New Blood: Kassidy

Glasgow's Kassidy are disappointed by their own inability to transcend scientific laws. “I would love to go see us but it's a physical impossibility,” says Lewis Andrew, one of the four guitarists comprising the band. “When people see us live it makes them open their eyes; they don't shoegaze and chat, so much as try to solve the equation.”

Formed in 2008, they needed a slight name change to avoid a grisly lawsuit (from the rapper Cassidy of Swizz Beatz and manslaughter charge infamy). Based on the philosophy that a great song will sound impressive whether jammed full of competing instruments or played on a lone acoustic guitar, they stumbled upon their unusual set-up. “We wanted it to be a vocal band,” explains Barrie-James O’Neill, “but we didn't expect it to remain acoustic until we just fell in love with the idea and the imagery of it.”  

The four are musicians with gigging backgrounds outside of Kassidy, having served their time on penniless toilet tours – all part of the fun, of course. “I'd do it even if it was for £2 a night,” says O’Neill. It seems unlikely that he'll have to now – they've reportedly signed a £400,000 four-album deal with Mercury before their debut has even arrived. “We went to the crossroads on a cold Wednesday night in Glasgow and Mercury picked us up,” deadpans O’Neill, unruffled by the huge pressure. “They say four albums – it might be one. If they want four, we'll give them four.”

For a band with such a cohesive sound, they have wildly contrasting tastes encompassing rock'n'roll, funk, hip-hop, blues and sun-kissed 60s surf pop. They split the songwriting duties for the sake of an easier journey together. “We've made the sound progress together,” says O’Neill. “We thought, to avoid any friction, we'd just share for a while.”

So how does this socialistic songwriting process begin? “Melody comes first,” O’Neill affirms. “Most of our songs come from melody, rhythm, force and sound. We normally write the lyrics to the song once we've got the structure.” Loosely telling the nature of their lyrics and music, O’Neill hints that there’s an air of escapism to Kassidy that marks them out from the pack. “It’s about things you've never heard of and things that you believe but you never see – matters that are bigger than us, basically.”

Their debut album, Hope Street, is due out in August and was produced by Jim Abbiss (Arctic Monkeys, Ladytron). But before that, they're playing T in the Park again after a memorable slot on the T Break stage last year – a fete the band considers a “milestone” in their short career thus far.

Despite relative local success, a love of their city and the house they share in it, Kassidy can’t identify any Scottish contemporaries and find themselves out in the wilderness. “It's quite hard to have friendly peers in Glasgow,” says Andrew. “They shake hands and smile but they really wanna kill you.”

O’Neill agrees, apparently reveling in the adversity. “We're surrounded by people who think we should fail, which I love, because it'll make the success all the sweeter if we get it.”