Once upon a time, a ‘band’ formed. By ‘band’, we’re talking a trio of experimentally-minded novices who were bored with the traditional concept of a band. Bored with concepts such as drummers, bassists, formulaic rock structures, and general safety. Bored with convention. They also had an attic full of dusty antiques. And thus Esben And The Witch came into being.
They’re lovely people, though they do take their music – and the projection of it – most seriously. A good example of this is a recent photo shoot where they obstinately refused to smile for the despairing lenswoman.
“It’d hardly look right, would it?” says Rachel, smiling broadly.
EATW’s debut single proper, out now on Too Pure, is an honestly exciting moment for them. Dan only met Thomas at Christmas 2007, teaming up with Rachel a month or so later, and by the end of 2008 they’d still played just half a dozen shows. However, the last quarter of 09 saw that most unseemly of diseases – ‘media frenzy’ – take hold, and suddenly they appear to be making page-length magazine features a regular habit.
“Our first gig was the first time I’d ever sung in front of more than just my flatmates,” says Rachel. “I’d always wanted to be involved with music, but I hadn’t really thought about being a singer – it’s only in the last year I’ve convinced myself I can actually sing.”
Thomas was also new to the live stage (as well as, he claims, the guitar itself) and when he states that they’ve “never had any thoughts about what it’s going to be in the future,” it’s easy to believe.
With the recent upturn in interest, are they worried about being corralled into a neat image-shaped box?
“The influences cited for us have so far been quite different,” says Thomas, “which we see as encouraging. We liked being described as ‘nightmare pop’, the juxtaposition of those words.”
Accessibly discomforting?”
Dan nods. “It takes on the two things we want from music. It’s not that we don’t want to be popular or accessible, but at the same time it needs to be interesting, innovative. A morbid fascination.”
This term meets with band approval.
“When people say they find it scary,” says a grinning Thomas, “I can’t help but like that.”
Current comparisons with The XX (who Esben will support at Shepherd’s Bush Empire next month) are understandable, but a little misplaced. The timid minimalism of their hyped compadres is swept aside by the bold non-conformism of tracks such as ‘Eumenides’, where for over two minutes – bang in the middle of a beguilingly beautiful number – the sound of ascending aircraft full of faulty lawnmowers invades all melody and beat. All reason is blotted out before pinging back into tranquillity, as if nothing was amiss. It’s stunningly effective, and live renditions leave a disorientated audience checking the sound desk to make sure the house engineer hasn’t thrown a wobbly.
So, possibly closer to the mark would be the more obtuse areas of Portishead, carousing with Siouxsie, with the occasional Aphex Twin tampering. There are no pre-ordained attempts at anthemic crowd-pleasers or catchy hooklines here, despite the created swirl being intoxicatingly easy to digest.
The songwriting process is similarly unregimented. “We always have ideas kicking around, but we just let them happen,” expounds Dan. “Some are written in half an hour – there’s no point in cluttering a song – but others take…well, ‘Light Streams’ we’ve had as a concept since last May and we’ve got the intro chords and… that’s it. But the concept’s there!”
“That’s why our song lengths vary so much,” adds Thomas. “‘Corridors’, for instance, is over nine minutes.”
Dan continues, “Some people have such a strict idea of what you are and aren’t ‘allowed’ to do… it becomes so structured. It breeds blandness. That’s what happened with post-rock – bands all recreating the same album, but maybe not reaching the original heights.”
And this is what sets them apart. Esben enjoy The Libertines, they like Arctic Monkeys, but they’re genuinely baffled by why anyone would want to do that again. When I mention the old Victoriana they have littered around the stage, a hurt sounding Dan says, “That’s my front room!”
Will they take it all along to Shepherds Bush Empire?
“Definitely!” they cry in unison, “Though we need more stuff – we’re on the hunt at the moment, things keep breaking!”
“It’s a bit of a talking point that we do it,” says a furrow-browed Thomas, “but more puzzling is why more bands don’t do it. It’s an extra flightcase, that’s it. And it’s something we’d like to develop, with lights, the visual aspect. Trying to tie it all to one thing – the stage, the music, the imagery… we want it to be immersive.”
“We’re reluctant to go into the detail of lyrics,” says Dan. “Obviously we’ll know what it’s about, but it’s great when people read different things into different songs and we think “that’s nice, I like that.””
“We’d rather people looked deeper into the songs, than us just droning on about them…” concludes Thomas.
And with that, we up sticks and head for the pub. It’s bitterly cold outside, with a driving wintry wind. Somehow though, impending discomfort via Esben’s particular brand of witchcraft has never been more appealing.
Photo by Kevin Mason For Garage Studios