Split the Ticket Discuss Their New Single ‘I Don’t Know My Name’

Maddy Maguire
8 minutes ago
8 min read

Formed in Newcastle and now based in Leeds, Split the Ticket has risen rapidly from school practice rooms to a headline tour, and their latest single, ‘I Don’t Know My Name,' proves precisely why that is.

Comprising brothers Oisin and Finn Caffery alongside their drummer, Ellis Barker, the band have made their mark within the Northern music scene, and they show no signs of compromising in their restless pursuit of something new. Since their first gig in 2024, they’ve gone on to rub shoulders with the likes of The North, Little Grandad, and Thistle. Now, with an EP and a tour of their own on the horizon, the message is clear: watch this space.

There’s a certain creative confidence in ‘I Don’t Know My Name’ that, whilst not entirely absent from the band’s former stuff, reaches a new level of clarity. It’s the type of song listeners will hear and think, “These guys must’ve been doing this forever.” The shoegaze and indie rock influences the members often cite are very much apparent — the space between loud, dreamy textures and candid, rhythmic lyricism is successfully occupied. Yet, in addressing the question of who they are and what they’re doing (hence the provocative title of ‘I Don’t Know My Name’), Split the Ticket uncovers an identity that feels entirely their own.

But how did these two brothers meet their drummer? How did they get to where they are now, and where do they plan to go next? STRAND sat down with the band to discuss their past, present, and everything in between.

You’re two brothers and a drummer. That’s a pretty distinctive dynamic. How did that lineup come to be? I know you met Ellis in Leeds, but what’s the full story there?

Oisin: I had experience playing with different bands and people in the past, and then my music teacher signed me up for a battle of the bands without telling me. He was like, “Right, you’ve got to find a band and do this.” I’d written a few songs already, and Finn had started playing bass the year before. I got him on board — we grew up listening to the same music and have similar inspirations, so it works quite nicely. At first, we had a different drummer.

Ellis: Oisin was actually a fan of my other band, and so he came along to a show. That’s how we met. When they lost their old drummer, I was kind of looking for something new anyway. It’s honestly weird how well we all get along. In hindsight, I’ve been in the band for 6 months now, and there haven’t been any difficulties in getting to know each other and becoming mates. We’re different in a lot of ways, but we share the right things, I think. As an outsider coming in, it’s been mental to work with these two guys who are literally the same person. They don’t have to think half of the time; they understand each other from beginning to end.

Do you think things would’ve been massively different if you’d met somewhere else? I mean, you’re quite proud of your Northern roots. How much of that specific identity finds its way into your music?

O: I do think things would be different. I went to uni in Leeds, but it wasn’t my firm or my insurance. I got in through clearing, which feels lucky, to be honest, because I don’t think the band would be happening as it is if it wasn’t in Leeds. In my first year there, I lived down the road from Hyde Park Book Club. It’s a fantastic venue. I was going to loads of gigs every week, meeting people from the local scene. I felt like it kept and continued that spark I felt in Newcastle. There’s a strong sense of community that you get up north. It’s nicer and easier in some ways, with all the opportunities for collaboration with your peers, but also more difficult to break through and so on.

E: Even if it’s never explicitly acknowledged in the music, the fact that you’re living and existing in the space means you inherently can’t be detached from it. The challenges you face – like lack of funding and attention – make for a more fiercely loyal scene. Like, a lot of these bands aren’t necessarily 'big,' but they’re staunch defenders of one another. It draws you out of yourself creatively.

I’ve read that you treat your songwriting as a response to the world around you. But I’m also interested in the names and titles you’ve given things — your new single, ‘I Don’t Know My Name,' for example. There’s a fascinating tension between not knowing your name and trying to build one as an artist. Where did the name Split the Ticket come from?

O: Basically, I had a long, long list of possible band names in my notes. I’d come up with some weird names with our previous drummer — stuff like Pig Latin. But I was sitting in a politics lesson when my teacher said the phrase "split the ticket.” I can’t even remember exactly what it means anymore, but we get this question a lot, so it has sort of taken on a new meaning for us anyway. We’ve talked a lot about community and sharing the scene with others, and, well, ‘splitting your ticket’ is kind of like an expansion of that sharing. It’s also snappy, which is what I was looking for.

You’ve mentioned bands such as The Smashing Pumpkins and Slowdive as inspirations, and you work closely with a lot of local artists too. But how do you take those influences and turn them into something that feels uniquely yours?

Finn: It’s when we sit down together. Maybe Ellis will show us something he’s been working on or Oisin will show us a riff. Then we’ll just see where things take us. You end up with some awful, stupid things at first, but after about 20 minutes something will eventually come of it. That’s the importance of knowing each other both personally and musically.

