces of those actors as the characters and – despite how much it’s hated by some fans of novel – the film is really quite faithful to most of the book.
Yes, definitely! They’re all authors that have meant a lot to me at one time or another. Ballard was a huge influence on me as a writer too, when I wrote my own sci-fi novella in 2018 – Solid State Memories – and created a soundtrack for it. Ballard and Philip K. Dick are clear influences on the story and its “twenty minutes into the future” setting. There are also characters named Ballard, Herbert, Matheson and Burgess.
William Golding too was hugely influential to me. Along with Graham Greene and Anthony Burgess, he was one of those gateway authors that transitioned me from reading genre fiction and movie novelisations to more “literary” work. Also, Greene and Golding both had those wonderful pen and watercolour drawings by Paul Hogarth on their covers in the 1980s. I’m consciously paying homage to those in the cover art for all the soundtracks to books on my Bandcamp page.
So when you read books, do you actually start imagining soundtracks to them?
Not unless I’m planning to score them. But I’m someone who imagines the entire visual world when I read a book; I could tell you what the characters look like, what they’re wearing, and the colour of the wallpaper. So for me, when I score a book, it’s like scoring a film or a TV programme in my head. The images make me think of the music that would work alongside them. Perhaps because of my background as a composer and sound designer for theatre and TV, I find it much easier to create music around a concept or a story. There’s no question of what the music needs to do next, or where it needs to go emotionally… the story tells you all that. As a composer you just need to respond to it.
Can you tell us a bit more about your background as a musician, and your theatre and TV work?
I started playing in bands as a teenager. I was – and still am – a pretty good drummer… and a so-so guitarist, turned half-decent bass player. I also got interested in sound engineering around the same time, and I worked a little in a few studios. Bizarrely, it took me until my last year at University, doing a technical theatre module as part of my degree, to see that there was a way of combining that music and sound engineering with my interest in theatre and film. I did a Masters Degree at the Central School of Speech and Drama and began a career as a composer and sound designer. I worked on numerous theatre shows in London, as well as the theme music for shows like ITV At the Movies. More recently, my music‘s been used in the filmThe Great White Silence, and in the iOS gameRebuild 3.
What made you decide to start composing and releasing your music as a solo artist?
My first release back in 2004, The Noisy Image, was to promote a production company that I’d started with my wife and a friend, and my first proper solo release under my own name was because I wanted an outlet for the more experimental stuff that I was interested in doing, stuff that had no place in my commercial work. Perhaps unsurprisingly, there wasn’t much call for me to sound like Squarepusher or Four Tet with the clients I was working for.
What started as an extracurricular outlet eventually became my main focus, especially once my kids were born. Sometimes having my own project was what kept me going, creatively.
The Prospect also has one of my favourite album covers of 2019! Can you describe your feelings when you first saw it?
I loved it! I adore Eric Adrian Lee’s work and I won’t lie – his beautiful work was one of the reasons why I wanted to release stuff on Spun Out Of Control. The visual side of music is incredibly important to me. I do all the design for my Bandcamp releases, and I’ve done all the illustrations on my Bibliotapes releases. It’s the thing that links all the labels that I love, from ECM and Rune Grammofon, to Warp and Ghost Box, or Clay Pipe, Polytechnic Youth and Spun Out Of Control. They all have a really strong visual style. I was really curious to see what Eric would come up with for the story, because it’s a little different from the 1980s horror or Giallo vibe that some of their releases have had. But he’s such a genius that he came through in spades, and I think it gets across the vibe of the story perfectly.
Thanks to Rupert for his time, and The Prospect – including a limited-edition cassette run – is available here. And you can read the full storyline, too…
The 1970s felt like a very “ill” decade. Those of us who were children at the time were well aware of the impact of commonplace maladies, and we all share fond memories of gazing woozily at BBC Schools programmes while attempting to shake off the unpleasant effects of mumps, measles or chickenpox. Or, indeed, incorporating unspecified abdabs into our childhood games… it was an era when simple playground pursuits like “Tag” were rebranded as “Bugs”, or even “Fleas”, the sole object being to contaminate as many of our closest friends as possible with the lethal, imaginary infection of our choosing.
Then, of course, we could wallow in the welter of TV and film favourites that took a myriad of plagues and maladies as their starting point. There was Survivors, of course, but even Hollywood blockbusters had their moments: 1978’s Coma, directed by Michael Crichton, depicts a spate of unexplained brain-deaths in a Boston Hospital; and the lesser-known Patrick – from the same year – sees a troubled Susan Penhaligon despatched to care for a comatose young man who nevertheless seems to exhibit worrying telekinetic powers.
Good grief, there was even Only When I Laugh, an illness-based sitcom, with James Bolam, Peter Bowles and Christopher Strauli seemingly stranded indefinitely in a grim hospital ward with three non-specific, long-term lurgies.
