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Blue Bayou seemed to appear almost overnight in Oxford in 2023 — what was happening behind the scenes before those first sold-out shows?
All I knew was that I had a catalogue of music that I wanted to play live, and that I had to put a band together to do so. I didn’t realise that you were meant to get shows by approaching a promoter with recordings or demos, and so we found the venues, and booked them ourselves.
That meant we took a lot of ownership over the shows, putting up posters, rehearsing a lot, and spreading the word – we took it really seriously, and I think people responded to that. Well, Chris Barker did, and he became our producer. It helped too that we got a great slot at the student music festival, Wadstock, that year – there we were playing to 800 people at our third show and we told them all to come to our Jericho Tavern gig the next week, so that was the first one to sell out.
Your live performances have been described as “infamous” and confounding — how intentional is that sense of mystery when you’re building a set?
We’re building an almost entirely new set at the moment – for the Carousel Song February Tour – and we’re definitely focusing on variety, surprise, and intrigue. I think the main thing is that none of the band see the point in playing the same song twice, so it makes sense to lean into the changes, rather than push them away. I’ve always liked the idea of getting the band into a position where people don’t know what to expect next – we released the singles in an odd order based on that idea. The goal is to draw people in this way, but I think it also helps the listener approach each song on its own merit, and that’s the hope live too.
Carousel Song has a very tactile, wintry atmosphere. What images or emotions were you trying to capture when you were writing it?
I was trying to capture a sense of real familiarity between people – the weight of a knowing look, after years and years apart. The sort of understanding that allows for inconsistencies, quirks, and contradictions, and can only be born from time. And these characters really are meant to have spent years apart, living whole other lives (as represented by the woman’s daughter).
There’s a wry humour to it – the characters are well aware, by now, of each other’s faults, and of the everyday gravities that have tossed them around and pulled them apart, but it’s as if, in this moment of re-connection, they re-encounter the wisdom of the initial pull that drew them together.
They have enough experience to shun experience: “meet me by the bonfire, slip off your shoes”
You chose tape, hum, and imperfection over a clean studio sound — what does that texture give the song that digital polish wouldn’t?
The biggest bonus was the overtones – I was playing the parlour guitar very quietly, so Sam Godden (studio engineer, Frank’s Dad) had to crank the pre-amps going into the tape machine. When we listened back, there were all these sonic artefacts that had come to the fore from the input being pushed so much, something which the warmth of the tape added to – Sam was convinced that there was a whole series of strings in the background. Even now, when you listen to the intro to the song, it sounds like
there’s more going on than just me playing the guitar. And, in short, I think that gives the song a sprinkling of magic that’s hard to put your finger on.
The arrangement feels like the ground is constantly shifting under the listener. How do you approach dynamics and movement when composing as a group?
Usually just through intuition and repeating the song together as a band. Sometimes I have a specific idea in mind, like I knew Carousel Song wanted to lift before each of the choruses, but other times it develops naturally.
We talk a lot about the structure of tracks, as a number of them contain a break part way through – sometimes the best way to pull off a change is to guide the listener’s ear by marking a dynamic shift, or that’s what we did in December Flowers.
You’ve supported a wide range of artists, from Brown Horse to The Klittens. How have those shows shaped the way you think about your own music?
I think you pick up little tricks from bands all the time (for me that’s a lot in the guitar playing but also the patter between songs). And I think you always feel informed and inspired when you see a very refined act, a band who’s deep into a tour.
It’s made me realise how varied a sound we do have, and how that’s something you have to learn and learn again how to pull off.
Visual art seems central to Blue Bayou, from Fiona Cameron’s Rabbit design to Beth Simcock’s new work. How do you choose collaborators, and how does visual art feed back into the music?
Really we’ve always worked with friends, but in each case we worked with friends whose art we love. Fiona drew the bunny for a card she gave to me at our first show, just to say well done on making the band and to keep going, but we all loved it so much it became the band’s logo. And Beth’s art I always admired at uni, so she was a natural choice when it came to single artwork.
A lot of my writing is image-based, and your imagination and sensitivity towards images is invariably conditioned by your sense for visual art. It’s not that I have paintings in mind when I write songs, or that I “paint” the image I have in mind, but I do, sometimes, use paintings to explain the songs to the band, after the fact. They help open the words up.
Oxford has a strong musical history — how did starting there influence your sound or community?
Starting in Oxford definitely helped us get our feet on the ground – particularly by meeting Chris Barker, who became the producer for most of our tracks, and also Oli Steadman, who helps manage the band. I think it was easier to access these sorts of figures in a smaller city, and it was easier to spread the word around for our first year or so of gigs. There’s also great promoters like Divine Schism and OMS who do wonders for the scene, and knowing Charlie at Truck or Eddie at Common Ground, helped with organising gigs there.
Mainly for personal reasons, we have all since moved to London, and our goal now is to register at a national level, hence all the touring, but the band’s connection is definitely still to Oxford.
After festivals, tours, and growing crowds, how do you balance momentum with protecting the intimacy that defines your music?
I think the biggest thing in this regard is our new rehearsal space. Having a dedicated area, that we go to almost every week, makes it feel that we always have our own space to return to, to try ideas out, and to work on new music.
With an EP on the horizon, what feels different about this chapter of Blue Bayou compared to when you first started?
Working on new music feels that much more intuitive and that much quicker – you know when to keep something simple, or go for something more adventurous, and you have a feel for what will really hit live, or translate well in the studio. There’s a lot more experience in the band as individuals, but also as a unit, and I think we work around each other much more naturally.
Also, the level of ambition is that much higher – to begin with, we were happy just playing the odd show, but now we’re looking for longer, and better tours, bigger stages, festival slots and all the rest. We’re much more open to management, funding, and record deals.
