Alt-J: I voted Lib Dem last time, but now I'll vote Labour, because Diane Abbott is a complete legend

The Mercury Music Prizewinners talk to Rob Pollard.

Rarely has a debut album made such an impression on UK listeners. An Awesome Wave, Alt-J’s brilliant first full length release, scooped the prestigious Mercury Music Prize last year, and this week was awarded an Ivor Novello for Best Album. It will go down as one of the great debut albums of recent times: difficult to define but beautifully listenable.

The band’s early success came on the back of very little promotion. They met whilst studying at Leeds University and eschewed the conventional route into live performance. Where most new bands try their hand playing in dirty little venues in and around city centres, Alt-J opened the doors of their student house to as many of their friends as they could, playing live in their own front room to a captive audience of like-minded young people. It got people talking, and proved that they were serious about their craft. To this day, those early gigs are some of the band’s most treasured live memories.

Their first single, Tessellate, received radio play when the band were still pretty much unknown nationally, bringing some authenticity back the word "indie". They avoided the usual PR activities that new bands are desperate to explore, yet found themselves gaining momentum. Now, with their audience growing rapidly, they’ve become one of the best known bands in the country. Their cautious approach has worked very nicely indeed.

They recently played Manchester Academy to a packed and eclectic audience; further proof of their growing appeal. It was the latest in a long line of great live performances, demonstrating the depth of their debut album and the potential of their sound in a live format. Beforehand, I spoke to keyboard player Gus Unger-Hamilton to get his thoughts on life as a member of one the finest bands around.

The Mercury Music Prize is an award that still carries weight. How has winning it changed things for the band?

It’s hard to say because stuff was going well before that, and it’s carried on like that after the award. It’s not like we were sitting around not having any touring to do, and then we won the Mercury and everything went amazingly. Stuff was good before that. It’s not turned us into a huge band, it’s just been a nice asset that’s probably given us a bit more momentum to carry on touring, which we are doing now. It’s been good but it hasn’t been crazy.

You’re playing for Now Wave this evening, who are generally considered the finest music promoters in Manchester. They rescued an ailing scene, changing live music in this city for the better. Do you enjoy playing for them?

We love Now Wave, they’re our favourite promoters in the whole country, and Manchester was the city in the UK that first really adopted us as a band even before Leeds. We used to come to Manchester and get great receptions, so it’s awesome to be back now, and reminds me how much I really like it here.

Now Wave are awesome. The first night they booked us, we were supporting a band called Fiction at a little pub called The Castle, and ever since then they’ve showed huge faith in us. We played some really bad gigs for them and they’ve never said: ‘go on, fuck off’. Like, one gig we did, one of the keyboards wasn’t working and it was generally not a good gig, but Wes was like: ‘you know what, don’t worry about it, let’s just carry on with this relationship,’ and they’ve always been fantastic to us, really great.

Is there any word on a follow-up Alt-J album?

We are going into the studio for sort of odd clumps of days here and there over the summer in between festivals to try and hammer out some demos and get the second album going, but we’re not saying too much about it right now. Touring is taking up most of our time but it’s difficult because, on the one hand, our fans want a new album but they also want to see us live, but you can’t really have both [laughs]. You can have one or the other. It’s not that easy to write a new album when you’re touring all the time.

Because the first album was so unique, it’s going to be really interesting to see where you take the sound. Is there a plan?

There’s not a plan for the sound. It’s basically going to be the same formula, which is don’t limit ourselves to one type of sound and see what happens. We’re never gonna put an album out unless we’re happy with it, obviously, and I think it will be recognisable as Alt-J. We’re just gonna see what happens.

Which festivals are you doing this summer?

Reading and Leeds, Glastonbury, Latitude, Tea in the Park, so the big UK ones, and then we’re going to America to play Sasquatch and Lollapalooza. We’re also doing Summer Sonic in Japan, we’re doing European festivals, Russian festivals, Canadian festivals. Yeah, we’re doing a lot of festivals.

How does being booked for festivals work? Do you have input in which ones you want to do, or do you get what you’re given?

