We love Failure. In all its forms and meanings. It’s what makes us who we are as writers/reviewers/ranters/human beings. We love the band, too.
Sorry for the upbeat/stupid intro, this is more of a collective piece instead of the usual “one person army” approach we’ve done in the site. For this very special edition of “looking back at…” we cajoled and twisted a few arms around. Some people replied, others finally managed to work out the “ignore” button. Booyah. Here’s what some collected thoughts on that massive piece of rock called Fantastic Planet.
It was because of a happy accident that I found this band, and it only took me less than one hour to fall in love with this project: a Swedish band from Västergötland made of 4 minds, being one the mastermind of it all: Mr. Gustav Ejstes.
The Twilight Sad is pretty particular beast. They swagger some great music, coupled with a visual motif in most fof their albums’ artwork. After a very intense show in Tramlines 2010, I was set to interview them and, frankly, was worried about this. Some of their videos and album covers might look like a good, optimistic day in Iain Banks (!) head, but the band are quite cheerful, if a bit nesh, but still a nice bunch. They look knackered ( I later find out they had a broken tyre on their way to Sheffield) but still ask if I’m okay to wait for them to get stuff from the stage to their van.
I meet James Graham (vocals) inside the Sheffield city hall. He’s taking some buckfast (for medicinal purposes, of course), telling me about this drink being frowned upon in Glasgow as it is assumed that only criminals drink it. I joke about the owner of a booze shop giving me “the eye” for asking for buckfast. We talk a bit before the interview, telling him that I got to know the band from their track in Saints’ Row 2. I also mention that buckfast was a cheat code in Grand Theft Auto 2 but I remember that we should be talking about music…
So after surviving the attack of a particularly mental member of an endangered species of wasps and causing unquantifiable damages to the façade of the Student Union, I embarked on a mad trip to the North, which sadly ended up with me being stranded in a blizzard in Leicester.
Which ain’t that bad because: a) it’s not Liverpool (liiiiiiiiiike) and b) the train station in Leicester has the best bacon butties I’ve had in my life (too bad I was skint…and demoralised).
Part 2: Where we decide that talking about Cult stuff and childhood crushes is better than music.
As the rain wanes into a gentle drizzle and the alcohol quantities go into Bukowski levels, Amy, Ian and James look more comfortable and my voice becomes slightly more slurred and lisped than usual. After Amy has joked about Ian’s tie, we proceed to pull a “Yer actual” on the interview and change the rhythm without any warning…