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It’s funny that when you live in a city, you take tourist spots for granted, putting some of the biggest landmarks on the backburner. When I travel to any European city for the weekend, I’ll keenly find myself in at least one cathedral and walk on as many bridges as I can physically handle. Yet, it took me until this month to see Elizabeth Tower - home of Big Ben - up close. Let me tell you, that’s an impressive, well-decorated building.

Between the belated local tourism and breaking in a tricky new pair of loafers, I’ve been a particularly busy boy of late. However, a few weeks ago, I jumped at the chance to speak to Australian musician and songwriter Rowena Wise. We explored some of her most game-changing musical memories, but first, she took me back to square one.

Rowena Wise: “I grew up in a small coastal town, three hours south of Perth, which is the most isolated capital city in the world..”

Handstamp: So, what did your access to live music look like?

Rowena Wise: “It was quite limited in that town, but there were some beautiful community events now and then. However, I had an interesting upbringing, in that I grew up in a very musical family. We were a family band, called The Wise Family Band. We played our first gig when I was eight years old, at the Bridgetown Blues Festival in Southwest Australia. We used to tour from that corner of Australia across to the east most summers. We’d drive as a 5-piece band, 3,700 kilometres to play at the folk festivals. We also did a tour of Ireland and another in America. So, there wasn’t much going on where I am from, but we travelled a lot. I was blessed in that respect.”

Handstamp: I guess your first musical memory was watching a family member then?

Rowena Wise: “My actual earliest memory is from when I was three years old, watching my dad play with his blues band at a local brewery and I was sat in a tractor tyre, which was small enough to climb inside. I saw dad playing his harmonica. So, as my overall first memory, it has to be my first musical memory too.”

Handstamp: That is such an idyllic memory of a countryside music event, with you sat on a tractor tyre. Was it a tyre swing, or just a random tyre on the floor?

Rowena Wise: “It was a pile of tyres for kids to play in. They made a bit of a recycled material playground. I’ve been back as a grown woman and realised that I must have been so tiny to fit my whole body in one of those.”

Handstamp: Was the harmonica your dad’s main instrument?

Rowena Wise: “He was a multi-instrumentalist man. He grew up in Perth playing in rock bands but went to folk music in the 80s. He played guitar, mandolin, dobro and harmonica. He was a luthier, so he built all of his instruments and all of mine. He built my guitars, my ukeleles, my violins, I have a dulcimer that he built. I’m very lucky.”

“Everybody felt connected by the same thing. I didn’t grow up going to church, so that was as close to spirituality that I would get. It felt like I was part of something beyond myself.”

Handstamp: What a talented man. You mentioned your family tours to Ireland and the US, how old would you have been?

Rowena Wise: “12 or 13 in the US. I think I was around the same age when I went to Ireland too, actually.”

Handstamp: That must have been a bit of a mind-expanding experience?

Rowena Wise: “Well, the audiences in Europe were very different, in that they are older places and there is a deeply entrenched appreciation for the arts. That exists here too, but people would REALLY pay attention over there in Ireland. I mean, we were playing folk music, but what is Australian folk music? Some would say its first nations music. We played Scottish and Irish fiddle tunes, old English folk songs, old-timey American songs and the odd Beatles cover. It was great to see, at a young age, I got to see the impact that music had on a very different demographic of audiences, all over. Everybody felt connected by the same thing. I didn’t grow up going to church, so that was as close to spirituality that I would get. It felt like I was part of something beyond myself.”

Handstamp: In Ireland, music truly is the third language, isn’t it? It’s such a major aspect of the culture there. Young kids are dancing to the fiddle on a Saturday night next to 60-year-olds.

Rowena Wise: “That really is beautiful.”

Handstamp: What about the trip to the US?

Rowena Wise: “We played quite a lot of house concerts, grassroots gigs and some festivals. A lot of the house concerts were in the Boston area, due to some old connections of my mum’s, as she’s from the states originally. Funny story, actually. We also did a gig in Phoenix, at a folk club, but had just been over the border in Mexico to get a bite to eat and I think we got food poisoning from a food vendor. That night, we played the gig but half way through, a couple of us got very ill and had to exit the stage, but we didn’t make the toilet.”

Handstamp: Woah…

Rowena Wise: “[laughs] only vomit, by the way.”

Handstamp: So, was that the end of the show?

Rowena Wise: “I think we carried on, just minus two members.”

Handstamp: You can’t fight through food poisoning. That’s pretty tough.

Rowena Wise: “I learned those important lessons early though, about having to be prepared for the unexpected stuff. I remember we had an 11-hour layover in Heathrow airport. Between the five of us, we had SO many bags, full of merch, instruments and personal things. So, we found this little alcove and were near a bunch of arcade machines, beeping and making noise for 11 hours. I still remember some of the loops, some of the sounds the machines made.”

Handstamp: Traumatic. Death by arcade sound bites.

Rowena Wise: “Yeah, exactly. The other thing I think of is just so many long drives in tiny cars where I couldn’t see out of the window because I had so much stuff on my lap.”

Handstamp: All valuable lessons, I’m sure. As important as your family are to your musical journey, was there a first show that you remember attending away from them and claiming it as your own?

Rowena Wise: “Yeah, I reckon I would have been about 15 or 16 and I was dating a boy who introduced me into more pop and electronic music. We went to see Gorillaz. It was a real divergence from the folk music I was used to. They toured Australia and brought a 10-piece band. It opened me up to a lot more music.”

Handstamp: Naturally, as they’re such an expansive band too. Really genre-bending.

Rowena Wise: “I can’t pin them down really, you’re right.”

Handstamp: It’s also not fair that Damon Albarn has achieved such a crazy level of success with two different bands either. Not having it. Was that show a bit of a culture shock for you then?

Rowena Wise: “A little bit. The folk audiences are very attentive and are really listening for the authenticity of the story being told. At that Gorillaz gig, the production value was so high and there were so many teenagers chatting, so it was as much of an anthropological exercise than anything. It was great seeing other kids my age going to see contemporary music and enjoy it. It wasn’t a better way or worse way to enjoy music, just a different way.”

“So, we found this little alcove and were near a bunch of arcade machines, beeping and making noise for 11 hours. I still remember some of the loops, some of the sounds the machines made.”

Handstamp: Right, there are different ways of celebrating music. Even without a completely captive audience, hanging on every word, they can still bring energy to a show. Was there ever a show you played that directly made you want to keep performing in the long term?

Rowena Wise: “I think it would have been one of the main stages at a folk festival in Australia. So, maybe Woodford Festival. Everybody took a turn to sing lead and I remember really enjoying that, taking the microphone to sing and feeling the band around me. It made me realise that I love the feeling of being the one to channel the story. There was a high and there’s nothing quite like it.”

Handstamp: Having played live for so many years, how has your relationship with attending gigs developed?

Rowena Wise: “Well, I find that my tastes have broadened as I’ve gotten older. I’m less wanky and purist now. I used to be uninterested in seeing artists if I wasn’t into their lyrics, as I came from such a stout background and thought I NEEDED to hear a good story. I’m not quite like that now and I think it comes from going to more gigs over the years, embracing parts of songs beyond the songwriting. The storytelling lies within the instrumentation too. Pretty wanky answer, actually.”

Handstamp: Well, firstly, I’m glad that ‘wanky’ is a thing in Australia, great adjective. Secondly, I can totally relate. I used to be focused on things I didn’t like, rather than using my energy to celebrate what I did like. I would indirectly limit myself. As I’ve gotten older, I have gained a larger appreciation for people trying stuff and taking risks, even when I don’t necessarily understand it.

Rowena Wise: “Definitely. As a young adult, you’re not a blank canvas, you’re a malleable bit of clay, you’re an osmotic thing that will have influences travel through and you collect what you like. Over time, as you mature, you realise that the little things matter and everybody’s just trying their best. You can go and like what you like, have tastes that define you, but you’re not going to be as wanky.”

Handstamp: Third use of ‘wanky’. I’m delighted. Which show that you’ve seen has had the most significant impact on you?

Rowena Wise: “I saw Bonnie Raitt when I was 17. She came and played at festival in Perth and I was blown away by her confidence. I felt like she was a friend, the way she talked to an audience of a 1000 people in such a personable way. She’s such a skilled musician and put on such an engaging show. I found it super inspiring. I think I got my wallet signed and remember her saying I had nice long eyelashes. [laughs]”

Handstamp: Incredible! What a meaningful confidence booster. So, the record is out. How are you feeling about playing the new music to a live audience?

Rowena Wise: “I’m feeling really excited. I’m taking a full band on tour with this album. I’ve never headlined in Australia with a full band before, to this extent. When I wrote the record, I had a band in mind. When I toured my last album, I got used to doing it one way, but I always knew I’d make this move, touring it with a group. I look forward to having so many skilled players around me and bringing new life to the songs.”

The latest Rowena Wise release Bad Things Feel Good* was released in August 2026 via Beloved Records. You can find tickets to her tour here. Subscribe to Handstamp Substack for future interviews. Follow @itshandstamp on social media and just bloody listen to Chief Springs on your chosen platform, will you? Illustrations by Alice Bowsher.

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I’m usually pretty sceptical about big-name legacy acts coming together for a huge reunion show, especially when their last performance in the UK was over 26 years ago. However, the sun and moon really put on the show of the year last week.

In a stroke of good fortune, I’ve witnessed two eclipses in the same amount of years. In 2024, I happened to be on Central Park when thousands of New Yorkers, of all ages and personality types gathered with cheap protective glasses, bonded by the collective awe of natural phenomenon. I even captured a load of footage, which was repurposed to promote a song I wrote with friends.

On Wednesday, I had a slightly less impressive eclipse day in London. Less eager and perhaps even somehow unbothered due to my semi-recent experience in New York, I managed to mostly avoid the hype. During THE moment, the big closer, I was walking up a hill near my house, inconvenienced by the heightened heat and dodging locals walking the streets blindly like colander wielding zombies.

All that being said, it’s still pretty heartening seeing footage of so many people unified by something spectacular and it reminds me of a pre-phone-distraction era, when shows still had the ability to totally and unmistakably entrance every single person in the room.

Speaking of captivating performers, I connected with Finnish singer, dancer and online powerhouse Joalin Loukamaa last month. Formerly of pop posse Now United, Joalin has steadily released music under her own name since 2022. Her latest EP Perspectiva was released in early July. We discussed the excitement she feels to share the new music in a live room, but first she took me back to early music memories of her childhood.

Joalin: “I was born in Turku in Finland, but I left when I was three and we moved to Spain, where all of my first memories are based. Then when I was 10, I moved to Mexico and around six years ago, I came back here, to Finland. Most of my life has been on the other side of the world, yet somehow here I am, back again.”

Handstamp: The homeland was calling.

Joalin: “[laughs] exactly!”

Handstamp: Where in Spain would those first memories have been made?

Joalin: “A small beach town, which is a reoccurring theme, I’m just realising.”

“I’m now understanding some of the parts of me that didn’t match the Mexican kids at school and realising that I wasn’t antisocial, I was just Finnish. It’s in my blood to be serious and melancholic. It’s all making sense to me now.”

Handstamp: Do you remember what your first experience of seeing someone perform was?

Joalin: “I remember performing myself, way before seeing anyone else perform. I was put into dance classes from about three years old, when we moved to Spain. So, my first memories of the stage were when I was on the stage. Most of my experience looking at performers and being inspired was related to dance, until I turned 19.”

Handstamp: So, you were dancing as soon as you could move, basically…

Joalin: “[laughs] yes.”

Handstamp: You had about a week of walking, then you were popping and locking.

Joalin: “My mum loves to tell a story, about going to an African dance class, where there were loud drums playing and she was watching. She says that I was in her belly at the time and I was moving along to the drums, so I think I was born dancing.”

Handstamp: So good. Who was the first person you remember seeing live that you were aspired by?

Joalin: “For some many years, it was only dancers. I remember in Spain, they’d be a thing called Sevillanas, where the street would be filled with food, you would see horses and you’d see these women wearing polka dot dresses, dancing flamenco. I love flamenco, it’s such a passionate and fiery style of music. I had my own little flamenco dresses and heels, I remember stepping all over the ground in them.”

Handstamp: So, everybody could hear you from streets away?

Joalin: “Yep! I’ve always been drawn to passionate and brave styles of music.”

Handstamp: Well, I bet that translated well to your move to Mexico, which is another proud, traditional and fiery place that celebrates art in a way that is different to a lot of other countries, right?

Joalin: “Yes and when I moved to Mexico, I continued dancing and my mum got married to a b-boy, so my stepdad is a breakdancer and later became my teacher. So, in Mexico, I really got into a hip hop scene and was seeing a lot rap battles. Being surrounded by that culture, I fell in love with how raw and brave it was. I loved it.”

Handstamp: Rap battles are about as close to sport as you can get in music. How would you compare the music culture in Mexico with Finland’s? I can only imagine it’s a stark comparison.

Joalin: “After six years, I’m just now understanding quite how big the difference is. Even though I was born here and my mother is Finnish, I don’t think I fully understood it. I think I’m now starting to understand the deeper levels of the culture, what the music scene is like and what the people respond to. I’m now understanding some of the parts of me that didn’t match the Mexican kids at school and realising that I wasn’t antisocial, I was just Finnish. It’s in my blood to be serious and melancholic. It’s all making sense to me now.”

Handstamp: Do you feel that some of those feelings of not fitting in fostered your passion for self-expression?

Joalin: “For sure. The passion for expression came at a very early age and I always had it, but I realised when I was older how much of a safe space it was for me. I’ve moved around so much, changed schools, changed countries, changed cities and been forced to rebuild my community so many times. Having this arts side allowed me to always have a family around me, of people who were like-minded, liked the same music, liked the same clothes and that kind of thing. The chance to fully be myself through performance means so much to me.”

Handstamp: It’s like a superhero’s double life.

Joalin: “[laughs] that’s a nice way to put it.”

“Once you realise how much people admire those who are authentic, you realise how important it is to be yourself. It’s part of the human experience to want to fit in, but I think we have to slowly get more comfortable with being ourselves.”

Handstamp: You mentioned clothes; when did it become clear to you that your outward visual presentation would be something you would prioritise?

Joalin: “Not long ago. When I was in Mexico, I was in a small beach town, where everybody wore flip-flops and shorts. Then when I came to Finland, I started making music and spending time in Helsinki, near this fashion scene. So, I’d say for the last four years, I’ve been paying attention to what makes me feel good when I wear it. I remember having my first singing performance and I wore a dress with heels, as I thought that was what women ‘should’ wear on stage. Nowadays, I’ll come out in baggy clothes, dressed in a sort of Chicano hip-hop style and it’s closer to me than that dress. It’s taken me a while to put the pieces together, but I feel good about it now.”

Handstamp: I think it’s a sign of personal growth to realise it’s better to fit OUT than fit in, especially when doing something creatively.

Joalin: “Once you realise how much people admire those who are authentic, you realise how important it is to be yourself. It’s part of the human experience to want to fit in, but I think we have to slowly get more comfortable with being ourselves. It takes time to really understand what it means to be yourself and no longer try to be like those idols that we have.”

Handstamp: Speaking of idols, what is a dance performance that you’ve seen that has really moved you?

Joalin: “The kind of dancing that I’ve always loved is the type you see at battles, where people freestyle. It grew so much that me and my family had an event we organised in Mexico, which involved pretty high-level breaking battles. I think those are my favourite memories of watching people perform. I saw people visit my hometown in Mexico from Europe, from Asia, from everywhere. You see so many athletes dancing, then when you get to the finals, it’s night time, it’s humid and everybody’s a bit tired and sweating on each other but enjoying the show, the crowd’s going crazy. It is a whole package of feelings that were so good to me, but it’s hard to explain how it feels.”

Handstamp: Sounds incredible.

Joalin: “It’s funny really. I don’t like preparing for interviews and I think maybe that’s connected to my love of going with the flow and free-styling, which came from those experiences.”

Handstamp: Being totally honest, depending on who I’m talking to, I will sometimes give myself a back-up, bullet point list of questions, just in case the conversation dries up, but due to your free-styling approach, that has not happened today.

Joalin: “[laughs] I’m so glad!”

Handstamp: What about music? Has any specific music performance impacted you in a similar fashion?

Joalin: “I have been to a maximum of maybe 10 concerts, so I don’t have that many to choose from. I did go to Coachella two or three years ago and saw Peso Pluma live. It was amazing to watch him perform live. It was Mexican music, with a whole band. It felt so passionate, raw and exciting. I’ve also seen RAYE live and she’s an incredible singer, but I connect more with singing that’s less perfect, if you know what I mean. Sometimes it can feel like that artist isn’t even there.”

Handstamp: The new EP is out, how are you feeling about performing these songs in a live room?

Joalin: “I’m always excited to do it. I take a lot of time between projects and this one came together the fastest of anything I’ve done before. So, I still feel really in the moment, still living in that world, which is important.”

Handstamp: Well, I hope the people who come to see you create a raw, exciting environment and are ok with sweating on each other.

Joalin: “[laughs] I hope so.”

The latest Joalin release Perspectiva was released in July 2026 via LDN Records. Subscribe to Handstamp Substack for future interviews. Follow @itshandstamp on social media and just bloody listen to Chief Springs on your chosen platform, will you? Illustrations by Alice Bowsher.

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I’ve previously written about the mad, exasperating couple of years I’ve had. When bound to the sofa for months, I couldn’t have foreseen the life I’m currently living, as I ease myself back to normality. Without those setbacks, I would not have the perspective on my own achievements that I’ve gained.

A few months ago, I spoke to James Graham – songwriter and vocalist of Scottish alternative rock band The Twilight Sad. It is almost certainly the most moved I’ve been by a Handstamp conversation, as we talked about the sacrifices necessary for the frontman to return to stage and a unique personal turning point that guided his pursuit of music. However, we started at square one.

James Graham: “I went to school in Kilsyth, but lived in a farming village about three miles away from there. We had about five streets, a school, a bowling green and a pub. Now, after leaving to chase the city, see the world and live that life, I’ve ended up back in a small village.”

Handstamp: So, did you grow up on a farm?

James Graham: “Nah, my dad grew up in Kilsyth and wanted to be close to it, but not quite in it. That’s actually how I met Andy, my bandmate, on the first day of high school, he was the first person to make friends with me. We grew up together.”

Handstamp: Were you surrounded by music at home?

James Graham: “Not really. My mum liked music and was in a band when she was younger but wasn’t going out to buy records really. My sister’s room was next to mine and all the indie music from that time came through the walls and I absorbed it that way. Then at high school, Andy became my teacher, giving me CDs to take home and listen to.”

“That’s actually how I met Andy, my bandmate, on the first day of high school, he was the first person to make friends with me. We grew up together.”

Handstamp: When you met Andy and your enthusiasm for music reached another level, did you go to see live shows right away?

James Graham: “Well, the first thing we bonded over was our love of Manic Street Preachers. I had seen them on Top of the Pops one night, just after Everything Must Go came out and it really clicked for me. Then at the supermarket the next day, I picked the CD up and hid it under the bread so my mum didn’t see it until we were checking out and I was like ‘surprise! My first ever gig was the Manics at the SECC in Glasgow, my sister had bought me the ticket for my birthday and that was definitely the moment I realised that this was going to be a big part of my life. It felt like the first experience of a drug, but I wasn’t on drugs because I was 12.”

Handstamp: Was Andy at that show with you then?

James Graham: “I’m not sure if he was at that show, but after that point, we went to every gig together.”

Handstamp: I love those stories where an artist can identify a moment that they really threw themselves into music. You hiding the CD from your mum is great and it’s worth noting that many parents would have still had that returned to the shelf, so it’s really a potential turning point in your life.

James Graham: “I think I’d just exhausted her so much that day, that she would have done anything to shut me up. [laughs]”

Handstamp: Well, the Twilight Sad fans reading this will be relieved that your mum was so ambivalent that day.

James Graham: “Well, she’s influenced me in so many ways, but now that I think about it, without that moment, a lot of things wouldn’t have happened. Since then, we’ve played with the Manic Street Preachers, when my mum was still alive and she was there. A real 360 moment. I’d never thought about it that deeply. The knock-on effect is sort of blowing my head off, to be honest.”

Handstamp: So, when you attended that first show, what parts of the show made its mark on you?

James Graham: “I’d never seen passion like that before. People were unashamedly passionate about those songs. Inhibitions were out of the window and it blew my mind seeing the sheer joy.”

Handstamp: That’s beautiful.

James Graham: “Yeah, well it wasn’t all beautiful. The Boo Radleys were the openers and they had pints chucked at them throughout. So, to go from that to total euphoria was an experience.”

Handstamp: I experienced something similar early. I went to see Red Hot Chili Peppers when I was a teenager and the opening band were bottled off stage.

James Graham: “Sounds like a horrible situation. I’ve never been bottled but we were opening for The Smashing Pumpkins around 2006, 2007 and the front row just gave us the finger the whole time.”

Handstamp: I don’t see how your music would go down that badly at The Smashing Pumpkins show.

James Graham: “Oh, it was just like ‘get off Billy’s stage’. Nobody would have been good enough. They were just like ‘who the fuck are these Scottish guys that think they can grace Billy’s stage?’. They’re all learning experiences. I have probably been in most live performance situations now, having played all types of stage and I wouldn’t have been able to do that if I didn’t have those experiences in the early stages.”

Handstamp: Certainly. I’ve never reached your heights but have played a decent amount of shows. I’ve been heckled by a guy in a morph suit, I’ve played to one family on a huge field in a cover’s festival that we should not have been booked on….

James Graham: “Oh no. I was recently talking to somebody about a show in Cork, where there was maybe five people in attendance. At the time it was totally devastating, because it was part of a proper tour. But there was one guy at the front, wearing our t-shirt and he had the fucking time of his life. Looking back now, while it may have not been nice for me, just imagine how good it would have been for that guy. Imagine your favourite band was playing exclusively for you. Quite the experience.”

Handstamp: Private show!

James Graham: “Exactly. Just not the type of private shows that makes people loads of money.”

Handstamp: In your teenage years, where would you go to see live shows then?

James Graham: “Glasgow was our local city, so we’d go there. The best venue in the city and in the world, in my opinion, is Barrowland Ballroom. It’s got nostalgia, history, the wooden sprung floor, all the things you’d want in a venue. My great grandfather actually helped lay the sprung floor. The area has never been the fanciest part in the city, which I liked. The surrounding area has been gentrified a bit now, so there’s both the threat of violence AND the threat of good coffee now.”

Handstamp: What about smaller rooms?

James Graham: “There’s King Tut’s Wah Wah Hut, which is 300 capacity and a bit of a rite of passage for local acts.”

Handstamp: Famously, Oasis broke through there I believe.

James Graham: “Yeah. My friend John Paul looks after most gigs there now. He’s the exact kind of guy you want to see when you turn up to play a gig. A lot of places, you’ll arrive and be treated like a bad smell.”

Handstamp: Outside of the first, can you pinpoint a show you’ve attended that has made the biggest impact on you?