You have your booking agent who essentially decides. The offers will come in and we’ll say: ‘we want to do this one; we don’t want to do this one.’ Occasionally, you might get a small festival which is just starting and you might say: ‘you know what, if they make an offer, and it’s not enough money, don’t say no because we’ll make it work because we really want to do it’. For us, we’re happy for our agent to sort it out, quite frankly.

Latitude is a special festival, you must be looking forward to that.

Yeah, it’s gonna be great. We played a small stage last year and we’re headlining a big stage this year, so that’s fantastic, we can’t wait.

Things are going so well for Alt-J right now. It’s just been an upward trajectory for some time. How does it feel to be in a band like that?

It’s just busy. You don’t get time to sit back and think about how successful you are, you just get on with the job. You see a lot of dressing rooms, and you spend a lot of time on the tour bus, and it’s good. I think it’ll be nice when we finish touring and we can have pats on the back all round and then get some time off to go on holiday and feel a bit more like you’ve earned something. But for now we’re just concentrating on staying sane and honouring our touring commitments.

Do you make plans?

No, we don’t make plans. We could be completely out of fashion by next year, so you just have to take advantage of the opportunities while they’re being offered to you and just take it like that, really.

Margaret Thatcher’s death caused a media frenzy. It seemed to many of us that the press tried to rewrite history with the way they airbrushed out certain aspects of her premiership. What did you make of all that?

I think it’s unprofessional that she was elevated above other Prime Ministers in terms of her funeral and stuff that like. Equally, holding "celebrate Maggie’s death" parties was tasteless, and almost a bit stupid. Let’s face it, she was not really doing very much during the last years of her life. It wasn’t as though right up until she died she was snatching milk, or closing down hospitals. I wouldn’t want to celebrate anybody’s death in that kind of way. I didn’t watch the funeral, so I don’t really know what went down, but I think almost all our newspapers are right-wing these days, so it’s to be expected. When the BBC is full of former Young Conservatives, what do you expect?

It’s interesting you think there’s a right-wing bias in the media because many people believe the opposite.

I think it’s fine because we have a free press, so whatever. I’m glad I live in a country where newspapers are allowed a political bent, but it’s kind of sad that almost every paper could be called right-wing.

What’s the future relationship between Britain and the EU?

I don’t know what’s gonna happen, I really don’t. I think people will often say one thing in a poll and do another thing when it comes to the day of a vote. I think the UKIP thing is a flash in the pan; it’s a protest vote and a way of people airing their disgruntlement at the government, and so on. It does worry me that the Conservatives are going to lurch to the right in order to win back these voters that they think they’re losing, which they’re probably not actually losing. I think in the age of Twitter and instant media, stuff’s getting far too reactionary. There’s a lot of two-week flavour of the month stories that the government shouldn’t be changing policies drastically because of.

So, for you, the UKIP surge will come to nothing, and at a General Election the country will just ignore them?

Yeah, I don’t think people are gonna vote for them in a General Election. It doesn’t worry me too much because they’re not going to win, and hopefully it just means the Conservatives get fewer votes and Labour get more. Or if not more, then not fewer.

How would you sum up the coalition thus far?

Nothing in England ever gets that bad, does it? I certainly don’t agree with their policies on employment and Disability Living Allowance, I think it’s awful. I voted Lib Dem at the election and wouldn’t vote for them again. It’s hard to say, and I don’t know if Labour would be doing a much better job, to be honest.

There were quite a few people who got swept up by Nick Clegg and the Liberal Democrats in 2010.

Yeah, I did. I think Greg Mulholland, the Lib Dem MP for Leeds North-West, voted against the tuition fee rise, he was one of the very few who rebelled, so in a sense I’m glad I voted for Mulholland, I think he’s a good guy. I now live in Hackney, so I’ll probably vote Labour at the next election because Diane Abbott is a complete legend.

Do you like Ed Miliband?

I don’t dislike him, but I don’t think he’s gonna be Prime Minister if I’m completely honest, but we shall see. I’m not one of those who likes to bash him, but equally I can’t get that excited about him.

How does it feel when people cover your songs?

