‘Careful Of Your Keepers’ Is an Autobiographical Glimpse at This Is The Kit

It feels like the protests are following Kate Stables around. Mere weeks ago she was in Paris, the city where she lives, when it was brought to a halt by the May Day march against pension reform, which ended in violence on the streets between police and demonstrators. Then, she arrived in the UK just as it embarked on a week-long series of national strikes against low pay and poor working conditions.

Stables does not disapprove of the disruption. “People have to remember that this is how change happens,” says the 40-year-old behind the British alt-folk outfit This Is The Kit. Whatever inconvenience Stables may face as a touring musician who currently can’t get around by public transport, she says, only helps to make the point. “It’s more inconvenient not getting paid enough and not getting treated properly.”

Since Stables relocated to France 17 years ago, the difference in national attitudes towards civil disobedience has been an eyeopener. “The UK has got a bit comfy over the decades and taken things for granted, they assume the government will look after them. In France, the slightest threat, people hit the streets and protest.”

Stables’ skills as an observer of the human experience is the golden thread that runs through her songs for This Is The Kit. Her 2018 fourth album, Moonshine Freeze, earned her a nomination for a prestigious Ivor Novello songwriting award, and her follow-up, Off Off On, saw her break further into the mainstream as critics applauded its depth and complexity.

A rarely overt but nevertheless keen political awareness is ever-present. And while Stables describes her new release, Careful Of Your Keepers, as “slightly more personal” than her previous albums, she’s aware that this is more in the way people will experience the songs than the way she necessarily intended them.

Take the track “More Change,” which was released as a single in early June. It is accompanied by an utterly delightful animated video made by her talented family friend, Benjamin Jones, in which various inanimate objects from sneakers to pieces of fruit search yearningly for connection and meaning.

“It sounds like a relationship song,” admits Stables, “But it started off with me thinking about situations in society, and people trying to decide if those are better now than 100 years ago. It’s an impossible question – there’s so much that’s worse and so much that’s better. You have to choose which one gets you through the day.”

The lyrics on the opening track, “Goodbye Bite,” include the memorable image of a “‘How shit is this?’ measuring stick” – and the question of change becomes a recurrent theme throughout the album. “I’ve been thinking about how we deal with it, how we quantify it,” says Stables, who compiled the songs over the past two years. “We make decisions by comparing things against each other… and it’s all meaningless, because any decision is a decision! You’re following your nose and hoping for the best.”

And yet, to quote a famous French writer, plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose. The hypnotic sound and elliptical lyrics that have won This Is The Kit its cult following fanbase remain their trademark and Careful of Your Keepers is a joyous example of the acoustic folk and clubby groove that Stables’ (stable) line-up has been blending over the past decade.

The opportunity to rehearse together for 10 days at a friend’s house in Cork, southern Ireland, proved the power of the band’s long-lasting relationships. “We all live in different places now, but it did us all such a lot of good to be there together, so far away from our other lives,” says Stables. “As the years go by we’ve got better at giving and taking criticism, and you’re able to communicate better which isn’t always the case, in bands or in life.”

She herself has gained a reputation as a musicians’ musician, a favorite of Elbow’s Guy Garvey, The National’s Aaron Dessner, and Gruff Rhys of the Super Furry Animals, who produced the latest album at her request. “I love his live shows, he’s so articulate and thoughtful. And in the studio he has just the right balance of sense of humour and total creative work ethic.” He also turns up in the “More Change” video, transmuted into a long-eared plasticine toy singing backing vocals.

Other influences on the album included punk-folkster Naima Bock, and Horse Lords (“the way they mess or play with rhythm and timing, it makes me so excited and alive”). At home in Paris, Stables has found creative community among a group of French and English artists that include Halo Maud, Mina Tindle, and Belvoir – a duo who, like her, hail originally from the west country of England, but now sing “really loud, super energy stuff” in their adopted French tongue. “Which is really nice, because the outside world doesn’t get exposed to enough non-Anglophone music.”

Stables herself found it slow-going to learn a new language, paralyzed by her fear of making mistakes or speaking with too English an accent. “I didn’t make any progress until I had my daughter,” she admits. “But after you’ve got over the shock of having a baby your inner punk wakes up and you don’t care what anyone thinks. So I got better quite quickly!”

