Adults Only: Desperate Journalist interviewed
We speak to north London alt-goth-rockers Desperate Journalist about growing up and their sophomore album, the aptly named... Grow Up
“Can I ask you a question?" Absolutely, we reply. “What music are you into – you know, apart from us?" A pause. Just long enough for Simon Drowner’s bandmates to check that he’s serious before they collapse into incredulous laughter. “You know, apart from us?” mimics singer Jo Bevan, but Drowner is unruffled: “I didn’t mean it like that.” They leave him on the hook for a little longer but he’s in the clear. It’s only fair, after all, to assume that interviewing a band for the third time is indicator enough of something other than duty.
Warm, conversational and able to smartly critique their own work, Desperate Journalist are an interviewer's dream. This time around, it’s the imminent release of second album, the excellent Grow Up, that sees us decamp to the back room of a Derby club – where, later that evening, the band will blitz a sold-out and receptive room – to explore the creative process behind the record.
“The first album was really not so considered at all,” begins guitarist Rob Hardy. “We really didn’t know we were making an album until about half way through. It was only as we got to the end of five days of studio time that we realised that it was definitely an album we were recording. We were like: 'Shit! Better get some more songs!' Whereas this one was entirely written, conceived and recorded as an album.”
And you can tell. That eponymous 2015 debut was an invigorating re-write of classic Brit indie guitar pop; Desperate Journalist’s post-punk spirit and Bevan’s lyrical acuity made for an immersive and powerful experience. But Grow Up is fuller, richer by some distance: more complex arrangements; bigger, brighter hooks; a lyrical endeavour that deftly shifts viewpoint and tone throughout. “I think that came naturally,” says Bevan. “We’ve played together for a while now and so we know what we can do. Like, you come to know what Caz (Helbert, drummer) might come up with on drums and what Simon might come up with on bass.”
Hardy agrees: “It’s the natural outcome of having spent more time together and so you do become better musicians, of course. Caz’s drumming is a big thing. She had never really played before we started and so we almost had some limitations with the first album – in a nice way. Everything had to be simple and straightforward. You couldn’t go, ‘Oh Caz, do this really complex, syncopated thing.’” Which wouldn’t have fitted anyway, perhaps? “No, absolutely. It wouldn’t. But as we started to write for this album, and you know your drummer really can do this stuff now, well that becomes very freeing as a writer. It allows you to push yourself," concludes Hardy.
“Also, in the studio,” adds Drowner, “we don’t get someone in to record us. We make all the decisions ourselves. So this time around, we’d learned how to make it sound better. We listen to the first one and we can tell you what we don’t like about it. The new one was done to a click track so it’s actually broadly in time." Helbert knots her brow: “Broadly? Perfectly in time, Simon. Perfectly."
Two albums in, Desperate Journalist are a deeply connected unit. Not just as a live act, where they perform with a violent energy and an unerring precison, but as a group of individuals, too. As we hunch over afternoon pints, they commit to discussing their music with passion and with great care. As one speaks, the others pause and listen. “We knew we had a deep bond when we first got together,” says Hardy. “In terms of me and Jo, certainly, I can’t now imagine writing with another singer. I can’t imagine someone else singing my songs or someone playing bass on them in such a distinct, aggressive manner, or anyone but Caz playing drums on them.
“When we did the first one, I was obsessed with making it really coherent," explains Hardy. "So with this one, there was a real intent to recognise bits that we had only touched on and to push them that little bit further. There are more distinct changes in speed and feel, and I was quite keen to do some slower songs. I thought we had the potential to be really good at that but we hadn’t really done it before." Bevan agrees: “There’s a depth that there perhaps wasn’t on the first. I still really like the first album and I think there’s a charm in how we throw everything screaming at the wall, in a way. But it’s cool to now know that we can do things that have more space, more atmosphere.”
Helbert sums up the band’s collective intent when she says: “It’s all about the song. My favourite drummers are all just very, very tight. Take Sean from the Manics. What he does doesn’t sound at all overly complicated but it is very musical and, ultimately, it serves the song." Bevan adds: “I think that’s the thing for all of us. We all sing or play in a way that brings the best from the song. It’s not the 'me’ show and when that starts to happen, it all becomes less connected to the message and the intent of the music."
Hardy chimes in: “Yes, that’s true, this was never about being a vehicle for showing off how good any of us are as individuals.” Pause. Everyone’s thinking it. “Apart from me, occasionally...” This time the laughter goes on for perhaps a little too long. “But, seriously, there’s not a guitar solo there because I fancy it but because there should actually be one," continues Hardy. "Similarly, I imagine Jo doesn’t just go nuts at one bit because she wants to show off the range of her voice.”
Aside from its expansive musicality, Grow Up is a showcase once again for Bevan’s lyrics. Her dense narratives and heightened language fashion drama and poetry, and feed much of the album’s connective tissue. There are pointed dialogues, dark reflection and she prods fearlessly at the gauze of memory. When she sings, 'Oh like a freight train I’m coming for your head / I am the chest pain that pins you to your bed' (All Over), that’s Grow Up’s untrammelled fury in a nutshell but there are moments of fragility and often harsh self-assessment that are as relatable as they are startling.
“Well I think that is a fair assessment and, obviously, very complimentary, so thank you. I think, on the first album, I was just randomly picking from bits and pieces of things that just occurred to me," explains Bevan. "With this one, I started writing a few things and realised it was going along a sort of theme of...” She stops for a moment. “It was kind of organic in that I’m at the stage in my life where I’m considering what it is to be, like, a proper person. So that naturally came out in all the stuff I was writing about anyway. So, yeah, it is more consistent, more thematically cohesive, and the general emotions I have around that situation are fury and self-doubt.
"I think it’s a bit more reflective, this record, lyrically, than the first one, which was a bit more outwardly aggressive. This one is a bit more introspective, which is a bit of a cliché but... I can’t not just write about how I feel about things. I’m not going to make anything up.”
The great myth of the shared musical/lyrical experience is that the trade-off always works in both the artist’s and the listener’s favour: a problem shared is a problem halved. And while Bevan confirms that the process is cathartic and unstoppable, it is entirely possible, as a listener, to come away from Grow Up feeling great empathy and very connected while not necessarily feeling any better. Bevan laughs. “Can we have that for the press release?" deadpans Drowner.
“Look,” says Bevan, “all of the bands I’ve cared about and connected with, I’ve had the reaction you’ve just described – where it’s felt incredibly personal and that the emotion was real, and also expressed in either such a poetic or identifiable way that it becomes a universal thing and beyond just ‘oh this particular person just did this to me or whatever.’ That's just very specific and so it doesn’t transfer. You have to broaden. So, that’s a really, really good thing to hear. That’s what I want people to take from it. I want people to have that sort of reaction to it and connection with it, and I want people to find it useful and important.” A final pause. "And enjoyable... hopefully!"
Grow Up is released on 24 Mar via Fierce Panda; Desperate Journalist play Nice'N'Sleazy, Glasgow, 31 Mar