It’s lovely. Mumford & Sons did a nice cover of Tessellate, Paramore covered Matilda, both for Radio 1, so that was cool. It’s also great fun to watch covers on YouTube because they can often be very interesting.

It was interesting that when you were just starting out, you didn’t plunge into the usual gigging scene, you kind of did it more on your own terms. Is that the advice you’d give to new bands starting out?

We just didn’t really like playing gigs; if you like playing gigs, then play gigs. Also, it probably makes you a better band if you play lots of gigs. We had to really catch up big time to bring the live show up to scratch with the recordings when we started because, really, we hadn’t had a lot of practice playing live. So I would say play as many gigs as you can, but equally do things on your own terms, don’t publicise yourself too much, don’t start a band and then make a Twitter account immediately because you can, that’s just stupid in my opinion.

Any films or art exhibitions you recommend seeing?

I just managed to catch the Light Show at the Hayward, which was really good, I loved that. I saw The Place Beyond the Pines, Ryan Gosling’s new film, which was pretty good. But no, I think the Hayward is the only really culture type thing I’ve done in the last couple of weeks. I could get out of the venues we’re playing at in the afternoon and go to galleries if I could be bothered, and sometimes I do, but more often than not I just watch Breaking Bad!

Do you think your next album will push Alt-J on and sell more records, or are you happy with the size of the band at the moment?

I’m very happy with the size of the band. I don’t want to become hugely enormous, playing big stadiums. I’d love to stay where we are right now for ten years, that’d be really, really nice. I think, inevitably, we’ll be able to keep on doing this for a few more years now because we have a decent fan base to at least justify carrying on touring for the next few years.

I’m still really surprised at how Radio 1 adopted Alt-J. When I first heard your songs, I just imagined you to be a 6 Music sort of band, but Radio 1 have really plugged you hard. Did that surprise you?

It’s very surprising, yeah. The late night Radio 1 new music DJ, Huw Stephens, was an early supporter, and it just never stopped growing. It was like, Huw Stephens will play you, and then we’ll put you on the New Music We Trust playlist, and then we’ll put you on the C List, and people liked it so we were on the B List, and before you know it we were on the A List, and it was, like, "shit, how did that happen?" There’s was nothing that magical about it, it just kind of happened in a nice, progressive way.

What’s the best part of being in a band for you? Is it live performance, writing songs, or the recording process?

I think it’s recording, because that’s the most magically, alchemical bit of being in a band. You go in the studio and come out thinking "wow, we just did that," so that’s really nice.

When we’ve spoken in the past, you’ve praised the songwriting skills of Joe [Newman, Alt-J singer and guitarist]. Do you think he can consistently deliver at the level he has done so far?

We’re just trying to make sure he doesn’t get a girlfriend so he’s miserable, then he’ll write an amazing second album. I’m not worried about it. The new songs we’re working on right now are sounding really good, so it’s exciting.

Alt-J, with Gus Unger-Hamilton centre. Photograph: Getty Images

Rob Pollard is a freelance writer. You can follow him on Twitter @_robpollard

JAMIE KINGHAM/MILLENNIUM
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Snakebites and body parts

The city at the edge of an apocalypse: a love letter to Los Angeles.

I was emailing with Kenneth Anger, the film-maker, when the coyotes across the street in Griffith Park started howling.

That’s partially true.

I was emailing him to ask if he’d direct a music video for me. Maybe Lucifer Rising 2.0. Or anything.

Just him in the kitchen making tea, as recorded on his iPhone.

Kenneth Anger is alive and well in Santa Monica, so why not ask him to direct a video for me? Hopefully, he’ll respond. We’ve never met, so I sent an email to him, not with him. That’s the partial truth.

But the coyotes did start howling.

It’s the single best sound in Los Angeles, or any city. Is there another city where you can email an 89-year-old devotee of Aleister Crowley while listening to a few dozen coyotes screaming and howling and ripping the night into little pieces?

No. Just here. This oddness by the sea and an inch from a billion acres of Arrakis.