James Graham: “A lot of the best sets I’ve ever seen, we’ve been the support band. We’ve been so lucky to support our heroes. To play, then get to watch the people who are the reason you are doing it in the first place is so special. We’ve played with The Cure so much now, which has given us the opportunity to play our music on some of the most famous stages in the world. Every gig on the last tour they did, before the latest record, I wanted to go and watch their gig every night as a fan and I watched every soundcheck too. To hear them play so regularly had a huge impact on me. The album they were touring is about grief, as Robert has lost some important people to him and I was going through something similar at the time. To watch him, the person, not the rock star, play those songs every night, pouring his heart out in some of the most amazing spaces in the world, that really affected me. It even helped me write our latest record.”

“I knew going into the tour that it would have to be a little bit different to our normal tours. I had my own battle with my health, which meant that I had to do it properly and prioritise the most important part of the day – the hour and a half that we’re on stage.”

Handstamp: How do you feel about having a relationship like that with a hero of yours?

James Graham: “He’s a friend now, which is amazing. Sometimes I feel like I have to separate Robert from the Robert Smith that I have admired and loved for so long. When you strip it all back, he’s just a passionate guy who loves playing music. It’s a great feeling to know that somebody who is so popular and such a genius still has the passion to talk to other musicians about their gig. He’s on stage for three hours every night, but he loves it.”

Handstamp: I love how much he values fostering talent. I have friends who played a festival he curated and they feel similarly about him. It’s especially so impressive because he’s been a known musician for so long and some in his position would have become jaded by decades of success.

James Graham: “Yeah, people can be really disappointing. Age doesn’t seem to fill many people with knowledge, whereas Robert is special.”

Handstamp: He features on your latest record, It’s The Long Goodbye…

James Graham: “He’s on three tracks, yeah.”

Handstamp: How have you felt about sharing the music from the record in a live environment?

James Graham: “I am still processing it all, if I’m being completely honest with you. I knew going into the tour that it would have to be a little bit different to our normal tours. I had my own battle with my health, which meant that I had to do it properly and prioritise the most important part of the day – the hour and a half that we’re on stage. I was 41 when we started touring the album, I’m 42 now and I wasn’t sure how I would cope, physically or mentally to be honest with you..”

Handstamp: What big changes have you made?

James Graham: “I did the tour sober. I would usually drink before a show to settle my nerves and anxiety, as I’m a very anxious person. I’ve never been happier with how I’ve approached things and how I’ve sang on this tour, because I know I prepared and couldn’t have done more. The songs I sing are always very personal but on this album even more so, so I knew it would be quite hard, but I think doing it helped me. I would not have been able to tour a year ago, so I feel really proud of myself, absolutely knackered but really proud. I was lucky to be surrounded by brilliant people, who were focused on putting on a great show. It was a cathartic experience.”

Handstamp: As somebody who has also had to make some sacrifices over the last year or so, due to health challenges, I can relate to how much more these achievements can mean under those circumstances.

James Graham: “100%. I really didn’t know if I’d be able to do it. Before the tour, I was walking a lot, to try and get myself in some sort of shape, as well as a better headspace. I also had to be ready to be away from my family, which is tough. When I was ill and my mum was ill, I was so focused on trying to be a dad, son and husband. All the other stuff was not even on my radar, I was just getting up every day to be a father, husband and a member of society who could do something. Luckily, when we did return, people seemed to like the record, which made getting up and playing the songs to people much easier.”

The latest The Twilight Sad record It’s the Long Goodbye was released in March 2026 via Rock Action Records. Subscribe to Handstamp Substack for future interviews. Follow @itshandstamp on social media and just bloody listen to Chief Springs on your chosen platform, will you? Illustrations by Alice Bowsher.

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I’ll hold my hands up. It’s been too long and I’m big enough to admit it. I abandoned you. Between a new job, planning a major life event and consuming a relentless diet of sport broadcasting, I haven’t found the time to bash these out at quite the rate you deserve.

What I have found the time to do, however, is attend a weird amount of mega shows. Two trips to the nosebleeds of Wembley Stadium and a boujee evening in O2 Arena hospitality later, here I am to talk live music.

Together, Adèle Trottier-Rivard and Nicolas Basque form Bibi Club – a Canadian alternative indie pop duo, whose most recent album Amaro was shortlisted for the 2026 Polaris Music Prize.

A few months ago, the couple lent me some time to talk about the record, but first shared their respective musical upbringing.

Nicolas: “I grew up in the suburbs of Montreal. Adèle grew up in the city. I was in the less exciting part.”

Handstamp: Adèle, I know your father is a musician of note, so did you grow up with music consuming your household?

Adèle: “Yes, it was all around me. My parents had a giant library in our house, just a wall of CDs, music everywhere. So, at some point, I started to explore and listen to some of it. I discovered so much music that way. Big part of my childhood, for sure.”

Handstamp: What about you, Nicolas?

Nicolas: “My father was also a big music fan and his range of taste was wide. So, I would listen to so much music. We would also have DIY punk bands play locally and if there was an event, I’d go to see those groups.”

Handstamp: Would you venture into the city?

Nicolas: “I would. Montreal was starting to become a bigger place for bands to stop at that time. I used to go and sleep at the ticket stand, to make sure I could get tickets. I even saw Nirvana in Montreal, before Kurt Cobain died. I saw them at a time when they’d become known as slightly less cool, so people were giving tickets away outside the venue, which is crazy.”

Handstamp: It’s incredible to even imagine a time when they were considered less cool, given their legacy. Do you remember any of the other shows you slept outside for?

Nicolas: “I remember sleeping for Pearl Jam, which is slightly less my world now, but still cool. I slept for Primus, which I probably didn’t need to do, to be honest.”

Handstamp: That’s an incredible level of commitment to live shows.

Nicolas: “Right, now you just have to wake up and open your computer to wait.”

Handstamp: Exactly, now you have to wait a year in an online queue just to see the outrageous ticket price, before deciding you’re not going to pay it.

Nicolas: “I even remember that when we slept there, there would sometimes be a bigger dude that would show up in the morning, take our spot and buy 100 tickets. Those scalpers would just tell us to move down and we’d be scared of them.”

Handstamp: Wow, law of the jungle stuff. The big guys win again. Don’t love that. Adèle, I guess you had more direct access to the live scene, given your life in the city. What was your connection to gigs growing up?

Adèle: “Well, I would go to a lot of shows but I would never sleep the whole night outside, I would arrive at like 5am to get in line. I had my little metal phase, which is something I share with Nico. I was going to see a lot of metal shows with my friend. I was also touring with my parents and sister at the time, so I would travel a lot, discovering a lot of venues, especially here in Quebec. I would help my dad clear up after shows, rolling cables and everything. I loved it.”

Handstamp: Ok, so you developed your cable management skills early. It’s very important, it can get messy.

Adèle: “Oh, I love it when it’s nice and clean.”

Handstamp: Very satisfying. I took a Music Technology course in my teens and we spent weeks on cable management. Everybody in the class was so desperate to move on, they were so sick of it. Do you remember what your first experience seeing a live show was?

Adèle: “I can’t tell you exactly, but I do have some amazing early memories. I remember going to see Neil Young with my sister and we were the youngest people there, singing every lyric. Metallica was memorable too, but I can’t remember the first one. Maybe it was my dad, to be honest.”

“It was very complicated in my head at the time, I wasn’t comfortable. But on the other hand, I was still living it, touring with him and accepting it.”

Handstamp: It’s quite unique to be introduced to live music through your family performing, as you have skin in the game. What was it like watching your parent perform live in front of crowds from young?

Adèle: “I was always comfortable with the experience, playing around backstage with my sister while my father played. It started so early in my life, so I felt comfortable with it as part of my childhood, but when I started going to school, I was really shy about it. I didn’t want people to talk to me about my father’s career. It was very complicated in my head at the time, I wasn’t comfortable. But on the other hand, I was still living it, touring with him and accepting it.”

Handstamp: I would imagine that’s quite common in your situation. At that age, I think you sort of shrink and minimise the things that are actually worth celebrating, just because they make you different in a way you don’t appreciate at the time. As you’ve gotten older, I suspect you’ve started to appreciate how cool it was. Nico, do you remember what your first show was?

Nico: “I would have gone with my parents. One thing that is really weird is that I remember seeing Adèle’s dad when I was really young. My parents took me to a show at a venue in Montreal that has now been shut down, which is a shame because we need that type of venue right now. Anyway, it wasn’t my kind of music at the time, but I remember being so impressed by the amount of guitars on stage and the musicianship. I remember liking the feeling of being in a room with a bunch of people and being amazed by the mise-en-scene of it all. Soon after that, I went to see some weirder musical theatre and I was into all the theatrics of it all.”

Handstamp: I can relate. For the first 10 shows of my life, the music was maybe in fifth place, in terms of importance to me. The environment, the dynamic between crowd and artist, the spectacle and the sheer logistics behind putting something that impressive on, that’s what blew me away. I’ve now played a fair share of live shows myself and I have come to realise that artists probably overestimate just how much the audience cares about the levels of their personal performance, it’s just one part of it.

“The vulnerability of the artist on stage is what is the most important thing for the crowd to see. It allows them to see that even when things are broken, you can get through it and survive it.”

Adèle: “For me, it’s about the presence of the artist on stage. I’ve been to shows where the artist isn’t even looking at the crowd but it works somehow. It feels quite mystical, some people just have natural presence.”

Handstamp: Artists being comfortable with their own presence is key. How many times have we all been to a show and a performer has made a mistake, then the most entertaining part is how they recover from it, even having a little bit of fun with the audience? We spend so much time scrutinising ourselves, but sometimes the fuck ups are the best part.

Nico: “I think about that all the time. When I’m really tired on tour or have an extremely stressful moment before a show, I realise that it’s probably more entertaining if I fall unconscious on stage, or if I break a string then have to change it really fast.’

“One time, we were on tour in Europe and a good friend of ours died in an accident. We kept going as we had 3 shows left. We played in Brighton and I felt totally disconnected. Then the next day we played in London, which we love because it’s such a music city. The show went really well, but then at the end Adele took her water bottle and poured water all over her synth. It wasn’t even a crazy, punky thing or anything...”

Adèle: “It was a glitch, I think. I don’t know what happened. I took a sip, then just poured it out for a few seconds, before realising what I was doing. It fried my synth.”

Nico: “We had our management in the room and they were like ‘uh oh’..’

Adèle: “Yeah, I turned the synth off and Nico told me everything was going to be fine.”

Nico: “Well, it threw me, but we had two songs left and I just told her I had it under control. I played Adele’s parts on guitar, even though I don’t really know what she plays, but it went well. Somehow, it worked and it made it even more special. When we analysed it, we felt like it was our friend visiting us and telling us to just have fun with it, because that’s what is important. The vulnerability of the artist on stage is what is the most important thing for the crowd to see. It allows them to see that even when things are broken, you can get through it and survive it. That vulnerability is how we build community with the people who come to our shows, because they enjoy the catharsis of it.”

Handstamp: Incredible story. A one-off, out-of-body experience.

Adèle: “Absolutely.”

Nico: “The night before, I had a bit of meltdown and we were determined not to go down that hole again.”

Handstamp: That’s another interesting thing about the performer-audience dynamic though. If you do anything that seems like it has intent behind it, they may have perceived it as an avant-garde act of artistic expression, like performance art. They may have thought it was an anti-synth statement of sorts.

Nico: “[laughs] right!”

Handstamp: Where are the best places to see live music in Montreal now?

Nico: “There is a group of venues, owned by Mauro from the band Godspeed You! Black Emperor and a group of others. One is called Casa del Popolo, which is around 100-capacity but is well-built and puts on great shows. It’s one of the last places small artists can make money. Then, across the street, there’s a bigger venue called La Sala Rossa and that’s a different format, with maybe a 500 capacity.”

Adèle: “Yeah, there are a few different venues so close to each other. So, you can have three shows at the same time and everyone will go for a beer together after. It’s a great spot.”

Handstamp: Can each of you pinpoint a show that has had the biggest impact on you?

Adèle: “I have three. Gillian Welch from Nashville performed with her partner in Montreal at Le National. I cried the whole show, because their two voices blended in such a magical way that I’ve never experienced before. It moved me, it was really, really special.’

“Second is Nick Cave, more recently. Nico and I went together. It was an incredible lesson of filling the stage. About a week before that, I saw PJ Harvey, which was so empowering and real. We, as an audience, really felt like we were sharing the moment with her.”

Handstamp: What a week of music. Two legends, also connected to each other. What about you, Nico?

Nico: “I remember when I was at school, starting to study music, to please my parents, I did two degrees at the same time, Music and Science, which was tricky. I went alone to see a musical theatre show at Theatre Rialto, which is an iconic venue in Montreal. There was a crazy play, with a live band that was really musically interesting. It was a show about becoming yourself. It was by a guy called Dominic Champagne, who went on to do The Beatles’ LOVE at Cirque Du Soleil. I loved that show and it made me cancel a load of my science classes, as I decided to practice guitar for eight hours a day because I wanted to fully pursue music. It changed my life. I actually have met that director a few times since then, but I never told him, I don’t know why…”

Handstamp: Well, indirectly, you’ve told him now!

Nico: “Well, I coached his son at a school that I teach composition at sometimes. He was not interested in talking about it, because he doesn’t want to talk about his celebrity dad.”

Handstamp: …and there it is, the full circle!

The latest Bibi Club record Amaro was released in February 2026 via Secret City Recordings. Subscribe to Handstamp Substack for future interviews. Follow @itshandstamp on social media and just bloody listen to Chief Springs on your chosen platform, will you? Illustrations by Alice Bowsher.

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Last week was just one of those weeks.

After a rip-roaring midweek Mac DeMarco show in South London, I spoke to the man himself - largely about mistaken identity and hard-wearing, prison-made jeans. Two days later, I ventured west to enjoy balcony seating for a completely electric evening with Father John Misty. This mid-30s white boy was eating, as they say.

On both occasions, I saw performers who have grown totally comfortable on stage and appear void of all inhibitions. As somebody with comparatively low-level experience as a ‘frontman’, it’s inspiring for me to witness. A few weeks ago, I discussed the cultivation of a care-free on-stage persona with Joe Hicklin of rock duo Big Special. However, first we explored the musical education that he and bandmate Callum Moloney gained in the West Midlands of the UK.

Joe: “I grew up on Greatest Hits compilations. We had the classics, from Michael Jackson, Prince, ABBA and Queen. Queen’s was my first big one, when it comes to music. Then when I was older, when I would visit my dad, he would show me more stuff from his era, like Jimi Hendrix and Free. Then you go off on your own and find your own stuff, which is when I got really into Red Hot Chili Peppers, which was the first band that I found and loved.”

Handstamp: Similar trajectory here. The Beatles was my entry point, then the Chili Peppers became an obsession as a teenager. What was your entry point to music, Callum?

Callum: “Mine was quite Midlands-centric actually, mainly through my dad’s record collection. Black Sabbath was a big one, of course. He was also a big Sex Pistols fan, Ramones too. Then I ventured out by finding Mike Skinner, the first record I loved outside of my dad’s collection was The Streets’ Original Pirate Material. I loved that it was from the Midlands and my dad hadn’t heard of it. I loved being able to show up my dad that way, cool moment. But over the years, as a drummer, I’ve tried to listen to as much as I can and find what I would be interested in playing. When I met Joe, he was the Midlands Bob Dylan, he was playing folk music and introduced me to so much great stuff - Townes Van Zandt and other….”

Joe: “…sad shit...”

Callum: “[laughs] yeah, sad shit.”

Handstamp: It’s good to have that balance. It’s great that he was able to bring a little bit of misery in your life, where needed.

Joe: “[laughs]..and I still do, to this day.”

“I never wanted it to be a conscious thing, I just wanted to break down the barrier so I naturally felt comfortable acting a way that I wouldn’t anywhere else.”

Handstamp: Did you meet in Birmingham?

Callum: “Yeah, at college. I’m from North Birmingham and Joe’s from Walsall, so we were about 10 miles apart, but we both did a BTEC in Music Performance at Matthew Boulton College in the city. We owe them a lot, to be honest. It was like a film on the first day of college, when the tutor said ‘you play drums, you play guitar, go make some tunes together.’ Heather Young was the tutor, so thanks to her.”

Handstamp: That’s great, but it’s something you wouldn’t find believable in a music biopic. Feels a bit on-the-nose.

Joe: “[laughs] absolutely.”

Handstamp: As you were both studying, I assume you threw yourself into the city’s live scene?

Callum: “I think we were in the prime era of gigs in Birmingham, before everything started closing. We had the Carling Academy, before it turned into the O2. That was amazing, because it was one of the multi-sized venues where you had 200-cap, 500-cap, 1000-cap. I went to see so many shows there. Then The Rainbow in Digbeth, where all the raves would happen.”

Joe: “Then there was Scruffy Murphy’s, the underground metal pub. There would be all sorts of gigs there. A place called Sound Bar, where we’d put gigs on sometimes. Then of course, the NEC, the arena for all the big deals that come to town.”

Callum: “It’s all turned into other things now, but it was very sceney at the time. The problem with the smaller places is that the industry eventually cottoned on to all the gigs being half full. Loads of gigs were happening but they weren’t always busy.”

Handstamp: That could be a Midlands thing. I’ve spent a lot of my time in Leicester and there are similar struggles, in terms of attracting touring bands, keeping DIY scenes alive due to fading public interest and a lack of funding. One example that always stands out to me was when I saw Albert Hammond JR from The Strokes play to about 6 people in Leicester and I’m pretty sure he’d played Jimmy Kimmel or something else that same week. Humbling.

Callum: “The mad thing is, you’ve got Nottingham round the corner and whenever we announce a tour, Nottingham is the first place to sell out, no matter the size of venue. They’re just hungry for it there and it’s just down the road.”

Handstamp: There is something different about Nottingham, compared to other Midlands cities. Rock City and Rescue Rooms right next to each other, excellent venues. Going back briefly, what was the first show you ever saw?

Joe: “My dad took me and a mate to see Red Hot Chili Peppers in Hyde Park around 2003. The bill was Chicks on Speed, James Brown and the Chili Peppers. I was a little fat kid, it was my first gig and there were 80,000 people there, it blew my mind. Seeing James Brown as well, pretty great.”

Handstamp: I went to that tour also and Chicks on Speed did not get a warm reception.

Joe: “Yeah, they were booed off stage at Hyde Park and ran off stage crying. It was a bad decision on the billing.”

Handstamp: As you said, seeing James Brown is a bucket list experience but half of the set was just his band chanting his name, I seem to remember.

Joe: “I don’t really remember that. I was just awestruck to be in the same space as people like James Brown. It was supposed to be Pixies supporting, which is why I started listening to Pixies, I got a burned CD of Doolittle in preparation for the show.”

Handstamp: There’s something about the Chili Peppers that really captured the imagination for our generation.

Joe: “Absolutely.”

Handstamp: What about you, Callum?

Callum: “Me and my sister went to see Busted at the NEC Arena. It blew my little mind. The first gig I remember really wanting to go to after that was Flogging Molly, who I was obsessed with at the time. I saw them at the Carling Academy when I was 13. It was my first sweaty standing gig and I remember thinking it was crazy. My first mosh pit.”

Handstamp: There have been a few people tell me their first gig was Busted, you know? In a recent interview, Chartreuse told me the same.

Callum: “We’re very coded in Busted in our band.”

Joe: “We wear our influences on our sleeves.”

Handstamp: I have to relisten after this call, to see if I can pick that up. Was there a specific gig that made you really want to perform?

Callum: “I was really lucky, because my neighbour Kyle was a drummer in a thrash metal band. He was a sort of older brother figure to me when I was 10, so I saw his band a lot when I was a kid. It was so loud and abrasive, I thought it was a crazy thing to do in front of people. I don’t remember the name of the band and couldn’t tell you a tune but I just remember watching him batter the kit. Every time he got off stage, I’d pester him to have a go. Then later on, I saw Chris Cornell perform with Soundgarden at Download, I think. I was really into grunge at the time and that gig just felt transformative. I remember thinking I wanted to be involved in live music from that night.”

Handstamp: Joe?

Joe: “There was an open mic night that a few of my friends would go to. We’d go there because we could get away with drinking underage, at about 15 or 16. I’d been playing in my room for a while and a few of my friends would get up to perform, but I didn’t have the confidence for it. One night though, we were drunk and I got up, got a really good reception playing one of the first songs I had ever written and a few covers. The old guy who ran the bar was well impressed and it was one of the first times I remember wanting to be involved. It was great to see so many people getting up to express themselves. I loved the atmosphere. I’d do that all the time, then I spread out, went to jam nights to play blues music and enjoyed it so much. I loved seeing other people perform, even when it was crap.”

“We didn’t want to have to round up a bunch of people in their thirties and expect them to be on the same wave length, you know?”

Handstamp: Having started Big Special during COVID, I guess you had a unique introduction into what live shows would look like for you as a band. Have you had to reverse-engineer yourself into the live setting?

Joe: “There was a lot of that, yeah. We knew we could do it throughout lockdown, because we trusted that connection that we used to have before. A couple of years before that, we got together to have a jam and I had recorded some stuff that Cal came and recorded drums on. There were so many pinpoint reminders for me throughout the previous decade that me and Cal just gelled doing this stuff. He was the only person I wanted to be involved when this got going. I was always confident that when we were in a room together, we’d be fine. In fact, I remember thinking that years before, when we were in a band together but he went off to uni, I thought that if he just stayed, we’d be able to make a go of it. But I’m glad he did go, because now we’ve had this chance. But yeah, after COVID it felt like starting again really. It was something totally new for us.”

Callum: “I also think we were writing stuff without thinking about how it was going to sound live, which influenced the music. We knew early on that we’d use a track, that just seemed obvious.”

Joe: “Yeah, we didn’t want to have to round up a bunch of people in their thirties and expect them to be on the same wave length, you know?”

Callum: “Yeah, it was always going to be the two of us. We always had an idea of what Big Special was going to be, because we’d worked on the ideas for so long over lockdown and we had about 23 songs by the time we played live.”

Joe: “..and there was a BIG hill of nerves for me to get over. I knew that I wanted to let loose, be a bit wild on stage, not play the guitar and be a vocalist doing spoken word stuff. I’d never really done that before and after the COVID break, for the first few gigs I was really anchored to the spot. Cal used to say I looked like they were taking me to the gallows. But Cal was in his natural habitat and his energy made me more comfortable in my skin, allowed me to start boogying about and be a bit more silly. I always wanted to have that type of cathartic, performative experience.”

Handstamp: It’s beautiful that he was able to unlock your confidence. A great testament of your friendship.

Joe: “I just had that wall of nerves. Drawing off of Cal just broke the wall down, bit by bit. I never wanted it to be a conscious thing, I just wanted to break down the barrier so I naturally felt comfortable acting a way that I wouldn’t anywhere else”

Callum: “Yeah, because there’s only two of us, I think it’s more potent. I think the fact that we’re just two mates of 15 or 16 years makes it a richer broth.”

The latest Big Special EP, O’JOY! was released in June 2026 via SO Recordings. Subscribe to Handstamp Substack for future interviews. Follow @itshandstamp on social media and just bloody listen to Chief Springs on your chosen platform, will you? Illustrations by Alice Bowsher.

