Introducing The Sukis: A Band You'll Have a Taste for

Photo by Kirsty Sim

Liverpool-based indie-rock band The Sukis are fast becoming a defining voice in the UK’s alternative scene. With their punk-inflected energy, whip-smart lyrics, and melodic instincts, the band channels the restless psyche of youth with remarkable clarity. Emerging in 2020 during the COVID-19 lockdown, they’ve since carved out a sound with nods to Arctic Monkey, Tame Impala, The Strokes, and Bowie while remaining uniquely themselves. Their debut single ‘Becca’ has racked up over 15 million streams, and their 2023 EP A Sense of Doubt cemented their growing legacy with its rich, genre-spanning sound. With two EP’s released through Lab Records and over 25 millions total streams, they’ve sold out venues across the Northwest and shared stages with Crawlers, Red Rum Club, and Maruja, among others. Exceeding nearly 94,000 monthly Spotify listeners with surprising strongholds in LA, Chicago, and Houston, The Sukis are a truly transatlantic phenomenon. Here’s a charming twist: in Japanese, the word suki (すき) means ‘to like,’ ‘to have a taste for,’ or simply ‘to love.’ It’s a fitting name for a band that so many fans are growing increasingly fond of. 

Let’s go back to the beginning. How did The Sukis first come together as a band? 

Tige: I’m from Bedfordshire, about an hour outside of London, and that’s where the band originally started back in 2017. 

Freddie: I’m from Cheltenham, which is between Birmingham and Bristol. I moved to Liverpool for university, and I met the lads through a friend. I went to one of their early Liverpool shows at Jimmy’s and thought, ‘These guys are pretty good.’ We became mates, and eventually they asked me to play bass for them. 

Ed: I’m Ed, the drummer. I’m from Hertfordshire. I came to Liverpool Institute for Performing Arts just to see if I could get a job. On my way out, I bumped into Joe and Tige, and they asked if I wanted to be their drummer. I came looking for one job and ended up in a completely different one. 

James: I play guitar, and I’m probably the closest to Liverpool geographically–I’m from Preston, which is between Manchester and Liverpool. The one thing we all have in common is our love of music, which brought each of us to Liverpool.

Photo by Kirsty Sim

Where did the name 'The Sukis' come from? 

Tige: When I was little, my sister used to tell me stories about my imaginary best friend Suki. Suki was this ambiguous figure that could’ve been a floating orb for all I know. The stories were usually set in a house, but Suki itself was undefined. We tried coming up with other names–some really awful ones like Five Dollar Flannel, The Puxs, The Turners, and Drowning in the Beans. My sister got fed up with how bad they were that she just said, ‘Use The Sukis.’ She thought it sounded clean and had that sharp ending you want in a band name. It stuck around 2018/2019 and in a Scouse accent, sounds even better.

What was the attraction that drew you to Liverpool compared to London?

Ed: The great thing about Liverpool is that it’s small. You feel like a big fish in a small pond. London, on the other hand, is just terrifying… there’s so many fish. 

Tige: I think we’d prefer to spend extended periods in places like London rather than make a permanent move. One big reason we chose Liverpool is because it’s also more affordable. Making money in music is already tough, especially with how you have to become a social media personality as that’s where most of the money comes from. I’ve always wanted to do extended recording stints in London, LA, Amsterdam, and even Japan. But Liverpool will always feel like home. You spend enough time here and you’re suddenly making friends just from chatting outside a pub. That’s the kind of community we love. 

You released your first music during lockdown in 2020. What was that experience like? How did it shape your early sound? 

James: It was tough because we couldn’t play gigs. We didn’t have an audience and the immediate feedback that comes with it. That live connection was missing. 

Tige: It was a real double-edged sword. These days, the typical route is: becoming a big personality first, then releasing music. We went the opposite way. We just wanted to put something out there so that if people came to our shows, they didn’t need to know the lyrics but they could just dance and enjoy themselves. Those early demos ended up doing pretty well with most of them now having over 200,000 streams.

What helped you gain traction during that early period, especially with those initial demos?