She also found her new environment altered the way she made music. By her own admission, Stables is “quite a drone-y songwriter” by instinct– “I’ll have the same note all the way through,” she laughs. “But French songwriting has tons of chords in it. So now I try and write songs with more than two…”

One track from Careful Of Your Keepers offers an unusually autobiographical glimpse into her daily life. “This Is When The Sky Gets Big” was inspired by a favorite park near her home: “A rare place in the city where there’s loads of sky because there’s no immediate tall buildings.” “It’s not a classic Paris park of gravel and pollarded trees in rows,” She says. “You’re allowed on the grass which is pretty unusual.” The sight of people sharing food, playing card games or dominos – even those who live in the park, because they have no other home to go to – inspires one of the album’s most reflective tracks.

When we spoke, however, she was in Bristol, staying at the home of her friend and fellow musician Rachael Dadd ahead of a show at an open-air amphitheatre on the Cornish coast. Stables loves being on the road; her favourite touring destinations include Seattle, Hamburg, and Japan, a place she, Dadd, and her partner (the musician Jesse D Vernon) toured together in the very early days of the band. “I’d just moved to Paris at the time and I was in culture shock,” remembers Stables with a laugh. “So it was so good to be in a place where people were respectful and nice and said sorry and thank you as much as I did. I’d love to go back…”

There will just be time, before the main tour in support of the album kicks off, for a family wedding in Europe, where she and her twin sister will celebrate their birthday together. (Her two other siblings are also twins – they all spent a lot of their youth, she says, filling in questionnaires from research scientists). As someone with a teenage daughter of her own, the question of the future, and the legacy her generation will leave for the next one, is uppermost in her mind.

You can hear it in the final track of the album, “Dibs,” which ends with the apocalyptic thunder of washing machine drums and the line, “Since the beginning of time, man out of time.” Here is the real change that is coming: the music resonates with the sense of climate crisis without ever explicitly referencing it. “There’s no avoiding it,” agrees Stables. “It’s on everyone’s mind, it can’t help but dribble out into the songs we write, the worry. There’s no stopping the train.”

But as a lifelong fan of the science fiction author Ursula K Le Guin, she can, too, see a brighter future. “Her books are really reassuring, and Kim Stanley Robinson’s books have given me hope, too. Life does carry on. We’re currently living in absolute sci-fi conditions for people who were around 100 years ago. It would just be nice if we knew how to respect that, and carried on in a way that doesn’t create more suffering.”


Photo Credit: Cedric Oberlin

Basic Folk – Adia Victoria

For Adia Victoria, the blues are not just a genre of music or a set of formal elements. She lives the blues. In her life and work the blues are a mode of creating, a river-tradition into which she steps with each performance, and a way back into self-acceptance. Adia has traveled the world and infused her unique songwriting with Paris and New York as much as with her home state of Tennessee.

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Adia has released three studio albums, working with producers like T Bone Burnett and The National’s Aaron Dessner. In her climb to indie stardom she has remained laser focused on interpreting the blues tradition for contemporary audiences.

My conversation with Adia came shortly after we finished a whirlwind North American tour this spring, and it felt like we were back in the tour van just shooting the shit. Transparent and hilarious, Adia challenged me to go as deep in conversation as she does in her songs.


Photo Credit: Huy Nguyen

MIXTAPE: Blue Water Highway’s Space Ship in a Barn

We are a four-piece Americana/indie rock and roll band from Austin, Texas, combining our love of singing and harmony (Catherine and Zack were both opera majors in college) with thoughtful songwriting, musicianship, and arranging (Greg and Kyle are multi-instrumentalists, also with college degrees in music). Being from Texas, we are rooted in its southern/western traditions, but love to musically and lyrically explore the contrasts in culture between rural and urban life, and the way that technology has affected both. This was one of the concepts — what we kept calling “building a space ship in a barn” — that was at the heart of our upcoming album, Paper Airplanes, produced by Cason Cooley, and it is the theme of our mixtape.