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Hi. Handstamp is a weekly music newsletter created by me, Josh Coyne. In each edition, I talk to a creative person about live performances that have meant something to them. Previous guests include Anna B Savage, Cassandra Jenkins, Chastity Belt, Chet Faker, Christian Lee Hutson, Courtney Marie Andrews, Craig Finn, Gold Panda, Holy Fuck, Idlewild, Jasmine.4.t, Jason Stewart, Madi Diaz, Mat Baynton, NoSo, Public Service Broadcasting, Rio Kosta, Searows, Uwade and We Are Scientists.

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A few years ago, my friend made one of the boldest moves possible - inviting somebody to a live show on a first date. Risk level may be low for some, but when you haven’t discussed personal music taste yet, you may be safer letting that spare ticket go to a friend.

Had they discussed their shared love of experimental art at length, it would have been much smoother sailing, but neither of them knew quite how out-there the show would be. The band made some bold choices and my friend found their date’s eyes burning a hole through their skull, until they left early to avoid additional awkwardness.

A few weeks ago, I told my friend’s story to British progressive folk musician Richard Dawson, who certainly knows a thing or two about both bending performance expectations and keeping an audience engaged. We explored the shows that shaped his solo output and that of his band, Hen Ogledd, but only after he revisited his first gig experience.

Richard Dawson: “I didn’t really go to concerts when I was a kid. My first gig was when I was maybe 16 or 17, which was Korn, supported by Incubus.”

Handstamp: How would you describe the energy in that room?

Richard Dawson: “Very young and very male. I didn’t really enjoy it, to be honest. Not my cup of tea. I loved the first album, but I don’t really love being in a crowd, which I learned at my first gig. I did crowd surf, but then I just sat down at the back of the room and took stock.”

Handstamp: You crowd surfed on your very first show? That’s pretty major.

Richard: “Yeah, but only once. I had seen videos and I was a daft young lad, so decided to do it. Then after I was deposited at the front and shooed away, I just had a little sit down, as it’s all very tiring.”

Handstamp: That dislike of crowds, has it persisted?

Richard: “Yeah, I love gigs but there’s something about being boxed in and not having control of your immediate environment, you know? I like having a sit down. I didn’t really get into going to gigs until after I was already playing them myself. I started playing when I was 15, but then started going to other people’s gigs when I was about 20. There was a good scene in Newcastle around that time. A lot of really good pub venues. It was really cooking at one point.”

Handstamp: Was that very much a DIY scene?

Richard: “It was. It’s ebbed and flowed over the years, but Newcastle has always had that kind of spirit, of just making it happen. It’s not always visited by touring bands and it’s so far removed from what’s happening in London. It’s always been a creative place and very supportive, it’s never really been a competitive scene like you’d maybe get in somewhere like Manchester, or Glasgow, from my limited experience. Newcastle is a centre of creativity in lots of areas and that shows through in the music that comes out of it. I live about a half mile away from George Stephenson’s birthplace, so the world’s railways began here, the first electrically lit street, some of the first bridges. There are so many engineering feats and now the Life Science Centre is a leader in gene research. So, I like to think it’s always been an underrated but fizzy place, where people just make things happen.”

Handstamp: What are some of the standout moments of performance you’ve experience in the city?

Richard: “The one that springs to my mind is when Group Doueh and Omar Suleiman played the original Star and Shadow. They put a scorching show there, it was just musically incredible. Oh, hello Trouble…this is my shadow…”

*at this point, Richard dons a new accessory – his cat, Trouble, who sits around his shoulders like a scarf.

Richard: “I’ve seen countless gigs by Nev Clay, maybe hundreds. He’s a beloved songwriter from around here but I’ve seen him so many times that his gigs meld together in one big mush for me. Hopefully I still get to see him a hundred times more.’

“Then I’ve only heard tell of this gig that Jazzfinger played, I didn’t go. But they played a gig at The Tap and Spile, where they released hundreds of live crickets. They had checked with the pub owner, asking if it was ok if they released them during the show and he was like ‘yeah, no probs.’ They released them and they just vanished all over the premises. I lived with Ben from Jazzfinger afterwards and there was a cricket living behind the fridge, chirping. So, I didn’t attend the show, but I still feel part of it.”

Handstamp: That, is incredible. Do you think the pub owner just wasn’t listening to the question?

Richard: “Maybe not. They had an interesting energy there, but it has now been converted, I think it was a jewellers for a while. But yeah, they were kind of sketchy. [laughs]”

Handstamp: I wonder if the jewellers had to deal with the crickets. Well, that’s certainly a bold attempt to make your show immersive. Sometimes the more experimental the show, the more memorable it becomes, I guess. I have a good friend who took a first date to a show where the artist spent an extended chunk of the set playing with one of those Drinking Bird toys and somehow making sound through it.

Richard: “…and are they still together?”

Handstamp: They are not. That was the first and final date.

Richard: “[laughs] sounds about right.”

“If there were videos of the 15 years of gigs I played before I got signed and started getting gigs outside of Newcastle, it would be devastating.”

Handstamp: I wonder if there was anybody on a first date during cricket-gate. I ask almost everybody this, but some artists’ ability to enjoy live shows from the audience diminishes the longer they do it. How has your relationship with attending concerts developed over the years?

Richard: “I’m naturally quite critical now, which I’m trying to stop because it’s really poor. If I’m enjoying something, I start to think about how it could be improve, almost as though I have created it and it’s mine to improve. It’s such a dick move and I am trying to catch myself doing it. The other thing I struggle with now is not being able to be backstage, not being able to have a lie down when I want. I also just love being involved, from sound checks, the feeling of backstage and walking the corridors. I feel unsettled when I’m just in the audience space now. I’ve been really lucky for the last few years to fill up some mid-sized venues, but even still, I will get to the end of the show and really think that people won’t like a stupid thing I said, or they hated a certain song or they just think I’m a knobhead. Maybe I’ve become a bit more vulnerable as I’ve gotten older. I now really appreciate the importance of audience generosity and them encouraging performers, especially younger performers, because that can make a big impact on them. So, when I’m in a crowd, I’m trying to be a more active and supportive audience member.”

Handstamp: You’re bang on. Sorry to be a cliché, but more than ever, the idea of people moving from behind the screen, putting themselves out there, platforming themselves on stage to express themselves is pretty courageous. The more AI slop and hyper-contrived imagery we’re handed, the more crucial these things seem, so why not support it with your whole self?

Richard: “The world can seem more cruel these days. I’m not sure it is, I think people are good by and large, but with the prevalence of social media and the fact that you can be videoed at all times makes it seem that way. When I was cutting my teeth, if there were videos of the 15 years of gigs I played before I got signed and started getting gigs outside of Newcastle, it would be devastating. They would be objectively quite bad and people would be tearing me apart. Some people are fantastic when they’re young and the quality is very professional much earlier, but I can see why a lot of people get totally discouraged, as the potential to get ripped to shreds online is so high. We could be losing so much good music that way. I feel very grateful to have cut my teeth before I had to worry about it. There ARE some very embarrassing videos to find, but not many.”

Handstamp: People definitely come out more refined now, but that may also be because there’s a generation of emerging artists who are so online and have grown up with a knowledge of how to project themselves. They’ve all been curating their public image for years, on whatever scale.

Richard: “That’s right. I think that probably rubs off on the way they perform too.”

“I can see why a lot of people get totally discouraged, as the potential to get ripped to shreds online is so high. We could be losing so much good music that way.”

Handstamp: Can you pinpoint the show that has made the most profound impact on you?

Richard: “Well, that Group Doueh one that I mentioned is definitely one. Also, another Newcastle show where I saw Faiz Ali Faiz and his group at the Civic Centre, which is a brutalist masterpiece and an incredible building. Seeing those guys perform in that setting was special.’

“Also, I was just in America, which was a mad thing to do, but I saw two concerts. One was by the Saami Brothers, with their father. The dad, Usted Saami, is one of the last masters of a specific microtonal singing style. I got to see them at Big Ears Festival in Knoxville. A life-changing gig.’

“Then in Chicago, I saw Roscoe Mitchell from the Art Ensemble of Chicago. It was incredible. He played almost all single notes for an hour and a half. The odd motif, but mostly just single notes. He describes them as dots on a canvas. In the end, I was tuning into it and it was fantastic. He’s a true great of modern music and jazz, but wasn’t pushing anything and stayed committed to that approach.”

Handstamp: That’s a testament to your comments on being a patient and giving audience member. Some people were probably turned off by that show, but after a while of investing, you ended up transfixed.

Richard: “Totally. Like most of the best works of art, they take a while to latch on to. It’s like film, where they may not be the most approachable and easy to consume, but that makes the pay-off bigger.”

Handstamp: You mentioned the trip to America, why did you describe is as a mad thing to do, beyond the obvious?

Richard: “Well, I had three gigs lined up, which I agreed to last year. Then as we were hitting December last year, I was feeling pretty mixed up about it and freaking out. By the time it came around, I was quite stressed, because a huge part of me didn’t want to go for political reasons, as well as personal stress. But I didn’t want to let people down, as it would cost me, it would cost the label and it would cost people who I knew had already planned to travel to see me. So, wanting to do the gigs won out, but I was still full of stress about it. I will say though, I was reassured by the people I met. So many of them are aghast by what the government is doing. I met an incredible amount of kindness over there. I made myself pretty unwell doing it, but I’m still processing a lot of it, to be honest.”

Handstamp: You can probably take solace in the way you provided a distraction and an outlet to those who are aghast and angry over there. Hen Ogledd’s record Discombobulated came out earlier this year, how are you feeling about sharing those songs in a live environment?

Richard: “Well we have just one eight-hour performance at The Horse Hospital in London. That will be quite free and improvisatory. We thought that a tour would be quite complicated, economically and logistically. It would be such a big endeavour. The album took a long time to get where we wanted to be, so now I think we just want to crack on with other things after that show.”

The latest Hen Ogledd record, Discombobulated was released in February 2026 via Weird World. They play London on Saturday 6^th June. Subscribe to Handstamp Substack for future interviews. Follow @itshandstamp on social media and just bloody listen to Chief Springs on your chosen platform, will you? Illustrations by Alice Bowsher.

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I saw a show last night, in a wildly over-allocated venue. It was a beautiful, but imperfect experience.

A friend and I were quite casual in our approach to the show, dragging our heels outside a nearby pub beforehand. Upon arrival, we found that we had to become circus-level contortionists to catch a peak of maybe a metre of the stage, due to extreme overcrowding. Ultimately, we landed on absorbing the music blind, occasionally catching glimpses through the superfan in front, whose arm will ache this morning in a way that only the irresistible YouTube clout he is probably receiving can soothe.

Can we stop encouraging Lord of the Flies free-for-alls in general admission sections by overselling? Call me crazy, but I believe you should at least have a chance of seeing the stage from any section of a music venue, without camping at the barrier all night.

Before the show, on the walk to the venue, I listened to the album Bless You & Be Well by Chartreuse, a jazz-inspired alternative rock band from the West Midlands of the UK. Unlike what laid ahead of me, the music sounded spacious and unhurried.

A few months ago, I had the chance to speak to Hattie Wilson and Mike Wagstaff of the band, starting with their introduction to live music.

Mike: “It was alright, but the transport links are quite bad in the Black Country, so it was more difficult than it should be to get to Birmingham, where all the shows would be happening. Also, a lot of major bands just miss Birmingham out when they tour, because people just can’t be bothered, because it’s too hard to get to shows.”

Hattie: “That’s happening more and more now. We used to go to Wolverhampton sometimes, rather than Birmingham, to see stuff. Our access to live music wasn’t amazing. My parents were into music, but not THAT much, so I wasn’t going to shows as a kid. Then when I found myself wanting to go to shows with friends, I realised how tough it could be.”

Handstamp: The Civic Hall in Wolverhampton?

Hattie: “That’s the one!”

Handstamp: I’ve seen some incredible shows there. Great room. Do you remember what your first ever live shows were?

Hattie: “I don’t want to tell you..”

Mike: “What was it?”

Hattie: “[laughs] Busted. I guess everyone my age at the time was pretty into them. Mike’s different, his parents LOVE music.”

Mike: “Yeah, mine was Jethro Tull, which is a pretty niche start. It was honestly amazing. I saw them The Symphony Hall in Birmingham. For a first show, it was incredible.”

Handstamp: Do you think that show had a major impact on you wanting to play music?

Mike: “I do. We used to listen to the album Aqualung all the time in the car. I still love that band, in a way. I don’t think it made me want to balance on one leg or play the flute like them, but it definitely generated some excitement in me.”

Handstamp: Let’s not limit ourselves. Maybe your one-leg era is yet to come. Sorry Hattie, but can we revisit Busted?

Hattie: “I saw them at an arena in Birmingham and I loved them at the time, so my mum took me. It was great. It was definitely Busted first, but I can’t completely remember my second proper gig. I think it may have been something like Hadouken!, which was equally as awful.”

Mike: “When did you see…what’s his name?”

Hattie: “Peter Andre? I saw him after Busted, when I was in school. Saw him in a shopping centre.”

Mike: “Didn’t he have an accident or something?”

Hattie: “He fell over, yeah.”

Handstamp: Obviously this would have been post-‘Mysterious Girl’, but was it before the I’m A Celebrity, Get Me Out of Here! appearance?

Hattie: “Honestly, I’m not sure. I was around 13, so I only remember seeing him play in the middle of a shopping centre and there was hardly anyone there, it just felt really strange. I don’t think I went to see him, he just happened to be there, when we were shopping.”

Handstamp: So, you weren’t conscious of just how low of an ebb it could have been for his career at the time, to be performing to an empty shopping centre?

Hattie: “[laughs] no, I just stumbled into it and didn’t think about it much until now.”

Handstamp: Okay, so outside of the shopping centres, where are the best places to see shows in the West Midlands?

Hattie: “In Birmingham, Hare & Hounds is wicked. I also recently went to one, which is a bit more unconventional, called Pan Pan, which was really cool and they have a great soundsystem in there, even though it’s basically just in an old archway in Digbeth.”

Mike: “I need to go there. Then there’s The Night Owl, where they put on a really great jazz night once a month. It’s brilliantly curated, they get amazing players in.”

Handstamp: Speaking of Digbeth, what’s the New Orleans themed bar, where they sometimes put shows on. It’s a pretty unique place.

Mike: “Mama Roux’s?.”

Handstamp: That’s the one. I think it might usually be more of a club, but it’s got character.

Hattie: “That’s still there and they are putting more and more good bands on. Before that, people only went there to go clubbing.”

Handstamp: You recorded the latest album in rural Iceland. How did that solitude effect the process?

“It sounds dramatic, but I didn’t know if I’d even be able to fully return. So, when I was sat on the stage again, it was strange but exciting.”

Mike: “Well, we’ve never done any kind of residential trip to record. So, the ability to just wake up and start recording right away was amazing. Beyond how beautiful Iceland is, the fact that we were able to be there and all get stuck in just changed everything. Then, add in the Iceland factor and it made it pretty surreal.”

Handstamp: Being in one of the most beautiful places on earth is a pretty great bonus. I’d guess you weren’t short of visual inspiration.

Hattie: “The landscapes are incredible, we just couldn’t believe it.”

Handstamp: Now, I hope you’re ok with me asking this. As somebody who has been through some health stuff in the last year or so, I personally have used the opportunity to return to performing music live regularly as a bit of a source of inspiration, just because I enjoy it so much. Hattie, I know that you’ve been through some surgery that you took a while to recover from, have you been similarly spurred on by returning to gigs?

Hattie: “It did help, for sure. I had no idea how long we’d be out of action. When I had my operation, they told me it would be 3 months of recovery, but we had 7 months off and when we went back to playing, that first gig was absolutely mad. I had to go back on stage, still wearing a crutch and it was the first time we played anything from the new record. It was wild. I definitely thought about how that would feel, while I was trying to recover. It sounds dramatic, but I didn’t know if I’d even be able to fully return. So, when I was sat on the stage again, it was strange but exciting. The main thing I was worried about was people seeing me limp on stage, but I can’t hide it, it’s happened. It felt so great to get back to it and now it feels like nothing really happened.”

Handstamp: Well, I’m happy for you. Now, you can take it turns, but what is the most personally impactful show you’ve ever attended?

Hattie: “I have to say, it may be a show I was recently. The band Caroline at KOKO, in London. I don’t know why, but I just wanted to cry. At the end, even though it’s not a particularly emotional ending, you could just see how much they love each other. The show blew me away, absolutely incredible.”

Mike: “For me, we played SXSW a few years ago. One of my favourite artists was playing, a Canadian artist called Sam Tudor, who played twice and I went to see both sets. It was exactly what I was hoping for, he was incredible. He is really special.”

Handstamp: After such a long wait, you’ve been able to play the new music now. How has it been to share that material in a live environment?

Hattie: “These songs are easier to play as a band.”

Mike: “In a way, yeah. Honestly, they make our older songs seem a bit boring now. It’s been great. Everything feels a bit more upbeat and a little less avant garde, if that makes sense. It feels like we’re a real band on stage now and people seem to be responding well.”

Hattie: “We have quite a small fanbase, but we’re finding that the fans we have are welcoming and getting behind us. It’s a really nice feeling.”

The latest Chartreuse record, Bless You & Be Well was released in August 2025 via Communion Records. Subscribe to Handstamp Substack for future interviews, follow @itshandstamp on social media and just bloody listen to Chief Springs on your chosen platform, will you? Illustrations by Alice Bowsher.

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Some things will unexpectedly make you feel grateful for the truly special experiences in your life. I probably don’t reflect on just how privileged I’ve been to see so many incredible live performers at the peak of their powers.

I’ve had a bit of an epiphany this week. The sad reality is that it’s taken a widely-circulated video featuring a gaggle of laughably dressed grifters, seemingly with literally nothing coming through their stage monitors, performing at a highly-confused rally, to make me realise just how fortunate I am. I’m lucky to have enjoyed so many beautiful nights of music and incredibly lucky to have not attended that particular event.

A band I don’t expect to see at a Yaxley-Lennon misery festival is Pigeon. The sartorially sound, culturally diverse, afro-disco, jazz-infused post punk group have far more important work to do. Having recently been championed by Rolling Stone, BBC and The Times, the band currently have gale force wind in their sails.

On the week of the band’s debut album, I spoke to DJ, producer, label co-founder, self-proclaimed ‘binfluencer’ and Pigeon bassist Josh Ludlow. To kick off an enjoyable conversation, he recounted his early musical exposure.

Josh Ludlow: “I grew up in West London. Lots of music in the house. My dad always had a guitar, was always singing, always in bands. So, by the time I was 10 or 11, I was playing in a band with my brother.”

Handstamp: What did that sound like?

Josh Ludlow: “We were listening to a lot of Blink 182 and Green Day, so I imagine it sounded like that. One of the first groups I was in was with Tom (Dream) from Pigeon, when he was about 13 and I was 12. I don’t think we played a gig. But yeah, as long as I can remember, I’ve been playing music.”

Handstamp: In London, there is seemingly unlimited access to live entertainment. Did you tap into that early on?

Josh Ludlow: “100%. The first live shows I went to were at a place in Twickenham called Heatham House, where they would put on Battle of the Bands and open mic nights. It was a crazy thing, where there would be no adults, just loads of kids getting drunk, moshing and doing other things that teenagers do. Those were the first gigs I remember. Not the most professional set-up, but a lot of fun.”

Handstamp: So, for your first live experiences, you likely knew most of the people performing?

Josh Ludlow: “I’d imagine so, yeah. I’m racking my brain, trying to work out what my first ‘proper’ show was. I think that it could have been a festival, like Reading or something. I went there when I was 14.”

Handstamp: Reading was your festival of choice as a teenager?

Josh Ludlow: “Definitely. From first being in rock bands, me and my brother quickly moved to metal. We started a thrash metal band called Mutant. We toured quite a lot, up and down the country. But because of that, we’d go to heavier festivals as well as Reading.”

Handstamp: Who were the stand-out performers during your visits to Reading?

Josh Ludlow: “We saw Slipknot in the early 2000s. They were the biggest band in that world at the time. They were so culturally relevant then, just because they were so freaky. I remember they did the thing where they get everybody to get on the floor, then jump up at once. I don’t know how many people were there, but it felt like it was everyone in the world.”

Handstamp: My first festival was the companion version, in Leeds. Your first one can be quite mind altering, can’t it? It really feels that nothing exists beyond the gates of the festival, just for a few days.

Josh Ludlow: “Absolutely. I am now 36, so I got to experience life without smart phones, especially because I started going out so long ago. I was out doing my thing from 12 years old, basically. At my first festival, nobody had phones, I think maybe my brother had a pager at the time, so could communicate in a way but overall, I think everybody was far more present than they are now. I had a bit of that more recently, when I went to Burning Man a few times. They had no phone service one year, so we were plunged back into that way of life. If you got lost, you wouldn’t see your friends for eight hours, or whatever.”

Handstamp: Festivals before phones were a lot more fun. I remember rumours spreading across the campsites and everybody believing them - random celebrity deaths, surprise headliners and things like that. Nobody will be fooled anymore. I remember once being at Leeds, when Slipknot were supposed to play and a plane flew over the festival, announcing that they had pulled out last minute. There was a collective groan.

Josh Ludlow: “[laughs] that’s pretty epic. That’s how they should announce everything, I reckon. I have a little Slipknot anecdote for you. In one of the groups I played in, called Turbogeist, we ended up sharing a manager with them, he was a great guy. He brought one of the members of Slipknot to one of our gigs, then he hung out afterwards, we had a few drinks and ended up being friends with him. They told us some pretty crazy drinking games that they used to play and we ended up playing some of them, some involving pints of piss. I don’t want to name any names, but it all got a little bit messy.”

Handstamp: Wow. A pint of potential Slipknot piss?

Josh Ludlow: “[laughs] no, your own piss! It was your own piss or however many shots. I’d have to check in with the guys. It was so great hanging with him, because he was the soundest guy and we’d be in SXSW, but nobody would recognise him, because of the mask. If it were a member of any other band as big as them, you wouldn’t have been able to be in the bar, without constant photos, you know?”

“We played three Metallica covers and the local vicar ended up in the mosh pit. I enjoyed it so much, playing metal drums as an energetic youth was good for me, as I’ve always been quite high energy.”

Handstamp: A lovely life, the sweet spot really. You can be in the biggest band in the world and still walk down the street. Genius. Now, you’ll have to tell me about Burning Man, because I’ve heard wild things, I know how it’s talked about, have seen the Mad Max aesthetic, but know very little about what actually goes down.

Josh Ludlow: “It’s interesting. Musically, I can sum it up by saying I had been there for four or five days without seeing a moment of live music. The only music that had been playing was a version of not-great Americanised dance music, Tuluminati type melodic, soft techno. This is around 2017. I was kind of fed up, but stumbled across a tent where there was an eight-piece group playing amazing funk jams. I was so relieved to hear some music that connected with me that I cried. So, that sums up the music policy really.”