Tige: We just put those demos out straight away. We were so new to it that we didn’t even realise it takes about a week to get on Spotify. We ended up posting a bunch of apologies because we had no idea you had to go through distributors. Nowadays, it usually takes around six weeks to release something properly if you want it to be picked up by press and playlists. But back then, we were just asking ourselves, ‘What do we want to make?’ and ‘What do we actually like?’ That’s what I mean by it being a double-edged sword. On one hand, it was creatively freeing. On the other hand, it felt like we were doing everything wrong and going against the ‘rules’ we had been taught. Ironically, those early demos are still the songs people bring up the most. 

James: I think because they weren’t official releases, we don’t always count them in our heads. But we played one at The Finsbury and people went mad for it. They’re DIY, made in a relaxed, no-pressure way, and I think people feel that. There’s something raw about them. 

Freddie: We didn’t blow up because of a playlist or some industry push. It was mainly through word of mouth, people sharing links, and the TikTok Tige made. It’s always felt more like a community and that connection between us and the fans is what’s driven it all. That’s why we’re so grateful, it means something deeper to them, and us. 

Ed: One reason those early gigs are important is because they show you how amazing it feels to be playing in a band with your friends. That's where the motivation to do it stems from. Often with childhood bands, everyone goes their separate ways because although it's the best feeling in the world, it’s hard to commit to a band while focusing on universities and jobs. Luckily, we’ve persevered, and the songs seem to have stood the test of time. Our early demo ‘Windmill Hill’ was so well received at our latest London show. 

Photo by Kirsty Sim

A lot of your music dropped in 2021. What made that year so significant for you creatively, and how do you know when a song is ready to be released?

Tige: 2021 was the year we got signed and we’re still with that label now, an independent one based in Manchester. That changed everything. Our track ‘Becca’ had just started gaining traction, so it felt like the right time to release more music. We put out ‘Bureaucratic Smack’ in May, which I’d written in January. ‘Cherryade’ followed in August, and I wrote that just a few weeks before. ‘Intimacy’ was written a week before recording it. We had a contract to deliver an EP, so there was some pressure to move quickly but that pace suited us. We’re in a similar mindset now where we just want to keep releasing music. We felt that momentum back then, and we’re feeling it again now. 

‘Becca’ became a breakout track for you. Did you expect that kind of reaction?

Freddie: I don’t think you can ever expect something like that. You obviously hope for it, but it’s never guaranteed. 

Tige: It was one of the strangest recording experiences I’ve had. When I write, I usually go into this kind of Sherlock Holmes ‘mind palace’ and piece everything together in a deliberate way. But with ‘Becca,’ I didn’t even want to record it. Joe, who was in the band at the time, was the one who really pushed for it. We were planning to re-record one of our older tracks, ‘Mrs May’, which was a political piece. But ‘Becca’ had layers to it. You listen to it once and think, ‘Ok, it’s about a relationship.’ You listen to it again and realise it’s about tobacco. Then eventually, you see it’s about both. That’s the kind of depth I admire in artists like Kendrick Lamar. They’re songs that carry multiple meanings in a single line. I remember thinking at the time: I want to make music that anyone can enjoy, but that also has enough depth for people to sink their teeth into.

Some artists have fan bases that closely follow their personal lives and use that context to interpret their songs. Do you feel like your fans need to know what’s going on in your lives to connect with your music? 

Tige: We’re not really interested in putting our personal lives on display, but if a fan reaches out because they’re struggling, we’ll always take the time to talk. If you look at any artist’s journey, this question always comes up. You want to create music that genuinely affects people, not just creating something they’ll like, but something they’ll love. Since day one, we’ve wanted to make the kind of songs that people obsess over. 

Freddie: It’s great to hear how the music connects with people, but just like we wouldn’t ask fans personal questions, we hope they offer us the same respect. The music is inherently personal and we can’t help that. But outside of that, it shouldn’t really matter what’s going on behind the scenes. Right now, ‘Olivier’ is my favourite track and it’s not even released yet. You want to make music you enjoy listening to, otherwise performing it just isn’t fun. If someone stumbles across our music and comes to a gig just to check us out, the goal is to win them over with the energy of the live show, to make them feel like part of our community. 

Ed: When you write music, it naturally reflects your state of mind in the moment it’s written, and is often based on personal experience. Art is open to interpretation, and hopefully everyone can find something relatable in the lyrics. The goal is more that fans feel they have a safe space and feel heard through our music and can connect with us that way, rather than overtly putting our personal lives out there on a plate. If anything, you can reach more people by being more metaphorical with your lyrics because that way it creates a broader experience or general feeling for people to relate to.