I never thought I’d end up living in Los Angeles, but I’ve ended up living in Los Angeles. This dirtiest, strangest paradise.

Yesterday I went hiking in a two-million-acre state park that’s 30 minutes from my house. A state park bigger than all of New York City. And it’s 30 minutes away. With no people. Just bears and pumas and coyotes and snakes.

And other things. Abandoned bridges. An observatory where Albert Einstein used to go to watch space.

What a strange city.

A perfect city. Perfect for humans at the edge of this strangely unfolding apocalypse. A gentle apocalypse with trade winds and Santa Ana winds and the biannual vicious storm that rips eucalyptus trees up by their roots.

What a strange city. And it’s my home.

Today I hiked to the back of the Hollywood sign. This was before Kenneth Anger and the coyotes.

The tourists were dropping like flies on the long, hot mountain trail, not aware that this isn’t a city with the safe European ­infrastructure that keeps them happy
and/or alive.

Every now and then, a tourist dies in the hills, bitten by a snake or lost at night. The emergency rooms are full of tourists with snakebites and heatstroke.

Where are the European safeguards?

Fuck us if we need safeguards. Go live in a place like this gentle wasteland where you’re not at the top of the food chain. If you’re not in danger of being eaten at some point in the day, you’re probably not breathing right.

I hope Kenneth Anger writes back.

 

22 May

I drove some friends around my neighbourhood. They want to live here. Why wouldn’t they? Pee-wee Herman and Thom Yorke live up the street.

David Fincher lives a block away. It’s blocks and blocks of jasmine-scented name-
dropping.

It’s warm in the winter and it’s weird all year round.

And there’s a Frank Lloyd Wright that looks like a lunatic Mayan spaceship.

And there go the coyotes again, howling like adorable delegates of death.

They’re so smart, I wish they would make me their king.

You hate Los Angeles? Who cares? You made a mistake, you judged it like you’d judge a city. Where’s the centre?

There’s no centre. You want a centre? The centre cannot hold. Slouching towards Bethlehem. Things fall apart.

Amazing how many titles can come from one poem. What’s a gyre?

Yeats and Kenneth Anger and Aleister Crowley. All these patterns.

Then we had brunch in my art deco pine-tree-themed restaurant, which used to sell cars and now sells organic white tea and things.

The centre cannot hold. I still have no idea what a gyre is.

Maybe something Irish or Celtic.

It’s nice that they asked me to write this journal.

Things fall apart.

So you hate Los Angeles? Ha. It still loves you, like the sandy golden retriever it is. Tell me again how you hate the city loved by David Lynch and where David Bowie made his best album? Listen to LA Woman by the Doors and watch Lynch’s Lost Highway and read some Joan Didion – and maybe for fun watch Nightcrawler – and tell me again how you hate LA.

I fucking love this sprawling inchoate pile of everything.

Even at its worst, it’s hiding something baffling or remarkable.

Ironic that the city of the notoriously ­vapid is the city of deceiving appearance.

After brunch, we went hiking.

Am I a cliché? Yes. I hike. I do yoga. I’m a vegan. I even meditate. As far as clichés go, I prefer this to the hungover, cynical, ruined, sad, grey cliché I was a decade ago.

“You’re not going to live for ever.”

Of course not.

But why not have a few bouncy decades that otherwise would’ve been spent in a hospital or trailing an oxygen tank through a damp supermarket?

 

24 May

A friend said: “The last time I had sex, it was warm and sunny.”

Well, that’s helpful.

October? June? February?

No kidding, the coyotes are howling again. I still love them. Have you ever heard a pack of howling coyotes?

Imagine a gaggle of drunk college girls who also happened to be canine demons. Screaming with blood on their teeth.

It’s such a beautiful sound but it also kind of makes you want to hide in a closet.

No Kenneth Anger.

Maybe I’m spam.

Vegan spam.

Come on, Kenneth, just make a video for me, OK?

I’ll take anything.

Even three minutes of a plant on a radiator.

I just received the hardcover copy of my autobiography, Porcelain. And, like anyone, I skimmed the pictures. I’m so classy, eating an old sandwich in my underpants.