Handstamp: So, not a very music-first type of festival..

Josh Ludlow: “It’s just too difficult to have a live group there, because the dust is SERIOUS. After a CDJ’s been there, they have to be opened up, turned inside out, cleaned and put back together. So, if you think about taking your favourite amp or synth there, it just isn’t really feasible.”

Handstamp: That funk group sounds like it may have been a mirage. You’d been out in the desert heat too long, being musically dehydrated…

Josh Ludlow: “[laughs] exactly! But no, that show was great. Tiny tent, which was dressed in a really stylish way. It felt like wandering into a little casbah or something. When I was going there, around 2016, 2017, 2018, that was the vibe. Maybe it’s changed now. There was still lots of really cool things to see. You could see these incredible art cars, which had been worked on for decades. They have lasers that shoot out to space and everything. There are so many experiences you can have there that you’ll never forget.”

Handstamp: It’s great to still be able to get that shot of escapism, similar to those early festivals you went to. Going back a bit, what was it that turned you to the world of metal?

Josh Ludlow: “It was my brother, who was really into playing metal guitar and needed a drummer. The first gig we played together, as Mutant, was at a church next to our school at an open mic type of thing. We played three Metallica covers and the local vicar ended up in the moshpit. I enjoyed it so much, playing metal drums as an energetic youth was good for me, as I’ve always been quite high energy.”

Handstamp: As you’ve played music publicly for years now, what was the last show you really enjoyed as a punter?

Josh Ludlow: “My day job is as a DJ, so I play 60 to 70 gigs a year, all around the world. Every weekend, I’m in a club, watching other DJs, which is fine. Sometimes it’s special and the energy is incredible. However, it’s worlds away from a really impactful live band. The last gig I bought tickets to was Altın Gün, maybe two years ago and I’ll never forget that experience. Watching them play, how good they are at their instruments, how much time has been put into the presentation of the show… incredible. It’s still totally unmatched for me, seeing a truly brilliant live band.”

Handstamp: I love that you can still feel that level of enthusiasm. We’re around the same age and as you age, it’s less common that something can really blow you away. When it happens, you get such a nostalgic thrill.

Josh Ludlow: “Absolutely. I’ve been in bands, I’m not a super proficient musician like some, I have my thing and I go for it when I play, but I know that technically I’ll never be at a super high level, so for that reason, seeing people who are technically brilliant at their instrument or skill just never gets old for me. When we play with Pigeon, because Falle (Nioke, vocals) is such an incredible performer, it still blows me away. We just came back from playing a festival in Norway and it was so much bigger than we expected. There was even a massive runway at the front of the stage, Miley Cyrus style. Falle was completely at home and we all marvelled at him running down there, getting involved, putting on a show. We enjoyed watching him as much as playing ourselves.”

Handstamp: I know you’re based in Hastings, but the majority of the band is based in Margate, right?

Josh Ludlow: “Pretty much, yeah.”

“Seeing people who are technically brilliant at their instrument or skill just never gets old for me. When we play with Pigeon, because Falle is such an incredible performer, it still blows me away.”

Handstamp: I know the scene has grown enormously there in the last decade. Are you integrated into that and where are the notable places to play or see live music there?

Josh Ludlow: “Yes, absolutely. It’s a very small place. We play a venue run by a guy called Sammy, called Where Else? He put on our first show, he’s very active in the music scene and has created a hub for local artists and a place for smaller touring acts to stop by. Then there’s Dreamland, where you’ll have bigger acts come through. It’s a good scene. Everyone knows everyone and everybody collaborates.”

Handstamp: The new record OUTTANATIONAL is out now, how are you feeling about sharing the new music in a live environment?

Josh Ludlow: “Really good. It’s been fun. We played the same songs for quite a while, even though Pigeon has performed extremely sporadically, we have played the same tracks for a few years. Playing together live is really fun, we all enjoy it a lot.”

The latest Pigeon record OUTTANATIONAL was released in May 2026 via Memphis Industries. Subscribe to Handstamp Substack for future interviews, follow @itshandstamp on social media and just bloody listen to Chief Springs on your chosen platform, will you? Illustrations by Alice Bowsher.

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There’s nothing quite like a pleasant surprise.

Last week I was taken, last minute, to see Not For Radio – the solo project of Maria Zardoya of The Marias. Having enjoyed her band’s latest record Submarine a great deal and dug what I heard from this endeavour, I was intrigued but had almost no idea what to expect from the performance.

What I found upon arrival was an army of intensely dedicated fans and a pulsating sense of excitement in the Hackney Empire, for night two of her stint at the venue. While it made me feel washed that the feverish hype had passed me by, it was a welcome reminder of just how much a live show can mean to young fans, who have found a new outlet through the Puerto Rican all-rounder.

As far as I knew, the performance could have been Zardoya sat at a piano all night and I’m sure the fans would have happily lapped that up. However, what proceeded was a whirlwind of synth jams, poetry, balletic expression and more confetti than a single stagehand would be comfortable dealing with. The effort and execution behind the show was staggering.

A pleasant surprise indeed and an excellent ad for saying yes to spontaneous gig outings. It left me thinking about how those kind of nights – half-expected but fully felt – are the kind of nights that linger long enough to become an answer in these interviews.

Soon after the show, I sat down to revisit my chat with Lillie Amadea West, who makes ambitious indie rock and alt-pop music under the name LALA LALA. She has absorbed a number of similarly impactful performances that have become reference points for her as a performer and shared them with me in an honest and amusing conversation. However, of course, I started a few steps back, exploring her globetrotting, expansive musical upbringing.

Lillie West: “I lived in London until I was 13 as both of my parents are English, then we moved to LA, but when I was 18, they moved back to England and I moved to Chicago for 8 years. It’s pretty complicated, because I then moved to New Mexico, then Iceland and now I’m back in LA.”

Handstamp: Wow. Quite the journey. I guess the English accent stuck, due to those all-important first 13 years.

Lillie West: “All of my English relatives say I have a strong American accent, but my boyfriend says I couldn’t sound more British, so I don’t know what to believe.”

Handstamp: I don’t hear the American twang, personally. Would you have seen your first live show in England then?

Lillie West: “Yes. My first live show, which I’m sort of tempted to lie about, was…..do you remember Pop Idol?.”

Handstamp: Of course, yeah, I think I voted.

Lillie West: “Right, well, on the first season, he finished third place – Darius. That was my first show.”

Handstamp: Oh my goodness. Darius Danesh! RIP.

Lillie West: “Yeah, I was telling someone about this recently and found out that he had died. I was so sad.”

Handstamp: Very sad stuff. What do you think drew you to Darius, rather than those that finished first and second?

Lillie West: “I have no idea. I was so young, so I barely remember but maybe I’ve always loved an underdog.”

Handstamp: Maybe his hit single ‘Colourblind’ made an impact.

Lillie West: “See, I don’t even remember that. I mainly remember Will Young, who beat Darius of course, and his song ‘Leave Right Now’. I still think that’s a pretty amazing song.”

Handstamp: You know, he has a few of those.

Lillie West: “I haven’t dug that deep into it. But you know, the other day I was doing merch for a friend’s band and I was teaching everybody about Robbie Williams, because as his documentary lays out, he didn’t really translate to America, even though he was so massive in England. They only knew one song, they didn’t even know ‘Angels’!”

Handstamp: Wow, so what DID they know, ‘Let Me Entertain You’?

Lillie West: “Yeah that one, they didn’t know ‘Rock DJ’ either.”

Handstamp: Incredible really, that he could be such a phenomenon here and barely scratch the surface, where so many other exports do. Anyway, Darius Danesh was the first show, what was the first one that you have a better memory of?

Lillie West: “When I moved to America, I saw a lot more shows, but while I was still in London, I saw the band Why? My godmother had to take me, because I wasn’t old enough to go alone. She worked at the Royal Academy of Music and Why? Is a strange, experimental, rock and hip-hop band from Cincinnati, so she was wondering what I’d taken her to.”

Handstamp: Sounds like a real trip. Was that a significant show for you then?

Lillie West: “Well, especially because Yoni (Wolf) from the band produced my last album and I’ve toured with them a couple times.”

Handstamp: Oh, nice full circle then.

Lillie West: “Exactly. In terms of other major shows for me, I always was a huge fan of music and all of my friends were musicians, but I kind of thought it was too late for me for a long time. I never really considered it as a possibility until I moved to Chicago. I remember being a teenager and listening to a lot of rock, then the first band I REALLY liked was Pavement. They were the first band I was obsessed with. So, when I moved to Chicago, where there was a huge DIY scene, it made me realise you don’t necessarily have to be formally trained in any capacity, you can be experimental and make noise music. I realised it can be whatever you want, so that’s when I started making grunge music.”

Handstamp: If Pavement were the first band that resonated with you, that falls in line with that kind of slacker, DIY attitude toward music. It probably felt quite liberating to know that virtuosity isn’t necessarily always the answer.

Lillie West: “Definitely. I mean, I took piano lessons two years ago, then made a piano album, just to see if I could. As I have gotten older, my interest in all that has grown a bit. When I was younger, I did not care about being technically proficient in any way, because that’s not the point. But as you get older, your heart opens a bit more to classical music and all that. Then again, I make ambient music that is improvised, one-note, 6-minute songs too. Both of those worlds interest me now, I guess.”

Handstamp: When you were in Chicago, where would you see live shows?

Lillie West: “There were a lot of DIY venues that had DIY type names, Situations was my favourite. There was one called Rubicon, one called Dustbowl, one called Animal Kingdom. A place called Wally’s World was such a fire hazard that it was crazy. Sometimes just shows at people’s houses.”

Handstamp: So, most places you’d see would have around 100-cap crowds?

Lillie West: “Oh, less! Maybe 50? Very small shows.”

Handstamp: Is that your preferred way of seeing a show, or do you enjoy halls, theatres, arenas, depending on the context?

Lillie West: “Yeah, no preference at all, it really depends. I barely go to DIY shows anymore. I can’t tell if that’s because I’m out of touch or if the rules are just stricter. In LA, its harder to put a show on like that. In Chicago there was just so much unused space, it was cheaper and you could use a warehouse or whatever. But to answer your question, I appreciate all types of shows.”

Handstamp: After eight years in Chicago, you moved to New Mexico. How long were you there for?

Lillie West: “I was in Taos for two years. I would almost never see shows there. It’s such a small, rural place. There was a karaoke night once a week at the local bar, so I would go there. Then I had some friends who would play solo acoustic shows quite a lot. But there is not really a crazy nightlife there.”

Handstamp: What is your go-to karaoke song then?

Lillie West: “’Torn’ by Natalie Imbruglia.”

Handstamp: What a classic. Lovely simple guitar solo in that. So, then you moved to Iceland, what an incredible shift from rural New Mexico.

Lillie West: “It was. I did an art residence in a town on the east coast of Iceland. I met a lot of people and ended up living there for two years.”

Handstamp: Is there a connection between your time in Iceland and you making ambient music?

Lillie West: “Well, that’s where I started making it, I was making field recordings, which is very predictable. But yeah, there is a connection. A lot of people go there, then start making experimental music with experimental ice-crunching sounds.”

Handstamp: In terms of live music, I really don’t have an idea of the scene in Iceland. What can you say about it?

Lillie West: “They have some cool venues in Reykjavik and Iceland Airwaves, the festival is there. I would see my friends’ band play all the time, but otherwise there is a massive DJ and party scene that wasn’t really a part of. I was working out of this studio called INNI, so I’d see all of the artists from there perform at Airwaves.”

Handstamp: What’s the local attitude toward some of the main exports like Sigur Ros and Bjork?

Lillie West: “Pretty good. Iceland is quite small, so they’re just…. around, you know? Jonsi from Sigur Ros has a big family, they run a perfumery together. Some are at INNI and some are at the perfumery and they all collaborate. Everybody loves it.”

Handstamp: I briefly met him last year and witnessed somebody flogging their perfume to him fist hand. Had no idea he was so actively involved in that world, but it makes more sense now. So, now you’re back in LA, was it a musical decision to head back?

Lillie West: “No, it was mainly because I have a lot of friends here. That and I fell in love with someone. I needed to go somewhere, as my stuff had been in storage for two years, while I was in Iceland. It was time to settle somewhere and luckily I fell in love.”

Handstamp: How has it affected you, creatively?

Lillie West: “I have been in album mode for such a long time. I’ve also done a poetry workshop and done ceramics to address other creative areas. I also made an ambient album with my boyfriend, but I’ve been writing less intentionally for this project. This year has really been about settling down. I just got myself an acoustic guitar again, because I lost mine. So, I’m not quite sure how its impacted me.”

Handstamp: Recently, you’ve had to shift from album mode to tour mode, how do you feel about playing these new songs live?

Lillie West: “I finished this last year. When I announced my album, a friend asked how I felt about it and because it just happened on the internet, I felt exactly the same, honestly. I’m hoping that touring and playing the songs to people will really bring the songs to life.”

The latest LALA LALA record Heaven 2 was released in February 2026 via Sub Pop and since this interview, the album has been toured in the US, with European dates pending. Subscribe to Handstamp Substack for future interviews, follow @itshandstamp on social media and just bloody listen to Chief Springs on your chosen platform, will you? This week’s illustrations by Geo Law.

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London-based deathcrash are a band that float between indie rock, noise-rock and slowcore. Their most recent album, Somersaults, was written through a period that saw them tour with The Jesus and Mary Chain and Have a Nice Life, helping them build a profile that extends beyond the much-discussed Windmill scene that they had became attached to.

When I caught up with bassist Patrick Fitzgerald earlier this year, he offered an insight into his musical upbringing and shows that may have informed the band’s output.

Patrick Fitzgerald: “I was born in London, then I moved to America until I was 7, then moved back. I’ve always been a Londoner since.”

Handstamp: Where in America did you live?

Patrick Fitzgerald: “California. San Diego and Berkeley.”

Handstamp: Were you old enough when you moved back to notice any drastic differences?

Patrick Fitzgerald: “Definitely. It’s pretty nice and sunny over there. The way of life is pretty chill. So, coming over to London, the weather was crap and people grow up faster here. London’s fun, it’s just a lot more cynical and gray, but it accelerated my growth much more.”

Handstamp: Having previously been to San Diego, I can vouch for having a particularly chilled atmosphere.

Patrick: “Yeah. My dad is an academic. He’s English but he’d been teaching in America for decades and at that time, he was teaching in USD and Berkeley.”

Handstamp: Do you remember when you first became tuned in to music?

Patrick: “My parents would play a lot of classical music at home. They both played the piano, they’re quite musical. Then, as an introduction to pop and rock, my mum would play a lot of Led Zeppelin and The Beatles. Those were the two big ones I was brought up on. A lot of Joni Mitchell too. We obviously heard music on the radio, in the car too.”

Handstamp: What was the first live show you saw?

Patrick: “My parents would take us to a lot classical performance and ballet, honestly. I can’t tell you which show was the first but that was an experience that I loved.”

Handstamp: Does anything in that world stand out as a special memory?

Patrick: “I remember the first time I saw The Nutcracker, that was obviously pretty big. But then, even though I was really into rock, I never saw a show until I was maybe 13, when I went to Latitude Festival, which was mind blowing. I saw Alt-J there on a small stage, I saw Foster the People, I saw a rowdy The Cribs concert.”

Handstamp: Well, after that formative festival experience, what was the first show you went out and saw?

Patrick: “At about 13, I got really into metal, but I didn’t go to that many shows because none of my friends liked that kind of music. But then, I had a girlfriend in my teenage years, who was really into experimental music and was connected to that world. So, we’d go to a lot of Ninja Tune shows and stuff like that. Do you know Amon Tobin? He’s an English-Brazilian, forward-thinking electronic musician. I saw him at one of those shows, he would have crazy, live visual shows that were 4-dimensional. Then I saw Mogwai live at a festival and it was the loudest thing I’d ever heard. My English teacher got me into Mogwai as a teenager. Also, then I went to a Slint show and a Swans show, they were both life-changing.”

“I remember people telling me that I needed to bring earplugs, I MUST remember to bring earplugs. I thought it was bullshit, so didn’t bring earplugs and it destroyed my ears for like four days.”

Handstamp: They sound pretty loud too.

Patrick: “Yeah. For the Swans show, I remember people telling me that I needed to bring ear plugs, I MUST remember to bring ear plugs. I thought it was bullshit, so didn’t bring ear plugs and it destroyed my ears for like four days.”

Handstamp: I remember those days. The naivety of youth. You’d almost wear the ringing in your ears as a badge of honour the next day at school.

Patrick: “Exactly. Me and our drummer are still a bit like that. We never use earplugs.”

Handstamp: Well, Godspeed… Do you remember a gig that directly made you want to get on stage?

Patrick: “The Slint show was pretty major, when I was 17. Pretty life-changing. It was soon after that, when I started being in bands. I used to go to a lot of festivals and there was something about seeing people play those that sort of inspired me. It’s mainly just seeing how massive it can be, in a way. I have to say though, I think actually playing shows was what made me want to play shows, because it can be quite addictive, especially when you first do it. Biggest adrenaline rush ever.”

Handstamp: Right, especially in your teenage years, right? Even if you don’t have any cultural cachet in the bag, for that short stint it allows you to feel like you’re that guy. You mentioned going to a lot of festivals, which is your favourite festival in the UK?

Patrick: “I have a fondness for Green Man. I played there when I was 18 and then again when I was 26, in a couple of different bands. I also went as a teenager. It feels like a different, magical place. As I mentioned, Latitude used to be big for me, but I haven’t been in a while. End of the Road is great too.”

Handstamp: It feels like a lot of people decide on a yearly basis if they’re going to go to either Green Man or End of the Road. Similar scale festivals, with a serious commitment to interesting programming.

Patrick: “It’s hard to argue with the music at End of the Road, but as an experience Green Man is so good, because you’re in the Brecon Beacons and it’s pretty beautiful.”

Handstamp: I’ll have to take the leap then. Currently, where do you think are the best players to see live music in London?

Patrick: “It depends what you’re after. Going to see a show at The Windmill or The George Tavern can still be so exciting, especially because they’re so small. I played at The Windmill so much, from when I was about 17 until 23 and it was so fun, it was like a playground for us. I would be scared to go back, to be honest. In terms of bigger venues, I love seeing shows at The Barbican, I just saw Caroline at KOKO and it was amazing. Oh, Village Underground can be really cool too. There are so many great venues in this city, we’re lucky.”

Handstamp: I imagine you’ve covered a lot of those venues, considering you’ve been playing live since you were a teenager. What’s your relationship with going to see shows objectively like now?

Patrick: “[laughs] It’s bad, it’s NOT good at all. I struggle to feel like I’m not ‘working’. They make me slightly on-edge and I start feeling a bit too critical, because it really makes me feel about my own live show. It takes a bit more to transport me now, but it’s still possible, the Caroline show I mentioned is a great example. They did something really unique, filled the space and really made it feel special. But yeah, I struggle generally and I don’t go to as many shows as I should.”

Handstamp: Besides Caroline, is there another recent example that has transported you?

Patrick: “There was this band called TorPor, who played in a skate park in the Netherlands, at a festival called Roadburn. The lights were on, which felt confusing. It was the heaviest thing I’ve ever experienced. As a band, we’re all really interested in shows that really feel like experiences, where they can bring out a physical, cathartic response. 40bpm, sludge doom kind of thing. It was so powerful. It had a huge impact on us.”

Handstamp: It seems to be a bit of a thread in this chat, where you value the shows that gave you the biggest visceral reaction. So, the record, Somersaults, is out. How do you feel about sharing these songs in a live environment going forward?

Patrick: “We’re excited. It feels like we’ve had time to develop these songs live, been able to rehearse a lot and I think we’re in a great place. It’s easy to lose faith in what you’ve done over time, but playing new music live is a great way to feel the feedback and feel inside the album, you know?”

The latest deathcrash record Somersaults was released in February 2026. Subscribe to Handstamp Substack for future interviews, follow @itshandstamp on social media and just bloody listen to Chief Springs on your chosen platform, will you? This week’s illustrations by Geo Law.

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The first weekend of Coachella has passed. From my perspective - streaming the odd set on YouTube from 5000 miles away - it’s hard to gauge what will and won’t ‘hit’ in Indio. CMAT’s packed Gobi Stage audience suggests it’s not JUST the self-serious influencer types we hear about who are willing to brave the sun exposure and $30 pints nowadays. Yet, some high-streaming American indie bands of apparent acclaim walked out to nobody and the legendary David Byrne dealt with Justin Bieber’s overspill.

Somebody who had a pretty successful Coachella weekend was prolific Swedish songwriter, musician and producer, Björn Yttling. The founding member of Peter Bjorn and John performed a triumphant set with longtime collaborator Lykke Li, but a couple of weeks before that, he connected with me from Stockholm, just before he left to complete local hockey coaching duties. We discussed his expansive and dynamic work for the project Yttling Jazz, but first went back to his hometown of Norsjö.

Björn Yttling: “I lived there until I was 15 or something. In Sweden we have something called Dansband, which is like Swedish country. They played popular songs with a lot of reverb and you dance to it for three hours. That was the live situation in Norsjö. In the 80s, it was either that or people playing the accordion out on their porch.”

Handstamp: Just neighbours playing for everybody? I guess that can either be a treat or a negative, depending on your taste.

Björn Yttling: “[laughs] Some people were really good, actually. Anyway, then we started playing music ourselves, playing covers of Depeche Mode and so much more. Anything from ZZ Top to Jean-Michel Jarre.”

“Improvisation in sports is crucial, because you don’t always have time to think about it and sometimes have to play fast, like Charlie Parker. I think it’s a beautiful analogy, there are a lot of similarities, but you don’t get hit quite as hard in jazz.”

Handstamp: It sounds like you may have adopted synths early. Was there a show you saw that informed that choice?

Björn Yttling: “We never saw a show with a synth, because they didn’t really happen there. It was all about listening to cassette tapes and on the radio, passing stuff on to your buddies. People didn’t really love that type of music around there at the time, it was all about boogie and blues.”

Handstamp: Obviously jazz eventually made a major impact on you, do you remember first seeing a performance that influenced you in that genre?

BY: “The biggest impact for me was in high school, when I was 16, because I moved to a different city that had a jazz club. Our math teacher owned the club and he made sure we could go for free, if we wanted to. That was really cool, as even though it was over an hour away from Stockholm, they still got some really interesting artists to stop by. It was high-level stuff. I saw a band play, with an enormous player from that city called Bobo Stenson, who is one of the biggest Swedish jazz players ever. He would regularly play at that club.”

Handstamp: Were there any other inspiring shows that you saw around that time?

BY: “Well, one of the most formative things I saw was Herbie Hancock in 1993, in Stockholm at a festival. My school buddy Magnus played with him, which was really exciting. He was 19 and so was I at the time. When he called me to tell me he would be playing with Herbie Hancock, it was a really big deal. It was very inspiring to see him play with such a great artist, a legend.”

Handstamp: Did the experience of seeing a peer achieve that give you an extra push?