Photo by Kirsty Sim

What’s the biggest difference you notice when performing in London compared to Liverpool? 

James: We’ve got a great London audience, and because they haven’t had many chances to see us, they go absolutely wild. It feels more like a rare event, so the energy is really intense. 

Freddie: We’ve spent the last year or so cutting our teeth in Liverpool and testing out new songs and experimenting. The Liverpool crowd has heard these tracks evolve over time, so the energy is different. Playing them in London for the first time, the reaction is mad. A lot of people there hadn’t seen us since 2020, so it’s got this freshness to it. Also, Liverpool’s a small city and you see the same faces a lot. London just feels bigger, and the gigs reflect that.

Tige: Even geography plays a part. In Liverpool, all the venues are within two or three minutes from each other. That creates a tight-knit scene. London’s more spread out, so the feeling is completely different.

Liverpool has a rich musical heritage. Do you feel pressure being a band from there, or does it inspire you?

Tige: In Liverpool, you’re walking down the same streets as your idols. That’s a powerful thing. There’s a reason we’re in Liverpool instead of London or New York. People here really stick with you. I’ve written full songs based on conversations with mates. When I first moved to Liverpool, I was writing a song a day just from phrases I heard on the street. At the end of the day, if the music's good enough, it transcends all of that. Liverpool’s legacy is not just rich because of The Beatles, it’s always been a launchpad for new movements. Venues like Eric’s hosted The Clash, Ramones, and Joy Division. It’s a rite of passage. Liverpool had to develop a thick skin, both politically and socially, and that attitude fuels the music scene. 

Freddie: Venues like The Jacaranda, where The Beatles first ever performed still carry that energy. You can feel the history in the walls. You’ll see Paul McCartney’s old setlists taped to the ceiling, signed guitars everywhere. It’s impossible not to be moved by that. 

James: We’ve played The Cavern, and that’s a venue that steeped in legend. There’s pressure, sure and you get pigeonholed as ‘the next Beatles’ just because you’re from Liverpool. But we’re not claiming to be Scouse. We bring our own mix of influences to the city, and that makes it more exciting. 

Ed: For me, it’s purely inspiring. There’s no point in being intimidated by a legacy like The Beatles’ because that was so specific to a time, place, and music industry entirely different to that of today. All you can do is take inspiration musically and stylistically from what came before and that’s what we do. 

With the release of ‘To No One’, how would you describe your creative evolution compared to your earlier work?  

Photo by Kirsty Sim

Tige: Early on, everything was DIY. The first EP was basically just polished versions of those demos. After we moved to Liverpool, the sound shifted and became more synth-heavy. Lately, we’ve leaned back into the raw DIY feel. There’s so much amazing stuff happening now in the indie sleaze space. We’re also inspired by 70s metal–bands like Black Sabbath. 

Ed: ‘To No One’ was the first single we’ve released that involved the entire band in the studio every step of the way. Tige wrote the song, but it developed into its final form through collaboration, each of us sitting in on the process and pitching in. Even if we had already finished our own parts, we’d still stay for the rest of the session to cheer each other on. The song features little ideas and influences from all of our individual musical upbringings, more so than past releases. 

James: The second EP had tha synth base, but after two years of playing live, our set became more electric and full of energy. We wanted that same intensity to come through in the studio. ‘To No One’ was just sitting in Tige’s back pocket, and now felt like the right time to bring it to life.

Tige: Time is the biggest factor. We’re all working part-time jobs. I do maybe 25 hours of songwriting a week, then we get about two hours to rehearse, and ten minutes to work on new songs. Jamming is our favourite approach now just because it’s the most efficient. The focus is: make sure fans know where we’re playing, nail the live show, and keep moving forward. The music people are hearing now was written years ago. All those lyrics and emotional lows were carefully thought out. We’re not thinking about the next single, we’re already thinking about the first album, the third album. The process of being in a band is this endless loop: earn enough to free up time to write, write enough to go on tour, tour to grow the fanbase, use that momentum to get the next release. If you’re not doing it in a slightly mad DIY way, you’re not really doing it. 

What themes or emotions were you exploring with this new single?

