Where the wild things are now From their 2008 debut to âPresent Tenseâ, their fourth album, released this month, Wild Beasts have remained nomadic in song as much as anything else Photogra phy: Jenna foxton / writer: R eef Younis
Cut adrift in Kendal, disenchanted in Leeds, and faced with the fear and loathing of London, geography has played a central part in Wild Beastsâ history. Half-heartedly thrown in with the (thankfully) defunct âGangs of New Yorkshireâ scene, courtesy of their tenuous Leeds connection, the band has survived the cynical scenes, outlasted the buzz bands and stayed committed to stubbornly making it work wherever and however they can. In fact, their transience has probably helped them not just survive but endure. After touring themselves into oblivion from the release of their 2008 debut album, âLimbo Pantoâ, to the gruelling end of âSmotherâ (the bandâs third and last LP, of 2011), Iâm sat with one of British guitar musicâs quieter success stories in a pub in South East London, just around the corner from the Deptford studio where their latest album, âPresent Tenseâ, was recorded. Now with semi-permanent roots in London, Hayden Thorpe,Tom Fleming, Chris Talbot and Ben Littleâs latest migration over the north/south divide feels like a natural, almost inevitable, culmination of Wild Beastsâ wonderfully nomadic habit. But even though they seem to have settled in the likeliest of concrete jungles, theyâre still a band that proudly defies
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definition with every release. âThat was absolutely the climate we came up in, but I donât think weâve ever had to survive a scene because I donât think weâve ever been cool enough,â says Thorpe. âWhat we do is probably always going to be, and always has been, divisive enough to create a healthy and unhealthy distance for us to not have to rely on that. In our early days weâd probably have loved to have been in a scene to give us a piggyback but we had to brave it out and weâre better for it, and have independence in that sense. âThere was that New Yorkshire thing,â he smiles, âand it was quite shocking at the time because Iâd left Kendal feeling a little burnt that we couldnât make it work. The ideal was that we would develop in our own little pocket but then to arrive in Leeds and be so disenchanted with everything around you was quite devastating. We almost proofed ourselves because we had to. Ladproofing might be too strong a term, because our music was never going to be sung from the terraces, but it was about the terraces, and thereâs something beautiful about that.â âI do think we feel a great kinship with Leeds,â says Fleming, âbut I feel like if weâd started to come up now, in