BY: “Oh, yeah. He was always so good, so trying to keep up with him made me much better than I was. Having such a good musician in my class definitely helped. The greatest part is that I still play with him, hang out with him, play tennis with him and he played on this most recent Yttling Jazz record.”

Handstamp: That’s beautiful. Is tennis your main sport, I noticed you’re wearing some sort of team attire.

BY: “This is ice hockey, I’m about to go and coach. No rush, I’m just pretty prepared.”

“When you’re seeing a free jazz band, those people don’t want to act like they’ve ever rehearsed, then you see some great rock bands and they don’t want to act like they’ve ever improvised.”

Handstamp: You’ve been actively involved in making and performing music for decades now. Has that affected your ability to enjoy live shows fully?

BY: “I think so. It’s like, if you’re a football coach and you go to watch the game, it won’t be like the Average Joe going to a game. You think about what could be different or what is particularly impressive about it. Still, occasionally you get blown away. For example, when we played Coachella, with Peter Bjorn and John, we shared a stage with My Bloody Valentine and The Cure. It was around 15 years ago, but seeing them play, all these years later and still going for it, sounding so great, it was inspiring. I can still get into it, but there’s more to it. If I go to see a jazz concert, I can be pretty blown away but I can’t really JUST be a fan.”

Handstamp: I guess watching an impressive free jazz player and hearing My Bloody Valentine’s wall of sound are mind-blowing in uniquely different ways too.

BY: “When you’re seeing a free jazz band, those people don’t want to act like they’ve ever rehearsed. Then you see some great rock bands and they don’t want to act like they’ve ever improvised. Watching a punk band, it should seem like they’re barely making it through the show, while watching a jazz band, you want to feel taken care of, maybe. I think maybe I’m somewhere in between those two feelings. Sometimes you want it to sound a little bit broken and not too slick.”

Handstamp: A lot of people are craving performances from real human beings, so live improvisation seems like a good reminder of that, as it celebrates embracing the moment. What’s your approach with Yttling Jazz?

BY: “I’m doing a mixture, really. I will use hand signs to indicate certain things, you know, shorter solos, longer solos… I like it to be a mix of rehearsed and improvisation, so you never really feel totally safe while performing.”

Handstamp: How does that carry over into your hockey team, do you like them to be super drilled or free flowing?

BY: “[laughs] that a good one, because it’s similar. You have to use your energy, but if the other team has more energy, you have to be able to fall back on the system, or arrangements that you have worked out. Right now, the team doesn’t have the basics, because they’re so young, so we have to go with as much energy as possible. But yes, improvisation in sports is crucial, because you don’t always have time to think about it and sometimes have to play fast, like Charlie Parker. I think it’s a beautiful analogy, there are a lot of similarities, but you don’t get hit quite as hard in jazz.”

Handstamp: Thankfully. Can you pinpoint a show that had a significant effect on you?

BY: “It took me a long time to see Bob Dylan. I couldn’t afford to see him in the 90s, so I only recently just saw him in Stockholm, last year. The papers wrote him down, but he is still fantastic, he’s still doing whatever he feels like and playing the way he wants to. That’s what’s so great about him. Another one, which is probably not expected from me, is Mr. Bungle. I’m not a super fan of them, but what I remember from the show is that they played a really long song and the amp broke down half way through. The singer, Mike Patton from Faith No More, then just decided to start the song over again. The song was like 11 minutes long, but they didn’t care. It was a memorable moment, which made me realise some things about the relationship between the audience and those on stage. I just thought it was quite ballsy.”

Handstamp: You spoke about not being hit when playing jazz, but I understand the new album, Illegal Hit, is basically a reference to that part of hockey. The record is out, how have you felt about sharing the music in a live environment?

BY: “I’ve been playing a lot of pop and rock music, playing songs, so it’s been refreshing for me to do the jazz thing. I feel very confident that if we start the song in a different key, or whatever, it’s still going to be something good. Also, I worked with so many great musicians on the album, but sometimes they can’t make it live, so we aren’t always rehearsing, but it’s still taking shape and working out. People expect me to play a different version every night, which is a different experience. I’m playing right now with Lykke Li, who I just made an album with and you have to play specific versions of the songs people know, of course. Playing the jazz shows actually makes it more fun to play rock and pop shows, somehow, because you get a bit of both.”

Yttling Jazz are set to tour Sweden in May 2026 and his production on Lykke Li’s The Afterparty can be heard from 8th May. Subscribe to Handstamp Substack for future interviews, follow @itshandstamp on social media and just bloody listen to Chief Springs on your chosen platform, will you? This week’s illustrations by Geo Law.

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In spite of its unrelenting beauty, art can make for embarrassing conversations. A creative pursuit is often considered delusional until its a career and those responsible can be mocked until they’re lauded. For those reasons, explaining your work in everyday chat can be surprisingly complicated, punctuated by this video, fed to me earlier this week.

J. Willgoose, Esq of British rock band Public Service Broadcasting has grown used to these conversations and has sharpened his responses over time; unsurprising given the experimental nature of his musical output. As a long-time listener, I wanted to know where the journey to epic, sample-infused post-rock began for him.

J. Willgoose Esq: “I grew up in South West London. The main way I heard music early on was sitting in the back of the car, on trips back and forth to visit family in Sunderland and Oxfordshire, listening to my parents albums. Some of it was good and some not so much, but some made a really big impression on me. I still have a bit of a thing for Nik Kershaw, which I’ll stand by until my dying day – The Riddle is an absolute Desert Island Disc for me. Then Eurythmics, Thompson Twins, proper ‘80s stuff. Then some older stuff like The Beatles, you know..”

Handstamp: It sounds like there was a vast array, but staying within the chart music realm.

J. Willgoose Esq: “Yeah. We weren’t listening to obscure, underground records or anything. My mum was a teacher and my dad is an accountant, so they weren’t tapped into the hardcore punk scene or anything.”

Handstamp: Growing up in London, I guess you had immediate access to live shows from an early age. When would you say things really kicked on for you, in terms of seeing shows?

J. Willgoose Esq: “I tuned out, or at least stayed treading water when it comes to music between the ages of about 8 and 12. I bought the occasional single but was a bit intimidated by kids at school who liked cooler stuff, so I stuck with what I knew. But then my older brother brought home Oasis’ Definitely Maybe in 1994 and then I went to see them at Earl’s Court just after (What’s The Story) Morning Glory? From that point, the touchpaper was lit and off I went.”

Handstamp: I guess that was when the mania was really just starting to build?

J. Willgoose Esq: “Yeah. It peaked after Morning Glory, because of Wonderwall. The song that I had a thing about was Bring It On Down. That song was so exciting to me. The songs are simple enough that even if you’re crap on the guitar, which I was, you could learn them in 15 minutes. I got a guitar for Christmas soon after the show, so it really was kicked it all off.”

Handstamp: That’s a pretty mega first show.

J. Willgoose Esq: “I know, yeah. I must have only been about 13 or 14. The Bootleg Beatles were playing before them. During their set, we looked behind and Liam & Bonehead were sitting there watching. After about 15 minutes, we plucked up the courage to go over and speak to them, say thank you. So yeah, good first experience for a first show, we ticked a lot of boxes.”

Handstamp: I can relate to one aspect of that. For my first ever live show, I saw Stereophonics and they played loads of Beatles covers. The band was fine, played some hits, but the biggest takeaway was those covers. It was the first time I’d heard Beatles songs that weren’t Yellow Submarine, or whatever, you know? Probably the biggest catalyst for my love of music.

J. Willgoose Esq: “Yeah. We listened to a lot of The White Album and Abbey Road.”

Handstamp: Going back to Oasis quickly, did you see a reunion show?

J. Willgoose Esq: “No, I didn’t. I was just at the opticians this morning and we were talking about music. They asked if I had gone to one of those shows and I told them I had gone the first time around, when they had fire in their bellies and didn’t just want a shit load of cash. If I had never seen them, I might have been tempted, but I also remember what those crowds were like, a lot of pints of piss being thrown and general aggro. Maybe because the crowds were seemingly a lot younger this time round it wouldn’t have been quite as confrontational and macho. But yeah, I saw them at Earl’s Court, saw them at Knebworth and saw them after Be Here Now, when they were well on the way down, so I’ve done that really…”

“If they keep pushing and really want to know, I’ll tell them. But mostly I’ll say that if you listen to 6Music, you might know us. Otherwise, I don’t think you’ll know us and don’t worry if you don’t.”

Handstamp: Just to go back to your conversation at the opticians, I play some music and it would be considered more ‘straightforward’ than yours. Even so, when I speak to a dentist, or a taxi driver and have the conversation about making music, it can be a difficult one to navigate. So, what do you say to the optician when they ask about the type of music you make?

J. Willgoose Esq: “Well, she didn’t actually ask, which I was quite grateful for. I have slightly grown to dread that conversation, you know? It’s happening more and more recently, where people ask you if you ACTUALLY do it for a living, sometimes even after they’ve seen us play. It’s hard to take offence to it, but you’re like ‘yeah…’ It’s tough, especially if we’re on tour, getting a taxi and somebody wants to chat, I think all of us are holding back, so we don’t have to really get into it, probably just because we’ve had the conversation lots. I remember when I first quit my job, I was excited to tell people I was a full-time musician, but Wrigglesworth had been a musician for ages and he said ‘I tell people I’m a postman.’”

Handstamp: Brilliant. So, if you’re forced into it, you’ll just go with something broad like ‘rock band’?

J. Willgoose Esq: “If they keep pushing and really want to know, I’ll tell them. But mostly I’ll say that if you listen to 6Music, you might know us. Otherwise, I don’t think you’ll know us and don’t worry if you don’t.”

Handstamp: I get it. When I was much younger, I was in a band that was really influenced by Sigur Ros and other post rock stuff. I also played basketball and when I was in a conversation with an older guy I played with, he asked me about our music. I thought the only option I had was to just name a softer rock band that he may know, so I went route one and said Coldplay, who, in reality, we were nothing like. As a result, he clowned me for a year, because he hated Coldplay. No way to win.

J. Willgoose Esq: “To be honest, the best way through those conversations is to turn it around on them and ask them what they like. Then you’re out of talking about yourself, because even though I’m sat here, talking to you, I don’t love talking about myself.”

Handstamp: Right, well just to put you against the ropes again then, you mentioned the Oasis show being a catalyst, but do you remember another show that directly made you want to play music?

J. Willgoose Esq: “The first show that made me look around the room, realise how happy everybody was and think that if I was in a band, it’s what I would want to do, was The Flaming Lips. It was around 2000, at Rock City in Nottingham, while I was at university. They hadn’t released Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots yet, so it was everything up until The Soft Bulletin. They’re still doing what they did then, such a joyous, life-affirming show, so ridiculous, so stupid. I don’t know how they make any money from it either, because were in a similar situation, where we chuck so much at our show, know how much it costs and people think were stupid for doing that. But it was joyful, brilliant, mind-opening, mind-expanding beautiful experience. I had that very clear thought that I wanted to be part of something similar. We ended up supporting them a couple of times and seeing Wayne Coyne watching from the side of the stage would make me pretty nervous. Nice guy though.”

Handstamp: One of the few internationally famous Coynes! That’s great. Thinking specifically about your use of samples and maybe just some of your sonic choices, were there any acts you saw live that informed that?

J. Willgoose Esq: “I’ve seen and listened to Mogwai a lot, especially everything up until Rave Tapes, which is when I semi-checked out, but their power and the volume of their wall of sound. Sigur Ros, I remember seeing them at maybe their first London show, supporting Godspeed You! Black Emperor at Festival Hall. They blew them off the stage, to be honest. So, those shows definitely exposed me to that goosebumps feeling of when the music is overwhelming you. There weren’t any shows that really influenced the sampling, but one big influence was DJ Shadow’s live album Live! In Tune and On Time. I liked hearing how he’d laid parts of songs over different tracks and mucked around with stuff to make it into a really musically engaging show. I did see him perform with Radiohead and Teenage Fanclub before that, but I was too young to really pay attention and wasn’t into producing yet.”

Handstamp: Amazing lineup though.

J. Willgoose Esq: “Yeah. I look back at some of the lineups, you see them on the walls of the venues we play and you just can’t believe it. The Ramones supported by Talking Heads? Imagine that! But I have been lucky, I’ve seen some amazing bills.”

Handstamp: One I always remember my parents telling me about was when they saw U2 in Milton Keynes, supported by R.E.M, The Ramones and Billy Bragg. You won’t forget that sort of show in a hurry.

J. Willgoose Esq: “That’s pretty massive. I remember Radiohead at Oxford’s South Park in 2001, supported by Supergrass, Beck and Sigur Ros. Everybody who went to that says it was just the best show ever. Best gig of my life, definitely.”

Handstamp: Incredible. I’ve just found somebody’s old ticket on Reddit and it says Sigur Ros were opening. I can’t picture that, for some reason.

J. Willgoose Esq: “It was in the day, so it didn’t go down as well it would have at night, but thankfully, not long after that, they got to a level that they could do what they wanted. It was before they had released (), so they’ve come a long way since then.”

Handstamp: What was the last show you saw that really made an impact?

J. Willgoose Esq: “I had a really surprising one actually, because it was a band I had listened to the first record of and then tuned out for a while. It was Vampire Weekend as the headliner at Victorious Festival. They were amazing, genuinely staggeringly good. It’s a really big show now, they’ve got about 10 people on stage. They’ve got loads of great, melodic and interesting songs. It was a really high level of musical accomplishment, but without the pretentious stuff that can get in the way of it sometimes. It was an eye opener for me, they were wonderful.”

Handstamp: Agreed. I saw them on that tour too, I think. Did they do the section where they take a bunch of random requests from the crowd?

J. Willgoose Esq: “Yeah! That’s just ridiculous.”

Handstamp: It is. It takes an amazing amount of self confidence to dedicate a 20-minute slot to a covers jam.

J. Willgoose Esq: “That’s American bands for you, man. They all seem to have music theory backgrounds and can do that kind of thing. British musicians are a bit more self-taught and naïve with things like that. As good as they are, I can’t imagine Radiohead doing something like that.”

Handstamp: Well, I just can’t imagine them having that much fun, respectfully.

J. Willgoose Esq: “[laughs] no. I did see them at the O2 Arena on the recent tour. Amazing staging and the songs mean so much to me. The best thing about that night was just seeing how much the songs still mean to everybody in the room and I hope that the band felt that love too. When you’ve been away for that long, you start to wonder if they’ve fallen out of love with it or lost some confidence. It’s also gotten a little bit complicated for them politically, I think. But it was just lovely to see people enjoying the experience so much. I’m glad I went, even if I did pay an extortionate amount of money for the ticket.”

Handstamp: I was put off by those prices. I can’t help but feel affronted by the current cost of a ticket like that, almost especially if it’s a band you love. It feels weirdly insulting if you’ve been going to see that act for years. But of course, when gig week came around, I had enormous regret when I saw so many people having the time of their lives.

J. Willgoose Esq: “I see what you mean. To be fair, that show would have cost them an absolute fortune to put on, with the amount of screens and moving parts. But still, it’s a very expensive ticket.”

Handstamp: Well, one of the really impressive shows I saw in recent years was Public Service Broadcasting at All Points East Festival, during the The National’s day. I hadn’t seen you on the poster and happened to walk past at the very moment you started and it just sounded so huge that I skipped the bar to come in, stayed for the set. It was so impressive.

J. Willgoose Esq: “Thanks, that’s great. That’s what’s good about festivals, just wandering around and being drawn in by stuff. The reason you wouldn’t have noticed us on the lineup is because we were late subs for Low, who had to cancel because their drummer was really ill. We got put on a couple of shows because of that. They were great shows for us, but under terrible circumstances. Mimi died shortly after, so it was a sad and complicated time.”

Handstamp: You do have an enormous show lined up, at Alexandra Palace in September, celebrating the 10-year anniversary of The Race For Space. Is that a special venue for you guys?

J. Willgoose Esq: “I had to be talked into it actually. As a South Londoner, I grumble a bit about getting to Ally Pally. I sympathise with everybody who complained when we announced it, saying it’s easier to get to the moon itself. But we wanted to take a step up to another level with this show, so the choice was between Ally Pally or Wembley Arena. Ally Pally has all of the broadcasting history behind it, which is very apt for us. I mean, the venue played such a big role in actually broadcasting the moon landings, you know? But also, I’d forgotten until recently that we played there when we launched the record initially, we played a trailer at an event in the theatre. So, it did feel like an opportunity to go full circle.”

Public Service Broadcasting are set to tour this summer. Subscribe to Handstamp Substack for future interviews, follow @itshandstamp on social media and just bloody listen to Chief Springs on your chosen platform, will you? This week’s illustrations by Geo Law.

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In these conversations, I often write about the way the quiet moments in a performance hold equal value to any bombastic climaxes that follow. When have we ever required moments of peace more than now? Luckily, we can still find them through music, on record and in live spaces.

Recording under the name Searows, American musician Alec Duckart writes songs that are both weighty and soothing, moving gently while leaving a mark. Having had his latest release on regular rotation, I was interested to know how his Rip City upbringing informed Duckart’s musical output.

Searows: “I’ve lived in Portland pretty much my whole life. At first, I just thought of Portland as any random city and didn’t know it had any cultural significance until Portlandia came out. That’s when I realised that people knew about the city. That was around the time I started to figure out what my taste in music was and I went to random concerts, but I wasn’t quite aware of the music scene that much.”

Handstamp: It’s incredible that Portlandia had that impact, considering it’s both parody and a celebration at the same time.

Searows: “Totally, and it’s embarrassingly accurate sometimes.”

Handstamp: Amazing. You said that you had gone to some random shows, but what was the first show you remember attending?

Searows: “Well, the first show I went to was Owl City in like 2010, because I was really obsessed at the time. I forgot that my mom did take me to local shows sometimes too. We saw Dirty Martini, who is a Portland band that I thought was hugely famous at the time.”

Handstamp: Local legends? Where would that have been?

Searows: “Yeah. A farmers market type show, on a little stage.”

Handstamp: Oh right, I know the type, some other band would be on the back of a truck or something?

Searows: “[laughs] exactly.”

Handstamp: Tell me about the Owl City thing then, I haven’t thought about them for a while. I do remember how mind-melting it was to see one of your first obsessions live for the first time though.

Searows: “I have so few memories of the actual concert, but it was definitely the first time I had a musical obsession to myself, separate from what my sister or parents liked. I had discovered it on my own, so it felt like my thing and I had all of their albums on my iPod shuffle. I don’t remember much about it, except that it was so overwhelming. I hadn’t been in a room that loud before, surrounded by adults. My dad put me on his shoulders so that I could see the stage. I remember it being very cool, but can’t really picture anything happening on stage.”

Handstamp: Do you remember what the catalyst moment was for you, something that made you want to perform?

Searows: “I definitely remember feeling that way in some shows my mom took me to. There’ s an island in Oregon, which is mostly farmland and shows happen on somebody’s farm. People would come and put down blankets, everybody was so into it and it was a really joyful memory for me. I didn’t realise I wanted to play shows, but I did realise I wanted to do what they were doing.’

“Also, I saw Hayley Heynderickx in a Whole Foods parking lot, doing a set for a music program that I was interested in doing. My mom took me to that and I realised I wanted to be part of the program. So, I did join it, after she left.”

Handstamp: Seeing another artist from Portland performing in a way that you wanted to definitely sounds like a formative moment.

Searows: “Definitely. It would have been an inspiring moment even if she hadn’t become such a big artist. People absolutely love her.”

Handstamp: I love her music. Still on Portland, where are the best places to see live music in the city?

Searows: “I can think of the worst places, but it’s hard to think of the absolute best. I really like Mississippi Studios, which feels really intimate and warm. But it depends on taste, I guess. I really like Revolution Hall. But yeah, my mind went to the places I really don’t like.”

Handstamp: Well, I wont force that answer out of you, even though it would be juicier.

Searows: “[laughs] I know.”

Handstamp: Which shows have you enjoyed the most in Portland?

Searows: “I saw Adrianne Lenker here once, when she was touring Songs and Instrumentals. It was so crazy to have one person on stage, so silent most of the time, tuning her guitar patiently between songs while still totally capturing the room. She’s just so great.”

Handstamp: Great observation. There is a real sense of self assurance that comes from her on stage, without being showy. To be honest, speaking to you, I sense a similar level of composure and patience in your answers. When I see that on stage, in a live environment, it’s really impressive to me. It’s so natural for performers to feel the need to fill dead air constantly. I came away from seeing her a little bit jealous of her complete lack of panic.

Searows: “Totally. When I saw her, I hadn’t played that many shows at the time. I hadn’t toured, so I wasn’t used to how to behave. I would think of tuning as the thing you try to do as quickly as possible, then apologise immediately after. I tune so much during my shows that I have to actively remind myself of her behaviour and that it’s not that weird for everyone else to wait for me to finish.”

Handstamp: I’ve had multiple chats for Handstamp in which I’ve been reminded just how impactful Lenker has been for the current generation of emerging songwriters.

Searows: “She’s so good, it’s crazy.”

“I felt so awkward, but it was fine. I think it’s something that I’ve come to accept as part of my shows. Part of the charm may be how genuinely awkward I feel on stage, because it comes across I’m sure.”

Handstamp: Just to continue on the previous thread, how do you handle when things go wrong during a show?

Searows: “I would like to think that I am flexible and able to go with whatever happens, but I think I panic a little bit. I can’t think of many instances when things have got wrong but I do remember at one of the more recent shows, I wrote everything down wrong, like tunings and where to put my capo. I felt so awkward, but it was fine. I think it’s something that I’ve come to accept as part of my shows. Part of the charm may be how genuinely awkward I feel on stage, because it comes across I’m sure.”

Handstamp: Well, I suppose over time you realise that those things will only de-rail the show if you let it. Sometimes those moments are the most endearing parts of a performance. Now a big one. Can you name your favourite show that you’ve seen?

Searows: “The first time I saw Ethel Cain live meant so much to me. It was in a very small venue, right before she was playing huge rooms. That was so special. It was her and two other people playing at Mississippi Studios, which I mentioned earlier. I love the way that places feels, which adds to it.”

Handstamp: Your latest album, Death in the Business of Whaling is out now. How do you feel about sharing those songs with new audiences?

Searows: “I’m excited. The last few tours have been about playing a bunch of songs that are important to me, but I haven’t known how to make it much of a real ‘show’. I became tired of playing the songs, but there’s a lot more energy with these new songs and it makes it easier to play them for a long time that way, I guess. I don’t know, but I’m very excited.”

Searows released their latest record ‘Death in the Business of Whaling’ in January 2026 via Last Recordings on Earth. A European tour begins next week, you can find tickets here. Subscribe to Handstamp Substack for future interviews, follow @itshandstamp on social media and just bloody listen to Chief Springs on your chosen platform, will you? This week’s illustrations by Geo Law.

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After a solid six-week run of consecutive posts, I’m certain that you noticed there was no Handstamp interview last Monday. Things were paused, as some temporary changes were made. In the absence of my usual collaborator Alice, this week’s illustration comes from the brilliant Geo Law.

