Unparallelled Joy

Last month the grave of rock was being dug yet again: “It is the end of the rock era. It’s over, in the same way the jazz era is over,” declared veteran DJ and “professor of pop” Paul Gambaccini in The Guardian. “Rock music” he made perfectly clear, “is dead.” The crux of his point was that last year the number of rock songs in the singles chart fell to its lowest level in half a century, with only three tracks appearing in the top 100 best-selling hits in the UK. The fact this says more about the state of singles and the people who buy them seemed to escape Gambaccini, but nonetheless; across blogs, columns, newspapers, Twitter, PMQs, the UN, the forest moon of Endor and beyond the cosmos, the debate raged on: is he right? Is guitar music now nothing but a penniless corpse buried under a mound of ‘meh’? Sitting in front of us two days later appears to be the answer: The Joy Formidable. “It’s just a sound bite,” retorts bassist, Rhydian Dafydd. “People have always said nothing good is going on when there obviously is – the spirit and rebellion of rock and roll will never die.” He, of all people, should know. Born out of love, bonded by ethos and driven by an obscene work ethic, the Welsh trio have finally emerged out of the bowels of obscurity with not only an army of fervent fans, sold out shows and a major label deal amongst other achievements, but the best rock record in a long, long time. You try telling them what they do is dead. ‘Play the long game and you will get to where you want to be’, or so the saying goes. Yet in an age obsessed with speed (whether it be news, downloads or Katie Price’s marriages) the virtues of taking your time seem rather alien – especially in a music industry desperate to make a quick buck. It’s why, since the release of the Sonic Youth dream world of ‘Austere’ two years ago, The Joy Formidable’s stern refusal to cash in on fickle buzz and take the slow path has earned them a reputation as notoriously independent. And with an unshakable self-belief to boot: “Time is the biggest critic,” says front-woman, Ritzy Bryan. “Longevity only comes from a process of time and how well you can write and do the live side of things. It only comes from being fucking good at what you do. And we believe in what we’re doing.”

A lot of bands can spin a quote like that but few can appear to genuinely mean it, but then you just have to look at their track-record in DIY. Despite not being “monitored”, their brilliant self-produced and self released mini-album ‘A Balloon Called Moaning’ managed to shift 10,000 copies here alone (“we should have made a commemorative disc out of cardboard!” jokes their drummer, Matt). Through honing their live shows and embarking upon ridiculous touring schedules they’ve built up the sort of fan-base that saw Arctic Monkeys and Enter Shikari sell out the Astoria on word of mouth alone. In their case it was the 1,100 capacity Electric Ballroom in Camden – sold out with hardly a hint of publicity. It’s the sort of thing which only devoted fanbases can do. The kind of fan-bases that go out of the way to direct music videos – the most famous being banned from YouTube for showing faces in the midst of masturbation – or comes together to form a community. “That’s the one thing that’s been quite touching is just how many people have come to our shows over the last two years, have met and are now really good friends” smiles Ritzy. “And someone’s actually getting married on the night we play Nottingham and they’re having their wedding party at our gig! I mean, that’s fucked up!” With a fan-base like that, it’s no wonder that during our cover shoot, their manager informs us that this is the hardest working band he’s ever dealt with. Having grown up in the same small-town of Mold Flintshire, North Wales, Rhydian was a year above Ritzy in school, yet they rarely spoke.

In fact, as has always been a constant in their lives, it was  the music that eventually brought them together. As teenage years passed and bands came and went, Ritzy and Rhydian’s paths would eventually cross with his band, Sidecar Kisses; which Ritzy, living in Washington at the time, would fly back to join. Eventually, they became a couple but you’ll find no twee love stories here, it seems.  “It was the music first and relationship afterwards,” asserts Ritzy when questioned about it. “It’s was so intertwined that it’s not separate. Some couples do live their lives and work as separate things but we really do spend every waking hour together.” Surely that must prove annoying? “We occasionally have creative differences but it’s healthy,” smiles Rhydian in his girlfriend’s direction. “Yeah, they’re pretty standard arguments,” agrees Ritzy. “We just smash something – not each other – and move on.” From that partnership came the band we know today, with goofy, long-haired Matt Thomas joining on drums two years ago after their original drummer – Justin Stahley – departed. The last time we met he was sleeping on the couple’s sofa and telling tales of walking miles because he couldn’t afford the bus. He tells us today that he’s currently looking for a flat with his girlfriend. As you would expect of a band so stringent in their DIY ethos, they went a long time unsigned despite many, many offers. Not a show went by without some chancer approaching and promising to make them ‘big’ (“we can sniff out the turds,” they assure us). But then last year – off the back of a US tour in aid of Passion Pit’s Ayad Al Adhamy putting out their mini-album there – they began a six-month courtship with Steve Ralbovsky, who had previously signed The Strokes and Kings Of Leon. They signed on the dotted-line with Atlantic off-shoot, Canvasback. Doesn’t signing with a major clash with the whole TJF ethos? “When you’re restricted it helps you to be more creative, but we’ve always been ambitious,” answers Rydian. “When I’ve been thinking of videos and stuff, the things we want to do… I’m certainly not apologetic or worried about the label thing because it’s so secondary to us. We felt really comfortable and felt like we’re on the same page. There’s no bargaining and people weren’t taking over. Plus with Steve it’s definitely music first and foremost with him. He’s not in it for the wrong reasons.” Out of this came ‘The Big Roar’. A début which flirts with the grandiose and visceral while simultaneously burning with perfectionist nuance. Self-produced in their “claustrophobic” bedroom in South London but mixed by Rich Costey (renowned ‘wall of sound’ producer for the likes of Glasvegas and Muse), its most obvious influence is rooted in the late 80’s/early 90’s grunge of bands like The Breeders, but to compare it would be a disservice to their vision: The epic eight-minute opening of ‘The Ever Changing Spectrum Of A Lie’, the maniacal laugh that follows it, the nuclear collapse of ‘Whirring’, the explosive attack of ‘Chapter 2’, the synth-gaze climax of ‘…Greatest Shade’ – it’s a record whose snarling abyss will suck you in. “There is a lot more frustration about the album,” says Ritzy. “The album’s got more of an aggressive tone to it, a darker tone to it. We didn’t want it to be too sonically claustrophobic.” How about lyrically? The themes sound dark. “The old great stories,” answers Rhydian. “Losing friends, unconditional love, mental illness. All those things that tie us together but are really difficult to deal with. Losing family, losing relationships. This band have been on a journey of extremes and this album chronicles that.” We point out that at times the record can have a scattershot lyrical delivery, almost as if Ritzy’s dreaming. We ask her – as lyric writer – to explain these extremes. She seems defensive, almost as if we’re asking something we shouldn’t. “I have a weird way of dealing with the lyrical content because I like the ambiguity of them but at the same time I know everything has got a real sense of meaning. But they are very personal and I don’t like to dissect them, really.” We leave it at that. As the hour interview comes to a close, we ask what their ambitions are with ‘The Big Roar’. “I want it to provide an outlet,” says Rhydian, passionately. “It’s a time of anger and I don’t feel like sometimes there’s a voice for that kind of rebellion. Sometimes things are not OK, and these twee, fucking happy songs…” he trails off. “I think people are getting a bit sick. Politically, financially, globally… you could go on forever. Things need shaking up a bit.” The future – while certainly exciting – is unwritten for The Joy Formidable and whether they will shake things up remains to be seen. But you can be sure of one thing, if they do then it will be strictly on their terms.

‘The Big Roar’ is out now on Canvasback/Atlantic.