These “space ship in a barn” songs are a huge inspiration to us, often using acoustic instruments and natural vocals/harmonies mixed with analog synthesizers and electric guitars. Essentially mixing the organic sounds of the country with those of the urbanized, modern world. They also show a contrast between material things, and emotions that can sometimes best be expressed by otherworldly-type sounds. — Blue Water Highway

Bruce Springsteen – “I’m on Fire”

We find ourselves constantly referencing the Boss and his Born in the U.S.A. album, and this track specifically, as a great example of how classic rock and roll and rockabilly crossed with an analog CS-80 synth somehow works so well.

Sandra McCracken – “Reciprocate”

There is something about this track, and whole album really, that uses the roots vs. digital mix to maximum effect. The foundation is the fragility of the vocal and the acoustic guitar, but the “space” sounds peek through, like little slivers of light coming down through the dark clouds. Produced by Cason Cooley, this is one of the initial influences for our album.

The National – “Quiet Light”

The National’s 2019 release, I Am Easy to Find, has some of the best vibe in piano tones and “Quiet Light” is no exception. The soundscapes and drumming on this tune were just so innovative yet familiar.

Matthew Perryman Jones – “Waking the Dead”

The atmosphere kicks in right from the start and supports this upbeat rocker, which happens to be the only non-ballad on this record, is also produced by Cason Cooley, and admittedly is one of the few non-ballads that MPJ writes. The whole record is a rootsy trip through outer space.

Hozier – “Almost (Sweet Music)”

This song combines three things we love: good songwriting, good groove, and jazz. Hozier weaves titles from famous jazz songs throughout the lyrics of this song, and if you didn’t know the jazz songs he mentions you’d have no idea. Hozier is a great example of an artist who uses rootsy sounds with very modern, pop-oriented production techniques.

Phoebe Bridgers – “Motion Sickness”

Is it a country song or not? At least that is the argument we’ve been having in our band since the song came out. The soundscape is obviously a great example of vibey, modern, groovy, indie-rock production, and the lyrics have a very 21st century suburban-kid perspective. But still, there is something in the mood and the lyrics that doesn’t seem too far from Hank Williams… or Dolly Parton… anyone?

Elbow –”lippy kids”

Our producer introduced us to this band and this track, which is not only a perfect example of our theme sonically, but also lyrically. The refrain of “build a rocket boys” exactly conveys the sense of childhood wonder we wanted to evoke on our album.

Taylor Swift – “peace”

We’re big Taylor Swift fans in this band, always have been. Then she released folklore and evermore in 2020, which somehow fit perfectly with sounds of our album, even though we had already recorded it. Catherine never turned these albums off… ever. Taylor Swift is not given nearly enough credit as a songwriter and this is one of those perfectly produced tracks that makes her shine.

Blue Water Highway – “Grateful”

Definitely leaning more on the “barn,” or rootsy, side of things, this is our tongue-in-cheek take on thankfulness, and we still manage to put enough stardust sounds in the mix that it fits with the rest of the album.

Big Red Machine – “Hymnostic”

This song sounds like sunlight shining through the windows of an old white wooden church. Aaron Dessner (The National) and Justin Vernon (Bon Iver) combine to create the ultimate “spaceship in a barn” vibe. Big Red Machine, The National, and Bon Iver have all accompanied us many many times on late-night drives from state to state.

John Moreland – “When My Fever Breaks”

When an amazing songwriter gets a hold of a drum machine, this is the result. Great songs, and vibey drum production, complete with other synths make this album one to keep revisiting.

Brandon Flowers – “Between Me And You”

Brandon Flowers is one of the core artists we reference. Combining a indie synth rock aesthetic with heartland songwriting, he represents one of the many examples of bringing roots rock into a modern era.

Counting Crows – “Amy Hit The Atmosphere”

If this came out in 2021, it would probably be called Americana, but we love how these guys were a mainstream rock band with just the right balance between raw and polished. That’s never truer than on this song from This Desert Life, with the way the band uses atmospheric sounds to support the lyrics.

Maggie Rogers – “Overnight”

This song is a perfect example of how ambient electronic sounds that you can’t really put your finger on really round out and enhance a song that has organic vocals and drums.

Dawes – “Don’t Send Me Away”

One of the under appreciated elements of ’70s Americana will always be the impeccable groove of the rhythm section. Dawes carries this same torch, along with subtle but innovative guitar work, and brilliant songwriting, to become one of our bands favorite bands.