Tige: The Sukis came out of lockdown, and like everyone, we spent a long time in our bedrooms stuck with our own thoughts. This single taps into that experience. It’s about parasocial relationships and how our generation interacts post-lockdown, especially with the constant presence of social media. What if all your interaction is just online? There’s that strong theme of anxiety and feeling like you can’t speak to anyone. We were really inspired by what The Smiths did in how they wrote devastatingly sad lyrics set to a catchy, upbeat tune. 

Ed: I can’t speak for the lyrics of this song but musically we were trying to match the controlled chaos of the subject matter. The bridges feature some pretty aggressive drums, anchored by straighter passages in the verses and ultimately letting loose in the final chorus. Our playing of the song reflects the sporadic, contradictory nature of the human experience explored in the lyrics. 

Freddie: If anything, it’s the sister song to ‘Imposter Syndrome.’ 

James: Musically, it’s a cool indie-rock track, but the lyrics dive into themes like depression, anxiety, and nihilism. It’s weird how, even with all of this connectivity, it can feel impossible to talk to someone. There’s still that stigma. 

You’ve supported some big names like Red Rum Club and Crawlers. Were there any standout memories from those shows? Any support slots that surprised you?

Photo by Kirsty Sim

James: Red Rum Club was wild. It was one of the biggest stages we’d ever played with Tom Jones and Status Quo on the next night. But beyond the size of it, those support slots are great for meeting people. We supported Permanent (Joy) and already knew the lads, but you end up forming real connections through those gigs. It’s really about supporting each other’s journey. Seeing bands we’ve played with go from small venues to something huge is amazing to watch and be a part of. 

Ed: With support slots, you never know what kind of crowd you’ll get. When we supported The Molotovs last week, the room was packed from the start. Other times, it’s a massive venue and you just have to bring the same energy no matter how many people are there.

Tige: One of the most memorable ones for me was supporting Crawlers in London. There was a shared energy and sense of community. Most of the people who later came to our headline at The Finsbury were from that Crawlers show. Then, we played for bands like Maruja who had 500 people crammed into a 300-cap room. Watching their rise has been so inspiring. 

If you could collaborate with any artist who’s inspired you, or someone completely unexpected, who would it be and why?

Tige: That’s an endless list. One idealistic goal would be supporting Inhaler. I’d also love to support a New York-based band. Sometimes, you only realise during a gig that you’re perfectly aligned with the artist you’re supporting. You think, ‘Why haven’t we played with you before?’

Freddie: Wunderhorse would be great. Tame Impala would be insane too. I’m not sure how well our sounds would mesh live, but the influence is definitely there. 

James: Fontaines D.C. would be another dream. It’s not just about who we love, it’s about who's crowd would vibe with our music. That’s why the Crawlers gig was such a highlight. Their fans felt like kindred spirits. 

Ed: For me it would be Gorillaz. We are so inspired by them as a band and they’re my personal favourite at the moment. I also touched Damon’s hand when I saw Blur as a kid and haven’t gotten over it since. 

Photo by Kirsty Sim

Where do you see The Sukis going in the next few years? Is a debut album on the horizon or something even bigger?

Freddie: We’re just going to keep doing what we’re doing. If more people come along for the ride, that’s amazing. We’d love to go to America, touring there and in Europe would be a dream. But for us, it’s really about making art and getting it out into the world. We can talk big, but ultimately it’s about consistency and connection. We’re young and still have the energy to do this. I love what I do, and I feel fulfilled. That’s what matters. We want to reach a point where this becomes our full-time job. If we let fear or burnout consume us, we’d regret it forever, we owe it to ourselves and our supporters to keep pushing forward. Our families, our friends, and our fan community are all rooting for us. 

Tige: We’re definitely ready to make an album. The Sukis have been going for eight years and that’s usually how long it takes to figure out your next step. I’ve wanted to press a vinyl or CD since 2020, and it still hasn’t happened. Now feels like the time. I want a month in the studio to experiment and explore everything we’re about. Having creative freedom is essential, especially for your mental health in this industry. 

James: Right now, we’re all part-time. Our jobs exist to fund the music. It’s hard when you have bills to pay but we’ll do whatever it takes to get our music out there.

Ed: Now that we've completed our first headline tour, we plan to turn our attention to making the debut album happen. The new songs we play live get a good reception which is very inspiring. We certainly have enough material for a few albums already. But I don't know what I’m doing tomorrow, let alone on the horizon.