A friend’s dad had got an advance copy and was reading it. I had to issue the cautious caveat: “Well, I hope he’s not too freaked out by me dancing in my own semen while surrounded by a roomful of cross-dressing Stevie Nicks-es.”

If I ever have kids, I might have one simple rule. Or a few simple rules.

Dear future children of mine:

1) Don’t vote Republican.

2) Don’t get facial tattoos.

3) Don’t read my memoir.

I don’t need my currently unmade children to be reading about their dear dad during his brief foray into the world of professional dominatrixing, even if it was brief.

The first poem I loved was by Yeats: “When You Are Old”. I sent it to my high-school non-girlfriend. The girl I longed for, unrequitedly. I’m guessing I’m not the first person to have sent “When You Are Old” to an unrequited love.

Today the sky was so strangely clear. I mean, the sky is almost always clear. We live in a desert. But today it felt strangely clear, like something was missing. The sun felt magnified.

And then, at dusk, I noticed the gold light slanting through some oak trees and hitting the green sides of the mountains (they were green as we actually had rain over the winter). The wild flowers catch the slanting gold light and you wonder, this is a city? What the fuck is this baffling place?

I add the “fuck” for street cred. Or trail cred, as I’m probably hiking. As I’m a cliché.

You hike, or I hike, in the middle of a city of almost 20 million people and you’re alone. Just the crows and the spiralling hawks and the slanting gold light touching the oak trees and the soon-to-go-away
wild flowers.

The end of the world just feels closer here, but it’s nice, somehow. Maybe the actual end of the world won’t be so nice but the temporal proximity can be OK. In the slanting gold light. You have to see it, the canyons in shadow and the tops of the hills in one last soft glow.

What a strange non-city.

 

25 May

They asked for only four journal entries, so here’s the last one.

And why is # a “hashtag”?

Hash? Like weird meat or weird marijuana? Tag, like the game?

At least “blog” has an etymology, even if, as a word, it sounds like a fat clog in a drain.

A friend who works in an emergency room had a patient delivered to her who had a croquet ball in his lower intestine. I guess there’s a lesson there: always have friends who work in emergency rooms, as they have the best stories.

No coyotes tonight. But there’s a long, lonesome, faraway train whistle or horn. Where?

Where in LA would there be a long, lonesome, faraway train whistle or horn?

It’s such a faraway sound. Lonesome hoboes watching the desert from an empty train car. Going where?

I met a woman recently who found human body parts in some bags while she
was hiking.

Technically, her dogs found them.

Then she found the dogs.

And then the sky was full of helicopters, as even in LA it’s unusual to have human hands and things left in bags near a hiking trail a few hundred yards from Brad Pitt’s house.

What is this place?

When I used to visit LA, I marvelled at the simple things, like gas stations and guest bedrooms.

I was a New Yorker.

And the gas stations took credit cards. At. The. Pumps.

What was this magic?

And people had Donald Judd beds in their living rooms, just slightly too small for actual sleeping – but, still, there’s your Donald Judd bed. In your living room at the top of the hill somewhere, with an ocean a dozen miles away but so clear you can see Catalina.

They drained the reservoir and now don’t know what to do with it.

Good old LA, confused by things like empty reservoirs in the middle of the city.

Maybe that’s where the lonesome train lives. And it only comes out at night, to make the sound of a lonesome train whistle, echoing from the empty concrete reservoir that’s left the city nonplussed.

“We’ve never had an empty reservoir in the city before.”

So . . . Do something great with it. I know, it’s a burden being given a huge gift of ­empty real estate in the middle of the city.

Tomorrow I’m meeting some more friends who’ve moved here from New York.

“We have a guest bedroom!” they crow.

A century ago, the Griffith Park planners planted redwoods across the street. And now the moon is waning but shining, far away but soft, through the redwoods.

No coyotes, but a waning moon through some towering redwoods is still really OK. As it’s a city that isn’t a city, and it’s my home.

Goodnight.

Moby’s memoir, “Porcelain”, is published by Faber & Faber

This article first appeared in the 26 May 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The Brexit odd squad