The War on Drugs – “Pain”

Adam Granduciel’s guitar work and songwriting harkens back to the way the ’80s musicians blended the rootsy style before them with modern instrumentation. The War on Drugs unashamed use of drum machine sounds and reverb rich guitar tone creates a cool and nostalgic sonic landscape.

Blue Water Highway – “All Will Be Well”

This is a song about the true meaning of hope, and it uses the synth/acoustic dichotomy as a way to contrast the spiritual with the material, how those realities both rub up against each other and work together. At times it feels like a rickety old space ship, and is one of our favorite examples of this sound in our original music.

Blue Water Highway – “Sign Language”

This is our original song about finding communication, calm, and understanding in the midst of chaos and confusion. The soundscape has many “space ship” elements that evoke communication, i.e. synthesizer and drum machine, which are contrasted with the organic sounds of the harmony vocals, guitar, and drum set.


Photo credit: Cal & Aly

WATCH: Mumford & Sons, “Forever (Garage Version)”

Artist: Mumford & Sons
Hometown: London, England
Song: “Forever (Garage Version)”
Release Date: May 8, 2020

Editor’s Note: The demo recording heard in this video was performed almost completely live and rediscovered while going through some of the band’s recording archives during the coronavirus lockdown.

In Their Words: “Back in 2013, off the back of touring Sigh No More and Babel we decided we needed to take a bit of a break from the road, catch our breath and regroup. The first time we really hung out to make music together was after a couple months living our lives, and it was in the back garden of a friend’s house deep in Brooklyn. That friend was Aaron Dessner from The National and he had a built a studio in the garage in his garden. Between catching up, eating burritos, and having a couple of drinks, we messed around a bit with some new song ideas. This was one of those moments.

“Many of the songs that began in that garden ended up on Wilder Mind, whereas the later version of this song we saved for Delta. We just thought it’d be fun to share the journey that these songs go on sometimes. Hope everyone is staying safe x” — Mumford & Sons


Photo credit: Gavin Batty

Reacting Melodically: A Conversation with Lisa Hannigan

Lisa Hannigan got her start on the stage with Damien Rice, providing vocals for 2002’s massively successful O and growing more confident in her voice and her words ever since. Hannigan’s 2008 debut, Sea Sew, was met with extensive acclaim and a slew of award nominations in her home country of Ireland, and its 2011 follow-up, Passenger, made for more compelling evidence that Hannigan’s haunting vocals find their best fit at center stage.

It’s been five years since Hannigan released any new music and, while she struggled with the writing process, she’s quick to interject that her latest work, the 11-song collection At Swim, isn’t that depressing, by the way. She’s right — one of the things that makes At Swim such a strong effort is its capacity to soar from stirring highs to paralyzing apathy and back again.

I read in an interview from a couple of years ago that you had a favorite song to play live — “Little Bird” — but that it was originally kind of a struggle for you to play in front of people. What makes any particular song difficult to play in the live setting, and how does it evolve for you over time?

I think some songs feel a little more raw, really. In the most basic sense, they feel a little more exposing or truthful — just bare. That song, when I first wrote it, I felt a bit exposed singing it. But then I kind of began to enjoy that feeling, in a way. [Laughs] I sort of enjoyed feeling the rawness of it. The heart of the song still conjures up the moment that it was written in. But it doesn’t feel quite as … it doesn’t feel quite as sunburnt. [Laughs]

What is it about that feeling that appeals to you?

When I say that I enjoy that feeling, I think that that song, in particular, for me, was a way into a slightly different approach to songwriting than I had done. I really felt the truthfulness to it. It was actually really freeing and really enjoyable, in a way, and I’ve tried to bring that into the songs on the new record — tried to express things in a bit more of a bare way. I don’t know if anyone would hear them in the way that I feel them when I’m singing. I would say there are a few songs on my new record — at least, I’ve only been playing a few recently — that give me that same feeling and that I just love to sing for people. “Prayer for the Dying” is one; “We the Drowned” is another. I tried to bring that sense of rawness to all the songs on the new record, to an extent.

These are really personal songs, but you worked with a new producer. Tell me about working with Aaron Dessner on this record.