Worry not, while not writing, I still had the chance to see multiple shows. One of those recent gigs was NoSo - the project of Korean-American musician Baek Hwong - in London. At the show, Baek expressed a sincere appreciation for UK audiences, who they feel have shown up consistently over the years. Well, NoSo showed up too, in a major way. The band showcased sharp musicality, broke hearts and had the Assembly Hall rocking.

A couple of weeks before NoSo hit Europe however, I had the chance to speak to them about their musical upbringing and formative live shows.

NoSo: “My mom and dad were both big music lovers. They never played music themselves, but always had a deep appreciation for it. So, they’d show me YouTube videos of Prince, Amy Winehouse and other legends, like every day. Then my mom worked at a music festival that was local to the town and because she worked there, we would go to watch classical music, as well as legends like B.B. King, Aretha Franklin and Bonnie Raitt. That started when I was 8 and then all throughout my adolescence in Illinois, until we moved to LA.”

Handstamp: So, that festival was your first experience of live music?

NoSo: “Yeah. I think my first official concert was an ABBA tribute band and it blew my mind.”

Handstamp: Was it the really successful Australian one, Bjorn Again?

NoSo: “I don’t know, but they were amazing. I’d never heard their music before but it really moved me. I saw a Beatles tribute too and I loved it. But yeah, Bonnie Raitt at the festival was so great. I had always been obsessed with guitars, even before I started to learn, so I was really excited to see her perform.”

Handstamp: Beautiful. Have you been to see the hologram thing, ABBA Voyage?

NoSo: “I haven’t. When I was really young, we did go to London and saw Mamma Mia though. But, no, I haven’t seen that show.”

Handstamp: I can’t recommend it enough on your next visit. Probably the happiest room I’ve ever been in. Initially you have a battle with your ability to suspend disbelief, but after about two classics, you’re all the way in.

NoSo: “Oh, wow. Ok, I need to make it happen then.”

Handstamp: Absolutely. So, beyond the Bonnie Raitt show, can you remember any other early moments that made you feel like you wanted to do this?

NoSo: “In my town, there was a small shop called The Music Gallery, which had beautiful custom guitars in the window. Because I loved the way they looked, I begged my parents to let me learn the guitar. At the time, I was quitting every hobby I had, so they weren’t on board initially, but I was so adamant that they eventually realised I was being serious, then a few years later I got a guitar. So, it all started with me loving the way guitars looked, then when I’d see shows every day at the festival, I’d watch people playing to so many people and it would exhilarate me.”

Handstamp: Yeah, its really hard to get your head around the sheer spectacle when you first fall in love with going to live shows. Did you move to LA because you got into a music school?

NoSo: “We moved because of my father’s job, in the middle of high school. It did line up though, because I’d started to take music more seriously at that point. I had submitted for a songwriting contest through Carnegie Hall and I was one of the winners, so we went to South Africa, performed in original bands and that was the first time I’d performed original music on stage. So, that fully threw me in. It was a huge crowd and I was young, so I was so scared, but it was a formative, pure experience.”

“At the time, I was quitting every hobby I had, so they weren’t on board initially, but I was so adamant that they eventually realised I was being serious, then a few years later I got a guitar.”

Handstamp: Then that led you to eventually studying music at college?

NoSo: “Yeah, I went to USC and was in the music program there.”

Handstamp: How did it impact your creativity, studying alongside so many passionate musicians?

NoSo: “It was interesting. I struggled to adjust in the first year. I felt lost and intimidated by everybody’s skill because I was self-taught. A lot of them were formally trained in every style, so I felt really behind. But then it reinvigorated me, because I just wanted to keep up with everybody and stop feeling inadequate. So, I think being around so many people who were so much more proficient made me practice and grow so much.”

Handstamp: While you were growing, would seeing a lot of live performance be part of that process?

NoSo: “Yeah, that was also big for me. It was jarring and helpful to experience the reality of LA’s music scene, because I had such a lavish introduction to live shows by going to South Africa to play for a built-in audience of 1000 people, then when I first started out I saw so many of my amazing friends play to like two people. It was like boot camp for us. All of sudden we had to work hard to get people to come to our shows and that was a reality check, for sure.”

Handstamp: As somebody who has also played to two people before, I can attest to how harsh but character-building it can be.

NoSo: “It is. I remember being silent on the car ride home but I always thought, ‘I can’t let this crush me, I have to keep going.’”

Handstamp: Absolutely. Even the Princes and Amy Winehouses of the world would have had to play to just the sound guy at some point.

NoSo: “Right. We all have those moments.”

Handstamp: Definitely. I remember my band booking two shows on consecutive nights, in the same city, in my early 20s. The first one was really well-attended, but we forgot to really even post about the second one, so we played the first song to literally just our girlfriends. Then the promotor went to the bar upstairs and just encouraged people to come in for free, which was actually way worse because there were so drunk and uninterested in our soft boy ambient rock. Do you have any stories from those days?

NoSo: “Oh man. I played a sports bar in front of three people. I had to wait for hours before my time came and went on right at the end, when most people had gone. Still, the remaining people were so enthusiastic that I still saw it as a win, even though it was a little bit crushing. For most of my years in college, I was playing for two people who were my friends, a promoter or people eating in a restaurant.”

“I remember being silent on the car ride home but I always thought, ‘I can’t let this crush me, I have to keep going.”

Handstamp: Beyond the sports bar scene, what are some of the best places to see live music in LA?

NoSo: “I love The Masonic Lodge at Hollywood Forever Cemetery. It’s the perfect size for me, as an audience member and an artist. It’s really beautiful. I love The Fonda Theatre also, that’s another perfect venue. Also, The Greek.”

Handstamp: I haven’t been, that’s right by Griffith Observatory, right?

NoSo: “Yeah. It’s also in a residential area, so there’s a noise restriction and it doesn’t get too loud. It’s so beautiful and sounds great, kind of a dream venue.”

Handstamp: Now that you’re touring, do you still enjoy attending shows?

NoSo: “I still love going to see shows. As I’ve gotten older, I really love a seated amphitheatre. My tolerance has changed as I’ve gotten older. When I was younger, I was going to festivals, sleeping in a hotel room with like 12 other people and thought it was fine. Now, my knees hurt, so I like sitting. My dream concert is Enya, even though she doesn’t perform, I want to see her in a seated amphitheatre.”

Handstamp: I’m with you. I used to go to Glastonbury every year and getting tickets just gets harder, but as I get that little bit older, my desperation to rough it lessens. I want to sit at shows and may not have 6 days of walking 35,000 steps in me anymore. I recently went to a seated show in a box at the Royal Albert Hall and thought ‘I could get used to this type of luxury’, but I’m not sure I can pull it off just yet.

NoSo: “[laughs] Right. Royal Albert Hall is absolutely a dream venue for me too. Every iconic concert I’ve seen there, on video, has made me see it as a bit of a career goal.”

“I grew up in quite a repressed town, so I hadn’t ever seen anything like that. It made me feel like there was more out there, in a way. As somebody who has repressed some parts of me, it was really eye-opening.”

Handstamp: Well, I strongly recommend it. Which gig has emotionally impacted you to the most?

NoSo: “It’s honestly that ABBA tribute concert. The music was so jubilant and the men in the band were so comfortable expressing femininity. I grew up in quite a repressed town, so I hadn’t ever seen anything like that. It made me feel like there was more out there, in a way. As somebody who has repressed some parts of me, it was really eye-opening.”

Handstamp: Ok, so their expression of self was the biggest takeaway? Kind of remarkable, especially given that they were a tribute act, serving as a sort of vessel for ABBA’s art. That’s really beautiful. You’re also right about their songs, it IS really jubilant but what is also great is the melancholy that seems to always sit underneath.

NoSo: “Definitely. That’s what I love. It’s also just so timeless. We were dancing to ABBA in college, I’m still dancing to it now. The music they made is so complex but still easy on the ears, which is so hard to accomplish. I love them.”

Handstamp: I am always hit by the chord sequence in the chorus of ‘Dancing Queen’. It’s one of the all-time floor-fillers, but it’s so quietly heart-breaking.

NoSo: “It is! It’s so beautiful, but there’s so much going on, they’re all playing such different parts that are sort of combative against each other, but it’s still so listenable.”

Handstamp: The bass goes crazy. Well, on that European note, you recently came over for a tour. How did you feel about sharing the newest music with European audiences?

NoSo: “Super excited. A lot of the places on the run, I had never been to. I’d never been to Glasgow, never been to Copenhagen. So, it was super exciting. I love touring Europe.”

NoSo released their latest record ‘When Are You Leaving?’ in October 2025 via Partisan Records. Subscribe to Handstamp Substack for future interviews, follow @itshandstamp on social media and just bloody listen to Chief Springs on your chosen platform, will you? This week’s illustrations by Geo Law.

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I’ve been thinking about age a lot recently. These thoughts have been informed by discussions with friends about our shared, involuntary dip in athletic performance, general health challenges, the loss of youth that hampers creatives who are yet to ‘break through’ and the all-encompassing responsibility to progress professionally. Until this weekend’s excellent Jeff Tweedy show, where I had the increasingly rare but welcome experience of being one of the youngest people in the room, I had been feeling the haunting presence of Father Time breathing down my neck.

Upon revisiting the below conversation with Brian Borcherdt of Canadian band Holy Fuck, I realised that it may have served as a catalyst for this exploration of aging. But before we dove into the power of nostalgia and the value of mature rock band reunions, we kicked off the first interview of the Event Beat press cycle by discussing Borcherdt’s upbringing in a scenic Maritime province on the east coast of Canada.

Brian Borcherdt: “I grew up in Yarmouth, Nova Scotia. The band came together in Toronto, so people know us as a Toronto band, but our bass player is originally from Prince Edward Island, which is also on the East Coast, now lives in Nova Scotia, so when I moved back six years ago, it brought the fulcrum of the band back there. Graham was still in Toronto and our drummer, who has been based in New York for the longest time, moved back to his place of birth in Ohio. We’re always moving, we’re a moving target.”

Handstamp: At a young age, what was your access to live entertainment like?

Brian Borcherdt: “There was no access to live music, or any access to anything really. I was always a big fan of music, because it was played a lot at home and it just made sense to me that music should be important, so I was inspired to find things and listen to whatever I could. Because my parents were American, we would have these family holidays, in which I would hear whatever I could, tape things off the radio and try to bring ‘culture’ back to our remote fishing down. So, when I got into my teenage years, we started booking halls and hosting our own events for our friends to play in front of an audience that was mostly other teenagers. Beyond that, even though I was such a big music fan, nobody was touring close enough to us and I didn’t really get to see much until I left The Maritimes. It’s something I really missed out on.”

Handstamp: What music would be played around the house then?

Brian Borcherdt: “My mom would play a lot of records, like Neil Young, Joni Mitchell, Led Zeppelin, The Beatles, that kind of stuff. If I was in the truck with my dad, he’d play his cassettes but I never liked those. I remember wanting to be in mom’s car for that reason. [laughs]”

Handstamp: What was in dad’s collection?

Brian Borcherdt: “Phil Collins, Rod Stewart, Paul Simon…”

Handstamp: Ah, so some of the pop crooners.

Brian Borcherdt: “We call it dad rock for a reason, you know?

“Some big, burly guy came over to me and said I was sitting in his seat, kicked me out. Some guy on the balcony threw cigarette ashes on me. I was a little bit scared. I was enjoying it, but remember feeling pretty relieved when it was over.”

Handstamp: Right. Where did you see your first show ever?

Brian Borcherdt: “Coincidentally, Graham and I, even though he is from just outside of Toronto, saw the same first big concert. When I was on a family vacation to Denver, Colorado, I saw Pantera. Years later when I told Graham, he told me that was his first show too. For me, it was so far from home, it just happened to be what was on in Denver at the time. But other than that, my time in Halifax was when I would have been able to have the chance to see more shows, there was also a bit of a scene happening there when I was at university.”

Handstamp: Tell me about Pantera as your first show, was that a bit of a baptism of fire?

Brian Borcherdt: “[laughs] Well said! It was all-ages, but I didn’t really consider that I would still be the youngest person there. I was a little skinny, scrawny kid and I forgot to change out of my shorts, so was wearing those and my Soundgarden t-shirt. I was surrounded by hulking, biker-looking guys who lived up to all of the Pantera fan stereotypes. I was being picked on at the time, so I was a little insecure. My brother, who should have been taking care of me, ran off and jumped in the pit, left me to myself. Some big, burly guy came over to me and said I was sitting in his seat, kicked me out. Some guy on the balcony threw cigarette ashes on me. I was a little bit scared. I was enjoying it, but remember feeling pretty relieved when it was over.”

Handstamp: Sounds like a pretty frightening experience. I have to respect your hard-headed determination to return to live shows, with that experience in your back pocket. So, that was your first show, but what was the show that made you want to pursue music?

Brian Borcherdt: “I think its hard to pinpoint that moment for me, because it happened simultaneously with wanting to play music. Maybe because I lived so remotely, when I heard something I loved and was excited about, I really wanted to share it with my smaller community. There was a desire from a young age to get my friends interested in the stuff I was discovering from either a late-night radio station or tuning into Philadelphia stations when visiting family. When I started to play guitar and write, it was tapping into that same desire.”

Handstamp: I like it, I guess you’re coming from a slightly different perspective to most people I speak to. A lot of the time there is a show that serves as a jumping-off point for an artist’s pursuit, then as they start to perform regularly, it changes the shape of their live music experience. However, it sounds like your journey may have worked the other way around almost.

Brian Borcherdt: “Yeah, it’s interesting. Some of these things, I appreciate now that I can look back. You get a chip on your shoulder, as you grow up and navigate among your peers who grew up in the city, you can’t help but feel a bit left out. I can now look back with more fondness, because having a unique experience with music is just as valuable. Sure, I didn’t grow up in a suburb, where I would have had the chance to go to some cool concerts, but I also would have grown up in a suburb, which could have been boring, you know?”

“I found myself in a zone, feeling loose, happy and I was singing along to every word. It took me a while to realise that it may have been because I missed out on so much of that stuff in my youth.”

Handstamp: That’s fair. Where are the best places to see a show in Toronto?

Brian Borcherdt: “That’s a good question. Venues are always changing. Even though I’ve been going to concerts in the city for close to 30 years now, I still feel like I don’t totally know the answer to that. There are new venues I haven’t been to yet, then there are the bigger concerts which I seemingly never go to, I can’t remember the last time I saw anybody in an arena or anything. I’m still going to see people in 200 capacity rooms, which I love, even though I may know half of the people there. The concert I went to on Saturday, the band was playing and in my peripheral vision, I could see the one staff member who was supposed to be bartending cleaning up an overflowing toilet with a mop and bucket.”

Handstamp: Excellent. Bartender, janitor, security, sound guy….

Brian Borcherdt: “[laughs] exactly. To me, that is a totally normal concert experience but to some, that would really be slumming it and maybe we should ask for more from our venues.”

Handstamp: Well, at least somebody else at the bar, I guess. Zooming out, can you name a show that you’ve seen in your lifetime that has impacted you the most?

Brian Borcherdt: “Yeah. There’s two columns to this really. The first concerts I really got to feel absorbed in were aorund Holy Fuck shows, where I got to be at a festival, side stage and see bands like My Bloody Valentine, The Breeders, which was such a thrill. Yet, I think I was always taking it for granted, because I was busy, probably tired and a little bit drunk. It was part of a whirlwind, because the festival season was a little too busy for us in that period. But one highlight during that whole slew of concerts was the ATP (All Tomorrow’s Parties) Festivals they used to put on in England.”

Handstamp: Right, yeah. Bills curated by different artists, most of the time..

Brian Borcherdt: “Yeah and one year, there were three nights and each night was curated by a different artist. It was Battles one night, Les Savy Fav one night and Caribou the other. Les Savy Fav invited us but the whole weekend was great. I’d played a lot with Caribou quite a lot by then, we had mutual friends and I knew some of the guys from living in Toronto. That was a really special show because they had Marshall Allen playing with them, they had a bigger band with two drummers. It was one of my favourite shows. I also got to see Pharoah Sanders play, just such a killer line-up.’

“But then 10 years ago, I was living in rural New York and saw that Quicksand had reunited. I reached out to get on the guestlist and went alone, but it dawned on me as I was watching, just how much I was enjoying it. I was in the pit, which usually makes me a bit too trepidatious, but I found myself in a zone, feeling loose, happy and I was singing along to every word. It took me a while to realise that it may have been because I missed out on so much of that stuff in my youth. This was one of the first times those bands from my childhood had reunited, who I never got to see and it really sparked something in me, gave me a sense of completion. Most fun I have had at a concert.”

Handstamp: There are two reasons I find that answer beautiful. One reason is that most people say that their favourite show is at a really early age and as they grow a bit older they become a bit more jaded, can’t enjoy shows in the same way anymore. The other reason is that band reunions are often considered lesser-than and people say that the same magic can’t be reproduced. Yet, there you were, having had plenty of opportunities to become jaded, enjoying a band who were bringing the same energy that they did when they started.

Brian Borcherdt: “Oh, exactly. It’s something important to remember, because the inner cynic is increasingly easy to tap into. It was easy for me when I was younger, but now I am becoming the curmudgeonly old guy, it’s even easier. Nostalgia is a beautiful thing and we shouldn’t be too cynical about it.”

Handstamp: I agree, but no time for nostalgia with Holy Fuck right now, as the new record Event Beat is on its way in March. How do you feel about sharing the music in a live environment?

Brian Borcherdt: “Connecting in a live setting is something we are most comfortable with. We’re all really looking forward to making that connection again, because its always been the most important part of this band. We love writing music together, as a live expression, then getting to recreate that in front of a willing audience, is why we do it. It’s a place we’re very comfortable in and we can’t wait to get back to it. The thing we’re a little more anxious about is sharing an album in general, because the last one was in 2020. We loved that album and loved the response it was getting, but it was just ahead of the pandemic, so we didn’t get to follow it up with the live thing and everything got truncated. So, we’re more nervous than ever about dipping our toe in the cold water by sharing this new music online. But returning to the stage, that’s second nature for us.”

Holy Fuck will release their latest record ‘Event Beat’ via Satellite Services on March 27^th. You can see their tour dates here. Subscribe to Handstamp Substack for future interviews, follow @itshandstamp on social media and just bloody listen to Chief Springs on your chosen platform, will you? Illustrations by the excellent Alice Bowsher.

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It has rained every single day of 2026 in the UK and it’s showing no signs of stopping, as I look out of my apartment window at the balcony furniture taking a beating. Naturally, this winter bleakness can dampen spirits and make you hark back to times of sunshine and carelessness, such as a trip I made to Austin, Texas in 2013, armed with nothing but a backpack, a dream and a vest that I was far too skinny to pull off.

So, when connecting with Lindsey Mackin of rock band Annabelle Chairlegs, I relished the opportunity to discuss the city and its transformation over the last decade. But first, I wanted to know more about her musical upbringing in the sweet spot between New Jersey and New York City.

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Lindsey Mackin: “I feel like I went to a lot of bigger shows growing up. My first concert ever was actually Bruce Springsteen..”

Handstamp: That’s sort of a rite of passage in New Jersey, right?

Lindsey Mackin: “Exactly. In the earlier years, there were shows at the VFW shows, DIY shows and things like that. But I don’t think I really started going to rock shows until I went to college in Santa Fe. But before that in New Jersey, there was a lot of going into New York City, going to Broadway, going to bigger concerts. It was cool to have access to so much for that, for sure.”

Handstamp: Quite a unique situation to have a scene in New Jersey, but then New York City is on your doorstep, so you had a lot of options. Where did you see Springsteen for your first show?

Lindsey Mackin: “I saw him at Continental Airlines Arena, which is where the New Jersey Devils played. I don’t know if it’s still there, honestly. Its right next to MetLife Stadium, where the Giants and Jets play. I have such vivid memories of it, where we were sitting and how great the energy was. It was insane. He would sell out like 10 shows in a row, you know?”

Handstamp: Was it a family trip?

Lindsey Mackin: “Yeah, well it was with my sister, my dad, some friends. A big group, maybe 10 of us.”

Handstamp: Sounds like a great day out. Having that as your first show also sets an incredibly high bar for any future performances.

Lindsey Mackin: “For sure. Are you a Bruce fan?”

Handstamp: Big time, love him. You said that the DIY shows started in your teenage years, can you tell me about that?

“When I got to college, joined a band and started throwing shows, I thought back at how cool it was that people were building music communities around me.”

Lindsey Mackin: “I remember just going with my friends, I wasn’t necessarily in the scene as much as they were but would tag along to a lot of them. There were a lot of emo shows, which honestly weren’t my cup of tea at the time. Then when I got to college, joined a band and started throwing shows, I thought back at how cool it was that people were building music communities around me.”

Handstamp: It feels as though half of my guests have had an emo or pop punk phase and it really bridged a gap on what they’ve eventually become. So, you went to Santa Fe for college; how did that compare to life in New Jersey?

Lindsey Mackin: “I grew up right outside of New York, about seven miles from downtown Manhattan. Then when I was in New Mexico, I really was in the middle of nowhere, out in the desert. There was not much going on there, at all, except from within the college atmosphere. I think it was a cool shift though, because I was able to go from insanity to chill, which gave me some air to breathe, be inspired and become creative. I was studying acting, while also singing a bit, then some friends asked me if I wanted to join their band and I initially thought I’d just sing their songs and play the tambourine, you know? Once I was doing it, I realised it was what I wanted to be doing, it made me excited and hyper-focused. I met all these great musicians, who helped me learn how to play, introduced me to underground artists I didn’t know about.”

Handstamp: Great, so you’re in Austin now, did you end up there right out of Sante Fe?

Lindsey Mackin: “I did four years at school, then stayed for an additional year because our band was going to tour and see where we ended up. I was going to move back to New Jersey, then the band proposed moving to Austin. Initially I didn’t want to move to Texas, but sure enough, I stuck with it and I’ve been in Austin for 13 years. Everybody I moved with left after about a year, so it’s crazy how long I’ve stayed and I enjoy it so much.”

Handstamp: You love it now, but you were initially resistant to the idea of living in Texas?

Lindsey Mackin: “Oh, absolutely. I didn’t know what it would be like, because I was kind of naïve to anything happening outside of New York City, New Jersey and I guess Santa Fe. I was imagining it a lot more country, but it’s a city, albeit a smaller city than I was used to. But yeah, I moved out, I learned to use the 4-track and started my own project, right after I got to Austin.”

Handstamp: Right, so Annabelle Chairlegs started around 2013?

Lindsey Mackin: “Yeah.”

Handstamp: I’ve been to Austin once and it was around that time. I understand the tech boom and other outside forces have changed the city quite dramatically since then.

Lindsey Mackin: “There’s still so much going on, but it has changed quite a bit. When I first pulled into the city, I saw four big buildings and it looked like more of a town, but now there are 25 big buildings that have totally transformed the skyline. The music scene is still thriving and bigger than most places, but it has become more difficult for artists to exist, compared to 2013 when everybody was making stuff. Back in 2013, during SXSW there would be concerts in parking lots and stuff like that, which was so welcomed. Nobody got in trouble for throwing shows anywhere, but now it is more strict.”