O: I’ll always remember when Ellis first joined the band, and I’d written quite a few songs I hadn’t brought in to be considered yet. They were all quite different vibes and genres — all coming from different types of indie music, basically. We were in a bit of an identity crisis, wondering what our direction was and what was happening. And then Ellis said, “Anything we write is Split the Ticket.” So, we don’t try to confine ourselves to a super specific genre. We do take a lot from shoegaze, Midwest emo, and grunge. But I think Ellis is right. No matter what we do, it’s always going to be distinctly us.

E: It also helps that we all draw different influences. I used to work in a shoe shop, and when there was nothing going on, I once started beatboxing the bassline to ‘Everybody Dance’ by Chic. Not that I beatbox often. But that’s how one of our other future singles, ‘Lying to Yourself,' came to be. We wrote it in probably less than an hour.

O: It came from such a vastly different genre too.

E: Yeah, that’s exactly what it’s like. It can come from such a weird place sometimes, but it’s Split the Ticket no matter what. We might sit down and say, “This one is going to be dancier" or "This one is going to be quite moody.” We have a vision, not requirements.

You’re going to follow this single up with an EP and a tour in November. In the past, you’ve supported acts such as The North. How do you think that experience geared you up for the coming one?

O: The North were great — it was a mental experience. They’re really good friends of ours, and they took us to play these shows that were already sold out. When we played Elephant’s Head, I think they had something like 800 RSVPs. The whole street was packed. I think we do use their lessons as our lessons as well, be it how they release their music or what kind of content they create. There’s loads to be learned from watching bands that are those one or two levels above you.

E: At least from my perspective, it’s the little things you get out of being friends with other bands. We were able to get a few pointers when recording our last two songs, for example. Not that it changed the direction of the song, but it didn’t hurt to get the opinions and advice from someone that is in the know. Leeds specifically has got a scene unlike anything else currently going on in the UK. There’s a lot of insane talent going on, yet it still feels quite isolated. Everyone’s always talking to each other.

O: I wouldn’t say it’s specific to Leeds, though. We played with Thistle and Little Grandad in January, and they were lovely. It’s just lovely to have insight from bands who are on the cusp of that breaking point. Being in the green room with people like that is so informative and brings you a lot of hope and inspiration, I think.

E: Thistle gave us some great advice about doing jumping jacks before going on stage. Being a drummer is quite a physically demanding role, and I found it has really worked for me. It’s those little bits of silly advice you wouldn’t hear elsewhere.

This new single is going to be the first of many. Could you tell us a bit more about where the creative process for ‘I Don’t Know My Name’ and the rest of your EP began, and why the single felt like the right song to release now?

F: We wrote ‘I Don’t Know My Name’ about a year ago. One day we were like, “None of these songs are really doing it for us anymore.” We demoed it after a few sessions of working on it and it just felt like the right song for now.

O: We wanted a song with some emotional impact. The drop into the first chorus is probably my favourite thing that we’ve done. Lyrically, it’s all about being lost in the creative process and not knowing where you stand as an artist — being frustrated and feeling desperate for something to happen. It was written in limbo between Newcastle and Leeds. I wanted it our first because I wanted us to move on from this mindset. Like, this song that we wrote about not being able to find ourselves is the song that is us finding ourselves.

E: One of the things we’re big on at the moment is revisiting old songs and stripping them down section by section. When I joined the band, I didn’t want to just play someone else’s parts. I wanted to put my own spin on it. We’re a lot happier with the songs when we get to analyse them in such a way. In terms of songwriting and our roles in the band, it feels very equal. We couldn’t discount one person without taking out a huge chunk of the song.

O: And it’s really useful, me and Finn being brothers. We can be very honest with each other. Even if I get a bit annoyed, I’ll forgive him. We can all elaborate on our feelings in a critical way.

E: Our collaborative creative process is definitely our strongest aspect as a band.

Finally, when STRAND readers give I Don’t’ Know My Name a listen on the 24th of July, what sort of response or feelings are you looking for?

O: We want people to find themselves in the content of the song. I think it’s easy for people in this generation to feel lost, and there’s so much happening at the moment that pushes you to feel lost.

F: It would be nice if people could also decipher their own meaning. As personal as the lyrics and sound are to us, they’re equally broad. People can listen and connect it to a position that they’re in.

O: I mean, the first time I played it for my dad, he asked if it was about a bad acid trip. Which it isn’t. So, I think people can take their own meaning from it, you know?

E: We wanted to create a massive soundscape that you could sink into. I would want it to be a reprieve for people. Like, you put the song on, and, for 3 minutes or however long the song is, that’s it. As much as I love albums, I like the idea of each single being consumed as its own standalone piece of art. And I think ‘I Don’t Know My Name’ holds up on its own very well. Yeah, I want people to be like, “Oh my God. This is the best song ever. Grammy inbound.”