Well, I had been having a bit of a hard time trying to write songs for this record. I finally got off tour from the second record, and I just kind of felt empty or something. I don’t know why, but I didn’t have the feeling that I usually have when I want to write songs. I was feeling a bit down about the whole situation. [Songwriting] is what I do, so when I don’t do it, I feel a bit confused about my purpose in the world. But then I got this email, completely out of the blue, from Aaron, saying just, "My name’s Aaron. I’m in a band called the National." [Laughs] Which I already knew. But it was just this really sweet email saying, "If you want to write together, or you need someone to produce your next record, or whatever — just if you want to get in touch, please do." So we started this lovely correspondence and became musical pen pals. He would send me all these beautiful pieces of music, and I would try to react to them melodically or lyrically or in any way. It was really fun, and it kind of brought back the fun of songwriting that I had so much squashed down with all of my trying so hard and being down about the whole she-bang. It was really a breath of fresh air in the whole slightly stale situation that I had found myself in.

One of the first songs that he sent that I found easy to write to was the song “Aura” on the record. He sent it and it was very fleshed out — this beautiful, rolling piano chord structure. It had this really beautiful feeling of oars and water. It had this calling sensation to it. I remember vividly: I was just folding the washing at home, and I always have my phone recording whatever humming I would be doing. For “Aura,” I just immediately started singing the melody as it ends up, really. It just felt so natural, and the words and everything felt very natural for that piece of music. Every once in a while with me and Aaron, we would have that situation — where it would just be very immediate and sudden, the connection. So that ends up being on the record and the heart of it being very similar to what we hit on initially. I had a sort of kinetic energy, to keep it whole. We kept it pretty much how it was.

It’s so interesting to hear you talk about this because, so often in the past, you’ve worked with other musicians as the outside collaborator coming in and contributing to their records.

In any situation, you always want to serve the song, be it my song or somebody else’s. You’re always trying to find a way of recording a song or approaching a song which kind of leaves it in its wholest form. I don’t think you should mess with things too much. You should kind of let them be what they want to be.

What was really interesting to me about Aaron and the way he wrote is that I would always want to put kind of a lot of lyrical, melodic things [into songs], kind of intertwining. His approach for this record, he says, was that he wanted it to be kind of austere in a way that it would be very, very rich and textured, but melodically somewhat austere. I thought that was a really interesting approach, and I learned a huge amount from him just in the way that he heard things like that. I think you always learn from people when you collaborate, I think, but I learned a huge amount from Aaron. I’m not sure how much he learned from me. [Laughs] Probably very little!

[Laughs] I’m sure that’s not true. Can you tell me about “We the Drowned”? That song jumped out at me from the record.

That song was one of the early ones that I wrote, when I was feeling so lost. Everything I was doing to myself was not in my best interest. I just couldn’t bring myself to set myself right, you know? Even in terms of reading or everything. I just found myself falling into the rabbit hole of not nourishing my brain as much as I wanted to, or should have. I felt really stuck and sad, you know? I felt really down. I started writing a song, the melody, and the words … they were sort of all very much about the idea of self-sabotage and blindly making decisions and doing things without ever seeming to take the wheel — even when you know the wheel is right there. I feel like that is part of being a human being, where you’re approaching life, and you know so much of what we do, and we shy away from people who make us feel uncomfortable and we sort of make decisions that don’t seem to come from a higher part of our brain at all. I was trying to express that sort of blind marching toward the abyss.

Now that you look back at the song and the record, is there a particular aspect or moment you feel you did take the wheel — that you feel most proud of?

I love all of the songs on the record. I think I’m going to sound terrible, because it was such a difficult process for me that, in a way, I’ve never experienced before. I’m really just proud that there’s a record at the end that I love. There were so many times in the process that I just thought, "I don’t think I’m going to make another record. This has been quite painful." I really felt desperately down. The record isn’t that depressing, by the way! It’s not as depressing as I’m making it sound! But the process was very difficult. Every once in a billion, I would write and I would say, "I love that song!" But then, for months, I would not enjoy anything that I was doing. So I really feel proud that, at the end of all of that difficulty, I feel like I’ve learned to keep going. There is a light at the end of the tunnel.

 

For more on the creative process, read our interview with Lori McKenna.


Photo credit: Rich Gilligan