Handstamp: Right, more guardrails. From what I’ve heard, the essence of SXSW has changed from the commercial influx over the last decade. Speaking of Austin, I make music with my friends under the name Chief Springs and we are named that due to a great day we had at Barton Springs.

Lindsey Mackin: “That’s so cool. That just gave me a little chill, that’s awesome. I remember before I moved here and visited on tour, somebody took me to Barton Springs and I thought it was crazy. It felt magical that day.”

Handstamp: Yeah. It’s hard to explain why though, because it’s not really a conventional space, it’s not like going to the beach or anything.

Lindsey Mackin: “It’s funny you say that, because I was just thinking that I cant even pinpoint why it felt so great to me. It isn’t the craziest place, it’s just some water and grass, but there’s something about it.”

Handstamp: We also had a great time at Fun Fun Fun Festival, but I think that’s dead.

Lindsey Mackin: “Yeah, that died after a year or two, became another thing and then that died. It always had a great line-up though.”

Handstamp: I was there when Explosions in the Sky did a homecoming headline show. It was special. Anyway, less nostalgia, back to current day, where are the best places to see shows in Austin now?

Lindsey Mackin: “That’s a great question. There are still some cool places. Hotel Vegas is still somewhat cool, but on the weekends has become a sort of DJ patio situation, while it used to be rock shows filled with creatives, rather than tech people out for the night. It sucks that the question is so much harder to answer now. 29^th Street Ballroom just opened up, which used to be a classic spot called The Spider House. But there are still great venues, Mohawk is still putting on great shows, but its just different.”

Handstamp: What is the most memorable show you’ve seen in the city?

Lindsey Mackin: “I work in a bar and I saw Ronnie Spector there on New Year’s Eve. It was insane. It was crowded, in a small intimate venue. I just couldn’t believe I was seeing her live. One of my favourites, for sure.”

Handstamp: I understand you’ve spent some time in LA, even recently to record the new record with Ty (Segall). How did that environment suit you creatively?

Lindsey Mackin: “Well, we recorded the album out in Topanga Canyon and it felt like we were in the hills of Tuscany, so beautiful, hilly and quiet. It was actually very chilled and relaxing, which felt perfect for that process. We stayed at an Airbnb and reported to record every day. It was the perfect way to remove ourselves from home. We were buying groceries, cooking together and talking about everything, then waking up and going back to the studio. We really were in a our own little bubble.”

“I remember thinking it was a scary place to drive, but luckily I didn’t have to.”

Handstamp: That sounds wholesome and productive. So, there was no going back and forth into the city proper then?

Lindsey Mackin: “Oh actually, it’s funny you should say that. There was a big storm that came through one day, we were in the middle of recording and there was an evacuation order for Topanga, so we checked the map and had to evacuate the Airbnb, because of mud slides. After we wrapped up in the studio, all of the roads to the Airbnb were blocked off. So, we were headed back to Ty’s house and more roads were blocked off, with boulders in the road, which was insane. So, we were stuck in this loop and ended up having to drive into town to stay in a hotel. Then when we woke up in the morning, we still couldn’t get to our Airbnb so had to go into the studio with the same clothes on and keep working. We’d been in the rain that day too, so we had to just stay in those wet clothes all day. So yeah, that was our only day in the city.”

Handstamp: That sounds like a pretty scary experience.

Lindsey Mackin: “There were so many weird things that happened to us. We have a 16-passenger van that we drove with all of our gear from Austin. All of the hills were so crazy, I remember thinking it was a scary place to drive, but luckily I didn’t have to.”

Handstamp: Character building. Speaking of which, can you name a show that has had the biggest impact on you?

Lindsey Mackin: “On my birthday a few years ago, I saw Patti Smith in a small theatre in Austin. I was on the standing floor with a couple hundred people and was able to stand right at the front. She was older, I was so moved by it, I want to cry just thinking about it. I remember thinking that I want to do that, I want to be that age and still doing it with that kind of passion.”

Handstamp: Singular experience, really inspiring. Funny that you mentioned her age. I’ve been thinking about this since seeing a few aging legends in the summer. The general school of thought is that you’re seeing a sub-par version of the artist, but in some cases, the life they’ve lived and the experience they bring to the stage could enhance the experience. It feels like that could be the case with Patti?

Lindsey Mackin: “Exactly, you’re right. It was out of this world. We even opened for The Zombies and I just couldn’t believe I was standing backstage watching them.”

“I remember thinking that I want to do that, I want to be that age and still doing it with that kind of passion.”

Handstamp: Amazing. So, the album is out now, how do you feel about sharing the songs in a live environment?

Lindsey Mackin: “I feel great about it, I’m so excited. We have expanded the band a little bit and are back to having four people. There is a new energy. We haven’t been playing a lot of shows in the last year, so its exciting. I love performing so I’m excited to get back on the road.”

Annabelle Chairlegs released the latest record ‘Waking Up’ via TODO Records on January 30^th. Subscribe to Handstamp Substack for future interviews, follow @itshandstamp on social media and just bloody listen to Chief Springs on your chosen platform, will you? Illustrations by the excellent Alice Bowsher.

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Day-to-day life has changed for me in the last year.

Part of the reason I’ve been able to upload these interviews weekly is the necessary step back that I took, both professionally and socially, to recover from some frustrating and uncertain physical symptoms.

My second bout with COVID at the end of 2024 resulted in some longer-term effects on my nervous system. It’s been knackering, confusing and somewhat educational. While helpful resources ARE available, it’s important when your body starts to behave differently that you don’t send yourself into an online ‘research’ spiral, but I have certainly been guilty of catastrophising and comparing. Afraid I will never be able to perform music with my friends or struggle through casual basketball runs again, I searched for tales of hope from artists sidelined by COVID who returned in full force. Australian musician Nick Murphy, AKA Chet Faker was one of those beacons of hope.

Though our shared symptoms were few and far between, the chance to connect to the now-thriving Murphy meant more than he probably realised (until he proofreads this to check he didn’t say anything too wild.) Naturally, I probed him, off record, about the battle he faced to get back on stage, but first I wanted to know about the musical upbringing that pushed him there in the first place.

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Chet Faker: “I live in Sydney as of the last few months. I’ve come back to Australia, after 12 years in America, I think. I’m a Melbourne boy, I just like the beaches in Sydney.”

Handstamp: So, you’re a Melbourne boy, from the suburbs?

Chet Faker: “Yeah, I was a suburban kid. I moved around more than most people, because my parents were split and kept moving. Primarily, the eastern suburbs, about 40 minutes away from the city, so I wasn’t a city kid but when I finished school I got into the city, so wasn’t NOT a city kid either.”

Handstamp: You’d have access to the city life when you wanted it?

Chet Faker: “Yeah, I’d ride my bike there and back out at the end of the night. It was accessible to me.”

Handstamp: Well, being within touching distance to the city, did you have decent access to live music growing up?

Chet Faker: “Melbourne is kind of sprawled out. I remember the first gig that I ever went to that mattered to me was with my uncle Justin, when we went to see Silversun Pickups at a venue that’s closed now. They were supporting Snow Patrol and did a sideshow at this little venue, maybe 200-300 cap. We managed to get right to the front and it was cool, man. I remember a member of the band accidentally smacked a lady with the headstock of his guitar, during a guitar solo because he got so lost in it.”

Handstamp: …was the lady ok?

Chet Faker: “She WAS bleeding from memory, but cool about it. He was so apologetic, it certainly made it memorable. But my uncle, who has passed away now, was in a rock band called The Dipsticks, as the drummer and he had lived that live. He was a huge live music influence for me, so most of my early memories of shows were with him.”

Handstamp: Well, respect and RIP to Justin. So, that was your first show?

Chet Faker: “That’s the first one I really remember as an important gig. I remember it being a big deal that I was going out on a school night, so I must have been pretty young. Then Justin was my chaperone to get me into the gig and I remember being worried that I was too close to the front.”

Handstamp: In a ‘sensory overload’ type of way?

Chet Faker: “Well, just because I was nervous that the band would see me and decide I was too young to be there, or whatever.”

Handstamp: That’s a good one though, because most people have a bit of a caveat for their first show, where they qualify that it wasn’t necessarily the first show that mattered to them, but it sounds like this one could have made an impact on you.

Chet Faker: “There were probably some shitter ones that I buried deep but that’s the first one I really took in. I remember noticing everything, the bar, the people, I remember clocking the concept of it all at that point.”

Handstamp: What are some of the best places to see shows in Melbourne?

Chet Faker: “Oh man, they’re going to kill me for this. I haven’t lived there for over a decade, you know? I played at the Palais Theatre in recent years, which I also played 10 years ago and was told then that it was the last show, that it was shutting down but that is an iconic place. The first formal place I played was called The Tote, which is an institution in Melbourne and almost closed down during COVID but stayed alive just through donations. My very first band in high school was called Sunday Kicks, we played at The Esplanade in what they call the front room, where you can fit about 50 people. We’d play a lot of shows there and my friends would come.”

“Music is music, you don’t have to be a lost cause to make it.”

Handstamp: What did the Sunday Kicks sound like?

Chet Faker: “Um, confused? [laughs]. The guitarist, Fraser, loved John Frusciante, he was obsessed to the point of trying to have a life-destroying drug problem to replicate his idol. He was pretty good as a guitarist, he could shred.”

Handstamp: The thread of musicians in their 30s with a Red Hot Chili Peppers-infused background, including myself, is incredibly wide-reaching.

Chet Faker: “Well, I’m absolved of this. I like them now, but I never liked the idea of a self-destructive artist like my friend did, I thought it was a trope. I’m sober now, I had a real problem at one point but I just didn’t think it was cool. I still have friends in New York, who did heroin to be like Lou Reed or whatever, which I think is really fucking stupid. Music is music, you don’t have to be a lost cause to make it.”

Handstamp: You’re not on board with suffering for your art then?

Chet Faker: “It’s bullshit. If you’re an artist, you’re an artist man. David Byrne, you know? There’s a million examples.”

Handstamp: So, if you weren’t into the Frusciante thing, who was your main inspiration at that time?

Chet Faker: “I liked Jeff Buckley. That’s who I was obsessed with. I couldn’t sing like him, but I didn’t know that yet, so was doing all sorts of over-the-top extended shit. I was also learning the keys, but wasn’t that good at it. My great singing teacher, Trevor, who had this sort of camp musical theatre thing going on, definitely had an influence, so I had this proxy theatrical thing coming through. Then our drummer, like most young drummers, just wanted to be in a metal band and play fast, but was forced to be in an indie band.”

Handstamp: Totally. There were plenty of frustrated Joey Jordisons who wanted to flex their twitch muscles.

Chet Faker: “[laughs] exactly. Anyway, that ended over a girl, as all great bands do.”

Handstamp: RIP Sunday Kicks.

Chet Faker: “RIP. I tried to find the old MySpace page, but it’s hard to find. It might be gone.”

Handstamp: When you moved to New York, was that quite the shift for you?

Chet Faker: “Crazy. I had no idea what I was doing. I didn’t know anyone. It honestly took me two years before I made friends, for a multitude of reasons. I was talking to a therapist and was miserable, but I couldn’t go home because I had ‘moved to New York’, you know? Another part of it was that I was on an endless tour, my old manager just had me out on the road at all times, so I was trapped in a bubble of my own success. Then a friend told me to move to Bed-Stuy, as it was the ‘cool’ place to go, which it was, but it was 2014 and I was basically the face of gentrification. Then I moved to Red Hook, which is cool but isolated. After a few years I moved to Manhattan, which is when I was like ‘alright New York, let’s go.’”

Handstamp: I guess that’s the postcard version of having moved to New York?

Chet Faker: “Well, I’m from suburban paradise, you know? So, I had this moment where I questioned why I would live in a Brooklyn suburb. I came to NEW YORK, give me the full experience, in the city with the horns and all that.”

“The New York scene was kind of running from the money, because all the coked-up finance dudes would turn up to a good party on the third month and make it shit.”

Handstamp: I guess there was a big difference between the live scene in Melbourne and New York too?

Chet Faker: “There was. This may get me in trouble… well, probably not because New York doesn’t care, but it kind of sucked. New York has all the greatest bands on, all the time, but what I had in Melbourne, which wasn’t the case in New York, was that it was really natural to go out, go to a gallery opening or a show or whatever, ride your bikes there, go to the after party and all that. The thing about New York was that everything needed a ticket, there were some barriers in the way of everything, so it didn’t feel natural in the same way.’

“There was some of that stuff, but it was after parties, apartment parties, more secret stuff. The New York scene was kind of running from the money, because all the coked-up finance dudes would turn up to a good party on the third month and make it shit. So, everything becomes a one-off thing, always moving, it felt like a maze. You’d be invited to a party by someone, who tells somebody else your number, you’d then be texted a poster, which tells you another number to call on the night, then you’d meet somebody who would give you the address. Basically, everything they can do to make sure only a select group of people could come, which is the opposite to most parties around the world, you know?”

Handstamp: It’s always struck me as a great place to have a well-connected social life, but as an outsider or tourist, or whatever, it’s not much of a party town unless you know exactly where to go.

Chet Faker: “Yeah, they literally call it the city that never sleeps, but in my experience, I was partying more in Melbourne, which I didn’t expect.”

Handstamp: Absolutely. I think the public-facing version of New York is actually a city that sleeps at around 10pm. Once you’re embedded or if you have a ridiculous amount of money, it certainly seems to be different.

Chet Faker: “Right, there’s always something on somewhere. The hard part is knowing where it is. That’s kind of my point. In Melbourne you’d know to go to one of five venues, but in New York you’d have to work to find yourself at a random Karaoke bar where Lenny Kravitz was throwing an open bar, or something like that. You have to kind of be out every night and those things happen occasionally, then become lore. I prefer going out in a city where you don’t have to roll the dice for a good night out.”

“I’ve spent the last 10-15 years reverse engineering, making a track and then working out how to play it live. I’ve been on a long journey to connect those two worlds, but with this record, I think its starting to line up.”

Handstamp: Do you remember any particularly good shows in New York?

Chet Faker: “Man… not really.”

Handstamp: Fair enough. What about in Melbourne?

Chet Faker: “Well, ok. I mainly remember seeing great DJs. I saw DJ Harvey on a rooftop in Melbourne, where I did my Boiler Room. It was hard to go get into because it was packed out, then Annie Frost, who is another big DJ in Melbourne, hooked us up on the guestlist. The vibes were impeccable, it was a sunny day, everybody was smiling. All-time shit.’

“I also remember seeing Marcel Dettmann DJ a six-hour set at Roxanne, which is famed for the floor caving in a few years later. He played a techno set that morphed into an electro set. It was after I got sober, so I was only drinking water. I kept waiting for a break, where I’d be ready to go, but he just kept me dancing for six hours.”

Handstamp: On just water?

Chet Faker: “Yeah. Just totally locked in.”

Handstamp: Amazing. You mentioned seeing a lot of shows when touring, so I guess you’re somebody who makes the time to watch other acts?

Chet Faker: “Usually if it’s the same day, yeah. I saw Erykah Badu play in Austin in 2013, which was awesome. She called Austin ‘Dallas’, which I think she did it on purpose to piss them off, but it was awesome. I’ve seen her a few times, because I went on tour with Bonobo years ago, on my first proper tour and he had a track with Erykah Badu. She came to the show we played in Houston and I went on stage for a song with Si (Green, Bonobo), but before she came out, the band was vamping for such a long time, waiting for her to come out when she was ready. It went on for about 10 minutes, to the point where people were worried she might not appear, then there was the strongest smell of weed when she came down with an amazing looking crew of people, wearing a huge hat. An insane thing happened, where you could just see the room lift when she appeared, it was like God was on stage, you know?’

“I should have made a list, because I’ve seen some shit. But, I’m going to let my ADD do the thing. I remember seeing Phoenix sound checking at a festival somewhere in Scandinavia forever ago. I knew some of their earlier stuff but they played four or five songs from the latest record. It occurred to me that I had the empty field to myself, I could just sit down and have this little Phoenix show to myself. That was when I was having a hard time touring too much as well, so it felt pretty cool that I got to do it.”

Handstamp: Wow, private show. I guess during a tough time that made some of the sacrifice feel worth it, if for a moment?

Chet Faker: “Yeah, that’s what I mean. I felt stuck for a long time and a bit like a hamster on a wheel. But in that moment, I felt lucky to be there. I also played right before D’Angelo, in San Francisco. That was awesome.”

Handstamp: Oh, RIP. Talk about presence and aura…

Chet Faker: “RIP the GOAT. That was amazing. But yeah, that’s where my head is going, where the experience was really something different. He had about seven outfit changes as part of the show. So fucking cool. A real ‘pinch me’ moment.”

Handstamp: Sounds special. A Love For Strangers is imminent, how do you feel about sharing these new songs in a live environment?

Chet Faker: “I feel great about it. Probably more so than any record I’ve ever done. I was conscious of it the whole time when I was making the record. Chet Faker – the project – was never intended to play live, but then when it blew up, I had to figure it out. I’ve spent the last 10-15 years reverse engineering, making a track and then working out how to play it live. I’ve been on a long journey to connect those two worlds, but with this record, I think its starting to line up. I don’t need to rely on a computer or sampler to play these songs live, which is really exciting.”

Chet Faker releases his latest record ‘A Love For Strangers’ on February 13^th. Subscribe to Handstamp Substack for future interviews, follow @itshandstamp on social media and just bloody listen to Chief Springs on your chosen platform, will you? Illustrations by the excellent Alice Bowsher.

Speaking to artists for Handstamp offers me a perspective that I wouldn’t gain otherwise. I was reminded of that last week, when I saw previous guest Craig Finn at London’s Union Chapel.

As Craig belted some of my favourite songs of last year surrounded by flickering candles and stained glass windows, I thought about the way he shared life-changing moments with bands like The Replacements and the way it indirectly led to him standing at an altar in Islington, singing to hundreds in pin-drop, appreciative silence.

I hope to have a similar experience next month, just five minutes up the road, when Courtney Marie Andrews comes to town. I had the chance to speak to Andrews on the week of her latest record ‘Valentine’s release, having had it on consistent rotation for days prior. Before talking about what’s new however, I asked about her musical experiences when growing up in Arizona.

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Courtney Marie Andrews: “Not much music was played at my house. My mom was into country radio and that sort of thing. We lived in a neighborhood in Phoenix, where there would be mariachi blasting from the houses around us. Those were my first memories of music. My first experience of being moved by music was through musical theatre, such as Annie.”

Handstamp: Are you still a big fan of musical theatre?

Courtney Marie Andrews: “Some of the old songbook stuff, like Rodgers and Hart, Rodgers and Hammerstein, (Stephen) Sondheim. I’ll stand by some of those as the best songs ever written. If you take some of those out of the stage productions, they’re still just as powerful.”

Handstamp: Yeah. There is a reason they cut through, I suppose. How much access did you have to live shows in Phoenix?

Courtney: “Well, at five years old, it was the Gold Dust Elementary School talent show. [laughs]”

Handstamp: You’re laughing, but would they have been your first memories of performance in general?

CMA: “My first time singing and my first time experiencing live performance, yeah. I sang ‘Tomorrow’ from Annie in the talent show when I was five. I should also mention that my mother took me to an amazing place when I was a kid, called Mr Lucky’s, which is a country bar, where a lot of the classic country people had played through the years. It had bull riding and that sort of thing, then every Friday night they would have a fish fry and karaoke for kids before 8pm. I would sing karaoke at the fish fry every Friday.”

Handstamp: I’m guessing that you eventually deviated from Annie, so what were some of the other go-to karaoke choices?

CMA: “Well, because of the country radio thing, I would pick the female ballads like ‘Blue’ by LeAnn Rimes, ‘This One’s For The Girls’ by Martina McBride. All of the heart-wrenching choices. I never danced though, so I never won. The other little girl’s danced and I just had my hand’s in my pockets.”

Handstamp: So, what about when you outgrew the kids karaoke scene?

CMA: “When I was a teenager, there was a robust community of DIY venues and musicians. Phoenix was primarily a punk and metal place, but there was a big boom of songwriters, so when I was 14, 15, 16, there were a lot of places that were easy to book myself at and a great community of folk songwriters. We all lived downtown in this dilapidated house, which was a great live experience, as it was very community-based. This one venue called Modified Arts was a non-profit, artist-forward venue that I kind of grew up playing as a teenager.”

Handstamp: Would all of the venues you’d play at be full adult venues, or nights designed for teenagers?

CMA: “Oh no, they would mostly be adult venues. I didn’t play too many youth places, for whatever reason. I typically played where everybody else played. I definitely played some dive bars where I would have to play and then leave, because I was underage, which weren’t as fun as playing at all-age art galleries. I started touring at 17 and we’d go up the coast to play and most of the time we’d have to leave right after we played.”

“Your 20s are supposed to be this sort of rambunctious period, but it was a time of solitude for me. I had a lot of space to think.”

Handstamp: When you moved to Seattle, was it a music-based decision?

CMA: “Yes AND no. Love led me there but also Phoenix felt like a bit of a dead end at the time, with no music industry or major opportunities. I didn’t feel like I could continue to grow there and when I got to Seattle, there was a thriving scene. Fleet Foxes were there, The Head and the Heart, there was a booming folk scene that I was really attracted to. It’s also so pretty, because when you’re from the desert and you see water, you’re shocked.”

Handstamp: What do you think it did for you, creatively?

CMA: “Oh, so much. I think it’s so important as an artist, to expand your horizons. I think there was also such a bigger well of great players there at the time too. It was exciting to be around so many people who could inspire me to become better. I also lived in the woods a lot. Your 20s are supposed to be sort of rambunctious period, but it was a time of solitude for me. I had a lot of space to think. Seattle is that way too, not a very social place. So, I got to develop my art, in a really personal way.”

Handstamp: I suppose Seattle is a prime example of the energy of the city translating to it’s musical output then? At least historically…

CMA: “Yeah, they have a term for it – the ‘Seattle Freeze’. It might be weather based, but people in Seattle just don’t hang out as much.”

Handstamp: When they DO hang out, where are the best places to see shows in Seattle?

CMA: “There are places close to my heart, which I played a lot in my 20s. The Sunset Tavern is a smaller bar I played, then Tractor Tavern, which is my favourite venue. I still play there, I love it. There was a great place called The Triple Door, which has seated booths, which felt pretty upscale and fancy. Fremont Abbey is one of my favourite places too. It’s a beautiful cavernous space. Also, St Mark’s Cathedral, which is super special and feels pretty European, as we don’t have that kind of space over here. Those are the ones that stand out to me.”

Handstamp: As you were touring at such a young age, you’ve never really been out of the creative cycle, so to speak. So, have you ever really been able to enjoy live music in a traditional manner?

CMA: “I go through phases of being able to enjoy it. In these past two years, I haven’t been touring much and I’ve realised that when you’re a touring musician, you are inundated with live music all the time and it’s forced on you, so you can get a bit jaded. But in these past two years, it’s been really fun. The two things I love to see the most are legacy artists, because you don’t know when you’ll be able to see them again and then a lot of jazz. There are so many great old clubs across the US, which have been open since the heyday of jazz music. There’s a great one in Chicago called The Green Mill, which I tried to go to every time I’m in the city. There is still such an exciting element to jazz and some of the shows I’ve gone to have been so moving.”