All of these memories sprang to mind when I first listened to Hattie Cooke‘s excellent new album, The Sleepers. Released by the cassette-friendly Spun Out Of Control, it forms the soundtrack to an strikingly original narrative, an approach that has become the label’s intriguing trademark. The story is that of a worldwide sleeping sickness that baffles the scientific community, and the young woman – Maude – whose son becomes affected. When he is kidnapped by a violent sect who are determined to sacrifice the snoozing victims to achieve misguided absolution, she decides, in desperation, to infiltrate the cult’s membership. But unexpectedly finds herself falling for a fellow member…
It’s an album of beautiful, cinematic electronica, and I asked Hattie about its inspirations and evolution.
Bob:Your previous work has been as a more traditional singer-songwriter, although you’ve incorporated a few synths here and there. Had it always been in your mind to make a full-length instrumental album?
Hattie: I’ve always loved soundtracks, and classical music especially. When I was about 12 or 13 I started asking for soundtracks as Christmas and birthday presents. I was really into Amelie, and the Yann Tiersen soundtrack in particular, and I pretty much played it on repeat. I think it was around that time that I starting thinking “One day I want to compose music for films…” So I guess you could say I’ve always had the inclination to do it. But realistically I had no idea what that meant in principle or how it would sound, just that I wanted to be like all of the composers I admired. That feeling has never gone away, especially as I’ve gotten more into film as I’ve grown older.
The ideas behind The Sleepers are quite specific, and it has a set narrative… did you always intend it to be a musical work, or did it ever cross your mind to write it as a novel, a short story, or even a film?
The Sleepers actually started out as something else entirely. Technically it started out as a dance record about four years ago, but I scrapped it. And then last year I came back to the files and realised that there was some good stuff that I could develop into something new. At the same time, my friend Nick [as Nicholas Langley and Dark Half] was about to release a concept album called Rebel Convoy, on Spun Out Of Control, and he inspired me to try something cinematic myself. The music kept reminding me of a post-apocalypse, dystopian movie, and so I started to imagine a film in my mind, and began to re-write the music as a soundtrack.
Initially I was thinking along the ‘nuclear apocalypse’ line but, somewhere along the way, the music began to take on a life of its own. When the album was half-written, it had a much more dream-like quality. So I spent a few days coming up with a new plot. I came up with some pretty terrible ones but eventually I landed on the idea of the The Sleepers, which was partly inspired by the Oliver Sacks book, Awakenings. It was on my bedside table at the time.
I had wanted to release a short story along with the music, but ran out of time. In my wildest dreams somebody would turn it into a film and let me write the screenplay.
The idea of a worldwide sleeping sickness is so delightfully reminiscent of those blockbuster 1970s “disaster” books and films, and I guess the obvious comparison is something like Coma. Did you have that kind of thing in mind when you started thinking about The Sleepers? Is there a secret Michael Crichton fan in us all?
Gosh, I could talk for hours about 1970s films; Marathon Man, Network, Close Encounters of the Third Kind, Annie Hall, Two-Lane Blacktop, All the Presidents Men, Dog Day Afternoon, Deliverance, Papillon… the list goes on and on. But when I was making the album I kept thinking about 1970s science fiction, and dystopian films like Logan’s Run, Westworld (Hello, Michael Crichton) and THX 1138.
The scene in THX 1138 where Robert Duvall is climbing up that ladder trying to escape to the outside world, as those terrifying robot men call after him, kept playing around and around in my head. That’s why I titled one of the tracks ‘Ladders’, as a private nod to that film.
How did you approach the album – did you have the whole story planned out, and then compose music for each plot point accordingly?
Sort of, but not quite. I definitely didn’t approach it as logically, or as constrained as that. It was a bit all over the place to begin with, but once the album was half done and I knew what the plot was going to be, I began to refine the whole thing. It became clear that I had a specific sound that I was trying to capture. I was going for a dream-like calmness that also had a sense of tension about it, like something ominous or dangerous was about to happen. I have no idea if I pulled it off!
Certainly, at points I’d think, “I have too many dreamy tracks, I need to write one that’s more upbeat, with more tension and energy” and so I would sit down and write until something good came out. But mostly I just tried to put myself into the various emotional states of the characters. I’d picture something happening to them in the film, and then write the musical version of their thoughts and feelings. It’s an abstract process that’s hard for me to get my own head around.
Can you talk us through any characters that you had in mind for The Sleepers? Tell us about Maude! And the cult member she falls for…
Maude! She’s so determined to get vengeance for the death of her son. She’s heartbroken. But the pain drives her. She becomes obsessed by the need to “do something”. She thinks that if she can join the cult, and rise up the ranks, that she might be able to take it down from the inside, so to speak. And then she meets this guy at one of the cult meetings, I never gave him a name, but we can call him Bob after you…
And so Bob is part of the cult too, but unlike the other members, there’s something familiar about him, something in him that she recognises but that she can’t put her finger on. And there’s this tension between them, sexual or emotional maybe, it’s hard to say. But Maude is beating herself up, because she’s really only wanting to focus on her plan. And more to the point, she doesn’t understand why she’s falling for this sociopath who seemingly thinks it’s acceptable to steal children from their beds and sacrifice them.
