Bristol’s band of brothers’ Fin Jacque tells us why he’s not the easiest frontman to work with and that rubber willies just aren’t funny. They play Kendal Calling, 29 July, and Bingley Music Live, 4 Sept.
Tell us a bit about your sound and your influences.
Stuff we’ve made recently has been influenced a lot by people like PJ Harvey, Pavement, maybe T Rex, Massive Attack, The Fall. I don’t know how to describe what we sound like. Quite 1990s in terms of guitars, with a strange vocal over the top that’s out of place in quite an English way.
How have you evolved as a band over the years?
It’s a broad question. The simplest answer is that we have changed the line-up. A by-product of that has been that I am able to write my own songs again. I’m not saying that it’s gold – I’m just not a particularly diplomatic person to make music with, I don’t think.
Were there any alternative band names before you arrived at this one?
What are you up to at the moment artistically?
Writing an album and it feels fucking fantastic. As I mentioned before, we spent a long time completely debilitated as a band because of interpersonal discord. It felt like this record was itching to come out from beneath my skin and mutating into an untamable seven-headed beast. Now that it’s being let out, finally, everything feels much better. We’re recording it as we go along between home-ish studios in London and Brighton. It’s all very raw again. And the songs are better.
How do you stand out from the crowd in a saturated industry?
I think we stick so far out of it that we aren’t even part of it, to be honest. The truth is we don’t enjoy it. We just do our own little thing and we enjoy that, and if other people enjoy it too then it means we carry on. Really sincerely, I believe that we could easily have jumped on the bandwagon of the trendy NME bands ages ago, and we didn’t. I’m glad. It feels like the cult is dying and boring and the view from the outside depresses me. I don’t think I’m a cynic – I just lack the skill of convincing oneself as an artist that you are part of a worthwhile movement when the movement isn’t there. I can’t really help it.
What’s on your rider?
Jameson’s Irish whiskey or Arthur Bell’s scotch and a crate of Guinness.
Tell us about your worst live show.
We played the Reeperbahn festival in Hamburg for the first time last year and our ex-guitarist hid a dildo down his leg and no one laughed. Could have been fine but just wasn’t. Bad show but no hard feelings – it’d probably put a smile on his face to see that in print!
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