Handstamp: Definitely something to prioritise when travelling the US. I’ve been lucky enough to go to some great clubs in Chicago, New Orleans and New York, which obviously is a different experience to what I’m used to here in the UK. Where are you based right now?

CMA: “Nashville. Not a lot of great jazz clubs here, but plenty of different music in abundance. [laughs]”

Handstamp: Yes, famously so! What type of impact has Nashville had on you?

CMA: “It’s kind of the opposite of Seattle, in that it’s a VERY social place. I have an incredible community of friends here, who have a deep understanding of the lifestyle you lead as a musician. They understand that you’re going to leave for a while and they won’t forget about you, be done with you. The question is always ‘when are you back in town?’ rather than thinking ‘all you do is leave..’ It really is a beautiful community.”

Handstamp: Has the environment done anything for your songwriting?

CMA: “I feel like everything does something for your songwriting. If you’re open to learning and experiencing, it impacts your songwriting. In some ways, it’s made me a better songwriter, but it’s hard to say.”

Handstamp: You mentioned legacy artists, who was the last legacy artist you saw?

CMA: “I got to see Neil Young & Crazy Horse on a whim. I drove to San Diego, it was the first date of the tour. I had only seen him once before and it was a really short set. But this was one of the best shows I’ve ever seen, it was so good. He was still so in love with music and that showed. He played songs that he doesn’t usually play. They cancelled the tour shortly after that, so I was so grateful to have seen it.”

Handstamp: That’s mine too. I saw Neil in the summer.

CMA: “Isn’t it so good?”

Handstamp: Incredible. I’m not much of a jam guy, I can appreciate a jam but I don’t seek out overly-long jams. There’s a time limit.

CMA: “That’s a very European take, by the way.”

Handstamp: [laughs] I know!

CMA: “[laughs] you guys don’t like jams. I don’t really either, I totally get that, but it’s super funny because we were just over there and asked what the Grateful Dead take was in Europe. The feedback we got was that they jam too long. It does get boring.”

Handstamp: It does, that being said, I went to the Neil show on my own, wasn’t feeling so great, but I was willing to sit through the 12-minute outros because I knew that afterwards he was very likely to play one of my favourite songs of all time, you know? When he played ‘After The Goldrush’, it was an instant classic.

CMA: “He’s pretty generous. He rides that thin line beautifully, where he plays what he wants but gives you a couple of special things throughout the set.”

Handstamp: Yeah, ‘one for them, four for me..’

CMA: “[laughs] exactly!”

“There were so many rumours that she was going to come back and when I heard her voice, because I never thought I was going to be able to see her, I cried.”

Handstamp: Any other shows that come to mind that had a similarly profound effect?

CMA: “Yes. When I saw Joni Mitchell at Newport Folk Festival. There were so many elements to why that was amazing. It was historic, a really big deal. There were so many rumours that she was going to come back and when I heard her voice, because I never thought I was going to be able to see her, I cried.”

Handstamp: That sounds really special. I had a similar experience seeing McCartney at Glastonbury, because I never thought I’d get to see a Beatle. I was not prepared for the emotion that came with it.

CMA: “I was there that day, but I didn’t get to see it.”

Handstamp: The Joni show - was that when there was a real community of musicians alongside her, when Brandi Carlile played with her along with others?

CMA: “Yeah. It was her first show in 15 years.”

Handstamp: From the outside looking in, while she is obviously a juggernaut and a legend, I found it quite moving to see the footage of so many people working with her to make the show happen and give her the appropriate amount of ‘flowers’.

CMA: “It was beautiful. It’s just crazy to hear a voice that means so much to you in person. Really moving.”

“I mean, perfection is boring to me these days. The more I get into a mindset of imperfection, the better it feels for everyone.”

Handstamp: Well, I know that plenty of people are going to feel that way about seeing you at your upcoming tour. Valentine is out now, how are you feeling about sharing those songs in a live room?

CMA: “More excited than I ever have about a live performance, because I feel a freedom I haven’t felt previously. We’re touring with a 4-piece, which I find really fun because it gives us space to express ourselves. I’m playing the flute for the first time, which is fun. The set will explore the sounds of the record, but a little bit different. It’ll have it’s own moments of freedom and exploration.”

Handstamp: There’s that jazz influence again..

CMA: “I mean, perfection is boring to me these days. The more I get into a mindset of imperfection, the better it feels for everyone.”

Handstamp: That’s such a huge revelation for an artist, isn’t it? Reacting to the imperfections of a live set is the most entertaining thing to watch.

CMA: “Right, playing off of it. There are so many ways it can go that don’t lead to internal devastation..”

Courtney Marie Andrews released her latest record ‘Valentine’ in January 2026. Subscribe to Handstamp Substack for future interviews, follow @itshandstamp on social media and just bloody listen to Chief Springs on your chosen platform, will you? Illustrations by the excellent Alice Bowsher.

On a recent Wednesday afternoon off, I braved a trip out of the flat to wander around the Tate Modern, listening to a playlist of recent releases. Just moments after I was chased by a gallery employee for carrying a reusable coffee cup through the Josef Koudelka collection, the playlist ran its course. Auto-play ensued and it fed me a contemplative but soothing song about meeting a stripper. It was ‘Cynthia’ by Sydney Ross Mitchell, who I was due to interview later that week.

Viewing it as a sign, I brought the ol’ pre-interview research forward and found myself drawn in by her approach to lyricism. Naturally, I wanted to tap into the life she’s lived so far, which informs some of her funniest and most reflective lines.

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Sydney Ross Mitchell: “I grew up in West Texas, in Lubbock. Pretty far from everything, but it’s a proper city, it’s a college town.”

Handstamp: Is it where Friday Night Lights was filmed?

Sydney Ross Mitchell: “I’ve been lying to people on the internet, by saying that show was based on my hometown. Friday Night Lights was actually based on Odessa, which is an hour or two away from Lubbock, which I think is close enough. The culture is similar though.”

Handstamp: Does the show properly represent the way that football can consume a town in Texas?

Sydney: “You’re going to laugh at me, I have never watched it. I kind of don’t want to, because people always assume I love the show. I lived it, so it’s not that interesting to me. Where are you from, originally?”

Handstamp: In London now, but originally from the Midlands.

Sydney: “Right ok, so I say to people that it’s kind of like the way that Americans are obsessed with The Crown and The Royal Family, when Brits are way less interested.”

Handstamp: Works perfectly. I certainly spent a good while caring about Tim Riggins from this side of the pond..

Sydney: “Yeah, so I haven’t seen it, but I’d go out on a limb and say it’s probably pretty accurate. My brother was an incredible football player, the star quarterback and they would write about him in the paper every week. So, it was huge, it was really pervasive.”

“I decided I would go to the strip club, go to the party even though there’s drugs there, it’s ok!”

Handstamp: Clear Eyes, Full Hearts, Can’t Lose. I’ve only been to Austin, so my perception of Texas is pretty elevated from a live music point of view. What access to live shows did you have in Lubbock?

Sydney: “It was quite limited. My primary access to music was listening to early ‘00s country radio and singing in a choir at school. Choral music was the biggest influence in my life. Getting to perform with other people, then sing at Texas All-State Choir and things like that. Then I learned to play guitar in a church band. My parents would just listen to country music and there wasn’t a lot of live music around, except country bars. My first ‘proper’ concert was One Direction, when I was 14. I was late to the game. Now I have to remind myself, being based in LA, that I can go to a show at any time.”

Handstamp: One Direction is a pretty 0-to-100 introduction to live shows. The mania and intensity around them at that point would have been wild.

Sydney: “Oh, yeah. There are no words for that one. I believe it was at the Dallas Cowboys stadium too, so I remember being blown away. To this day, I’m pretty overwhelmed by the production with shows like that. I just remember being blown away by the big screens and the visuals. It was quite the first concert, I think I was deaf for two days afterwards.”

Handstamp: Who took you?

Sydney: “I had to BEG my mother to go. It was the night before the first day of school, so I think we stayed and then got in the car in the early hours of the next morning to drive five hours to get me to school. It was crazy and it took some campaigning to make it happen.”

Handstamp: The commitment is real. Did you get the bug for those mega shows then?

Sydney: “I’ve only been to a handful of major shows since then, actually. I saw Billie Eilish at the O2, I saw Lorde at Madison Square Garden. For a musician who plays live shows, I am probably on the low end of shows attended, honestly.”

Handstamp: I love stories like yours though, where you showed extreme commitment to get to that One Direction show. You were a true ‘directioner’.

Sydney: “Oh yeah. I would have done anything.”

Handstamp: Do you remember another show that maybe had a more direct creative influence on you?

Sydney: “I saw Mk.gee at the Hollywood Palladium, not long ago. It was such an inspiring live show. Sometimes at a concert I’ll want to go and sit down, because my feet hurt. But at this show, there was no such thought, I was totally hypnotized by the show. The pacing of the show, the lights were impressive, the show was emotional, exciting and fun. That was inspiring. I also saw Olivia Dean at the El Rey Theatre, which is crazy because now she’s already doing arenas.”

Handstamp: Wow, yeah. That has happened really quickly for her, hasn’t it?

Sydney: “SO fast. I remember that night my friend said that she wouldn’t be playing rooms that small again. I had just gotten hip to her, but she really inspired me, by how simple her show was. There were no flashing lights or crazy screens, they just had her lit and her shadow was a big part of the show. Watching how much fun she was having and how present she seemed to be, was great. That’s a way I like to measure my own performance, by how present I was during a show.”

“It’s really exciting and a special thing to get to perform. It can be what you want it to be and there are no rules, which is empowering.”

Handstamp: Well, it radiates with the audience and it comes back in the other direction.

Sydney: “For sure. You can tell when a performer is in their own head and when they’re truly giving themselves to the crowd. There’s actually an artist called Jackson Lundy, who I used to live with when I first got here. I think he has one of the best voices ever and he’s such a great performer. He has a way of manipulating his timing and tempo during the show, which creates an amazing tension with the audience. I always think of him and his style of performing.”

Handstamp: It sounds like you’re pretty tuned in and always trying to learn from those around you.

Sydney: “Well, I hadn’t played a proper show until about a year ago. So, this live world is really quite new to me. As a young person, there wasn’t a ton of exposure for me. It’s really exciting and a special thing to get to perform. It can be what you want it to be and there are no rules, which is empowering.”

Handstamp: Oh, no rules at all. Also, audiences connect to artists for a wide array of reasons. One mistake a performer can make is to go into a show with a set of rules and a game plan to follow. A lot of people don’t want a super orchestrated performance, so the only choice is to be the authentic version of yourself and hope that people follow.

Sydney: “Exactly.”

“I decided then that I wouldn’t give up on this. I was taking marketing classes, learning photoshop and recording in the studio, because it was free.”

Handstamp: You lived in Nashville for a while. Was that purely a music-based decision?

Sydney: “Yes. That combined with just not knowing what to do. I had just dropped out of college, because I knew college just wasn’t for me. I really wasn’t happy. Then through a chain of events, I met somebody who was a publisher living in Nashville, an older gentleman. He is such a great guy and had worked with Foreigner, Olivia Newton-John and others from that era. So, when he heard some of my stuff, he wanted to speak to my parents. I’m grateful for all of that and think that everything had to work that way. Hearing that he heard something in me was reassuring for my family, especially somebody of that age and generation because if I told my mom that Clairo’s producer wanted to work with me or whatever, she wouldn’t know who that is.”

Handstamp: “Clairo wasn’t in Grease!”

Sydney: “[laughs] yeah. That familiarity helped. I moved to Nashville, but the issue was that COVID hit pretty shortly after I moved, but also I was so young, I was 19 and had no clue what I was doing. I didn’t know how to write with anybody, I didn’t know anything about working in a studio.”

Handstamp: So, I guess that made you feel like you were back at square one a bit?

Sydney: “It was not the best timing with COVID. But after a couple of years, I had to leave. I thought I would never go back to Texas, because it felt like accepting defeat or whatever. There is a school called South Plains College in Levelland, Texas which is about 45 minutes from my hometown. For some reason there is a fantastic music program there. LeAnne Rimes went there, Lee Ann Womack went there, Natalie Maines of The Chicks went there. I remember getting up in Nashville one day and deciding I’d go home to study there.”

Handstamp: Out of nowhere?

Sydney: “Completely. It felt like a message or something. So then I spent a year at South Plains, but there were only like 4 kids in each of my classes, due to COVID. That meant that I had such great access to my professors and I spent that year setting my intentions. I decided then that I wouldn’t give up on this. I was taking marketing classes, learning photoshop and recording in the studio, because it was free. I picked up so much experience there.”

Handstamp: At that point, was a move to LA the goal?

Sydney: “Yes, around that time I started visiting LA, back and forth. Trying to create relationships and do whatever I could. I met a couple of producers that I’d like to work with and decided that was enough for me, so made the move.”

Handstamp: What effect has the move had on your creativity?

Sydney: “Really, it’s been so crucial for me. I wanted to live in LA since I was a little girl, which is crazy because my parents hadn’t even been here. Hollywood is the opposite to Lubbock, Texas, I’ll tell you that. I am SLIGHTLY grateful my grandfather passed away before I moved to LA, because if he knew I was living here when he was alive, he would have had a heart attack. Culturally, they are very different, but when I moved here, it just made sense to me.’

“I feel that I’ve always been drawn to things I wasn’t supposed to do, the ‘bad’ thing. When I moved here – and a lot of this project is about this – I decided I would go to the strip club, go to the party even though there’s drugs there, it’s ok! Doing those things has contrasted so much to how I was raised, which is very conservative and religious. It’s brought up so much rich material for me to think about. LA is the perfect place for me to confront anything I want to, it’s all here. It’s not always a positive experience but I appreciate the chance to explore.”

Handstamp: It’s a great place to write songs about, as proven over the years. Even by me!

Sydney: “Oh yeah. You need to live a life to write about and there’s plenty of life to live here.”

Handstamp: Right. Grandpa doesn’t need to know about Cynthia, the stripper you wrote about.

Sydney: “[laughs] exactly.”

Handstamp: On that note, the Cynthia EP is out in February. How do you feel about sharing those songs with people in a live room?

Sydney: “So excited. I think there’s something about playing them live that makes you understand them in a different way. I’ve found that when I’ve been playing them solo, people are laughing at certain lines during the songs. I love that, it doesn’t upset me at all, because I’m aware that some of the things I’m saying are a bit funny, if I mean it or not. I love my band, love playing live. I also love playing those solo shows, because that is such a different experience.”

Handstamp: I’m not surprised the crowd are laughing. You are in the sweet spot of biting and sincere, lyrically. That’s what I connect to the most, honestly.

Sydney: “Oh yeah. I’ve heard people say that a lot of your best ideas come from your jokes. Maybe Phoebe Bridgers said that. A lot of the time, that is true. When you’re talking about really big, overarching emotions, it’s very easy to sound pithy and full of platitudes. I think the best thing you can do is get down to the specific realities of the situation, like a dog eating shrooms off the kitchen table. I love being able to take people on that journey.”

Sydney Ross Mitchell will release her EP ‘Cynthia’ on the 6^th of February. Subscribe to Handstamp Substack for future interviews, follow @itshandstamp on social media and just bloody listen to Chief Springs on your chosen platform, will you? Illustrations by the excellent Alice Bowsher.

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It’s Blue Monday.

I hope everybody reading this is defying that pseudoscientific idea effectively and having an ok January. I’m certainly giving it a go, with the help of homemade curry, an orange Ralph Fiennes, Natalie Palamides and a whole lot of Dove Ellis.

However sceptical I am about the concept of one particularly depressing day in the Gregorian calendar, I could do with a touch more vit C, as we all could from time to time. Somebody who made the wise choice to counter that issue a while back, is LA-based musician Jenny Hirons, who recently connected with me during a uniquely chilly morning, wearing a surprisingly chunky sweater.

Now releasing music under her surname, Hirons has used her musical abilities as an avenue to human connection since living in the US, but that’s not where things started.

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Jenny Hirons: “I grew up mainly in Fleet, Hampshire, but there have been little periods where we lived abroad. I was born in Damascus in Syria, then we lived in Cairo in Egypt until I was four. Then we came to Fleet, where we were until I was 14. That’s when things got pretty crazy for me, because my parents went to Belize and I went to boarding school in California, got kicked out and came back to the U.K. There have been two long chapters for me, which were Fleet and London, when I went to college.”

Handstamp: Is there anything going on in Fleet, musically?

Jenny Hirons: “I was too young to know, really. I wasn’t seeing any live music. But when I was in London, I would go quite frequently to Café OTO, but I didn’t go to that many shows otherwise. I’ve always been a big music fan and enjoyed music discovery, but in London, I wasn’t part of any kind of music scene. It’s nothing like now, in LA, where I am surrounded by musicians and see live music all the time.”

Handstamp: So, I’m guessing your first ever show was in your teens?

Jenny Hirons: “Well, my first show was Eternal at Wembley Arena, when I was really little and I loved it. Then I saw Sheryl Crow, also at Wembley Arena. So, my first experiences of live music would have been going into a bigger city with my mum, usually.”

Handstamp: Eternal is the band Louise Redknapp joined, right?

Hirons: “Oh, yes! They brought her in as the token white girl, I sort of forgot she was in it. All I remember is the others were such incredible singers.”

Handstamp: I guess she is the member who became most famous, but I do remember a few of their songs.

Hirons: “Oh, she became a celebrity, for sure.”

Handstamp: What impact did the Eternal show have on you?

Hirons: “Well, it felt special. It’s hard to create a link to what I’m doing now but that’s probably because I never expected to end up in music. I do remember Kelle from the band looking up in our direction and we’d made a hand-painted sign. We were so high up but when she looked over in our general vicinity, we convinced ourselves that she looked directly at us.”

Handstamp: [laughs] oh, that’s great. I have a similar experience. When I went to see my first Liverpool game, Michael Owen scored and ran toward our area of the crowd with his hand up and I told everybody at school he waved at me.

Hirons: “[laughs] ah, that’s so sweet. I was a Liverpool fan too, when I was little.”

Handstamp: Love to hear it. You spoke about Café OTO. What drew you there?

Hirons: “I just liked the venue, as I really wasn’t part of any music scene at all. I’m a graphic designer too and that was the world I was in, when I lived in London. I really liked the atmosphere, despite the pretention. I liked the atmosphere and have always had an ear for music that was slightly unusual. Another thing I enjoyed about it, is that it was just a great place to have a glass of wine. For that reason, I would stumble into some music because the programming was so great.”

Handstamp: In your graphics work, is music a major part of your design process too? Headphones in while you work?

Hirons: “Yeah, it depends on what kind of work I’m doing. If I really need to concentrate, that’s one thing but if I’m in the flow of things, I love listening to music while I work. The specific feeling of the music can lend itself to the work, create a connection to the work and add a certain attitude.”

“It’s quite an unnatural way to cultivate a friendship, because you have to be sure you want to travel for an hour across the city to see someone.”

Handstamp: So, what drove you to LA?

Hirons: “Well, my mum is American, so I was fortunate to not have the logistical challenges that usually come with it. I’d been in London for 10 years, so I felt that maybe I’d come to a bit of an end point with that. I’d exhausted the opportunities available to me there and really wanted a change. I’d had a horrendous breakup, which is always a catalyst for change. I saw the opportunity and it felt really obvious to make the move. It happened really quickly. I didn’t know LA that well, but I’d spent some time and loved what I saw. I love it, but it’s a strange place where you always feel like the new person.”

Handstamp: Totally different city atmospheres in London and LA too…

Hirons: “It can be very isolating. It’s one of the stereotypes about LA that is actually true, it can be a very lonely place, even 10 years in.”

Handstamp: Do you feel as though you have to make way more of a conscious effort to harness connection there?

Hirons: “Absolutely, yes you do. You have to put all of your energy into it, because otherwise the default is being alone all the time. It feels quite unnatural in that way. It’s quite an unnatural way to cultivate a friendship, because you have to be sure you want to travel for an hour across the city to see someone.”

Handstamp: I see what you mean. Do you feel as though your personal investment in music has been partly inspired by that desire to create community?

Hirons: “Definitely. It’s been a huge opener for me, when it comes to meeting people. That’s the route I have to getting to know people. I’ve put together my own band at this point, but also played in other people’s bands and it has encouraged way more social activity.”

Handstamp: You mentioned that you see more shows in LA. Is that because of the part it plays in your social life, or is there something different about going to shows over there?

Hirons: “Honestly, it feels like there’s something different about it, but I can’t really figure out why. There seems to be more venues, it feels like there’s live music all the time and at every level – you have the major bands coming through and so many tiers below that. There is certainly some of my own experience baked into it though, in that my world in London was built around design, rather than music.”

“It felt like a celebration, a party. Everybody was in a trance and it went way past midnight, which is pretty impressive at 90.”

Handstamp: I’ve heard you can’t walk the street without bumping into a session musician over there. Where are your favourite places to see shows in the city?

Hirons: “Definitely Zebulon. Then there’s a venue called 2220 Arts and Archives, which is really good.”

Handstamp: I’ve heard a lot about Zebulon on podcasts. What’s special about it?

Hirons: “I see it as LA’s Café OTO. It started in New York and was quite legendary, because of the breadth of their programming. They still remain pretty committed to interesting music and art. It’s just a venue with a really rich history and has a nice atmosphere.”

Handstamp: What show have you enjoyed the most at Zebulon?

Hirons: “I saw Sun Ra there. That week was incredible, because I saw Sun Ra and This Is Not This Heat, who used to be called This Heat in the ‘80s, then reformed and renamed themselves. Sun Ra Arkestra was incredible. I think Marshall Allen turned 90 that night and it felt like a celebration, a party. Everybody was in a trance and it went way past midnight, which is pretty impressive at 90.”

Handstamp: I can’t even fathom having that energy at 50, never mind 90. Major respect to Marshall. 2220 Arts and Archives, tell me about that place..

Hirons: “It’s specifically a music venue, which used to be called The Bootleg Theatre. They have really great stuff too, really nice atmosphere.”

Handstamp: Which show has had the most profound impact on you?

Hirons: “Honestly, that week I described at Zebulon was particularly epic. I was extremely moved by both of those shows.”

Handstamp: So, the EP is now out. How have you found the experience of sharing the music in a live environment?

Hirons: “It’s been an amazing experience. It’s reactivated the songs that I’ve been sitting with for quite a while. Deconstructing and rearranging the songs to play live has been really fun. This is the first experience ever playing my own music, let alone having my own band, so very exciting. People have responded really well and given me a great response. Very exhilarating.”

Hirons released her debut EP ‘Future Perfect’ via Western Vinyl in November 2025. Subscribe to Handstamp Substack for future interviews, follow @itshandstamp on social media and just bloody listen to Chief Springs on your chosen platform, will you? Illustrations by the excellent Alice Bowsher.

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