Eventually they discover that they’re both fake members. and Bob has his own vendetta against the cult. So they connect over their mutual hate and desire for revenge. It’s all very odd and backwards, romantically speaking, but then again I was going through a break-up when I wrote the album, so that might have something to do with it!
As a maker of electronic music, who are your inspirations and influences? I think I picked out hints of John Carpenter and even Mark Snow’s music for The X-Files, but I’m happy to be told that I’m wrong!
It’s funny, so many people – after they hear the music – say to me that I must like John Carpenter. Truth be told, I had no idea who he was at the time. Turns out I’ve seen a ton of his films, but I definitely wouldn’t be able to sing you one of his themes. I’ve always been into classical musical, especially minimalism and chamber music. I spent most of 2017 and 2018 listening to Arvo Part, Henryk Górecki, Erik Satie, Philip Glass, John Tavener… that sort of thing. I think that feeds into what I do.
Obviously I don’t have an entire orchestra to hand, and actually I can’t even read music. I just have an old iPad with GarageBand on it, so I take my influences and impose the dodgy built-in synth sounds on them, and it comes out sounding like John Carpenter or New Order or whatever. It’s a total accident. The music I make is really just a product of my own various limitations. I’d probably be writing for a 72 piece orchestra, or a string quartet, if I could.
How did you link up with Spun Out Of Control? Did you approach them, or did they approach you?
I wrote the album specifically with them in mind. After Nick showed me a preview of Rebel Convoy, I was really keen to release a concept album too. The artwork, the sound, the concept… it was all so exciting to me. And Spun Out of Control are a very cool label. So I spent a few months working on a demo version of the album and then I contacted Gavin [Stoker, label boss] via Twitter… pretty much just asking him to take a listen and let me know if he might be interested in releasing something with me.
I suppose it’s quite a lot of work to put in without any guarantees, but I think it helped knowing that Spun Out Of Control were supportive of my first album… plus Nick at Third Kind Records said he’d release it if nobody else wanted to, ha! But Gavin has been great, very helpful and very encouraging. This was my first attempt at a concept album/soundtrack so it was a great feeling to have him on board with it. He’s a man who knows his stuff! It’s also very exciting to be the first female artist on the label.
They’re on a sensational run of form with their covers… what was your first reaction when you saw the sleeve for The Sleepers?
The artwork, by Eric Adrian Lee, is always mind-blowing. It’s genuinely half the reason that I wanted to work with Spun Out Of Control, because he does the majority of the covers for them. It’s funny though, because I gave him very different suggestions for the artwork when we initially spoke, and then he got behind on another project… so it took a few months. The anticipation was ramping up. And then when I saw what he’d come up with, it was a bit of a shock. Not a bad shock, just not at all what I was expecting. He said he found the album very relaxing and wanted to convey that.
I thought that was very funny. I guess it’s impossible to know what other people are going to think of when they hear your music. The artwork looks fantastic though, very striking and iconic, the sort of thing that belongs on a full-size film poster. I’m a little concerned that the artwork is better than the music!
The revival of the cassette is an interesting phenomenon, too. Do they hold a lot of sentimental value for you?
The fact that I’ve released two albums on cassette is sort of an accident, to be honest… it turns out that the labels who like my music are the sort of people who also like to release stuff on cassettes. I’m OK with that, although I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t desperate to release something on vinyl. I don’t even own a cassette player… I did when I was a little kid, but I only used it because it had an FM/AM radio, and I liked tuning into AM and listening to strange French music.
It took me two and a half years to listen to my first album on its physical format. I was drunk on whiskey and wine, and when we tried to play the B-side the tape went all weird and warped. We wound it back using a pencil but it happened again so we stopped trying. I still haven’t listened to The Sleepers cassette yet. I have one by my beside and I’ve very proud of it, but I’ve always found it surreal and a little uncomfortable listening back to my own music.
Has it whetted your appetite for more scores, and instrumental albums? What will the next album be?
I’ve had another solo album in the pipeline for two years, but I haven’t had the guts to record it properly. It’s wrapped up in a lot of emotions and I guess I’ve been putting off “going there”. But certainly I’d like to write more scores, and I’d love to score for a real-life film, not just one that I’ve made up in my head!
Partly I was hoping somebody would hear The Sleepers and ask me to score a film for them. But since it came out I’ve been asked by Alex White from Electric Soft Parade and Brakes to collaborate with him on a new album. He’s a wonderful songwriter, so hopefully that will happen at some point in the not too distant future. It would be nice to work with somebody else. I’m kind of a hermit when it comes to my work, but I think maybe it’s time to come out of my shell a little bit.
Thanks for Hattie for a fascinating chat, and The Sleepers is available here…