The Wytches: Making Noise in the Age of the Machine
- Hannah Breen
- 7 minutes ago
- 9 min read
My Thursday evening during reading week was not spent reading, but rather spent following The Wytches around on the final night of their UK tour at The Dome. As this was my first interview with Strand’s Music column and the Northern line was predictably unpredictable, my solo journey to Tufnell Park was undeniably chaotic. Between frantic texts to co-editor Mahak about my ETA, I received a casual message from the band’s manager, Jack: “They’re in the bar next door”. That’s how I found myself sitting in the Boston Arms, interviewing the band pre-gig over Whitney Houston’s I Have Nothing blaring from the pub’s speakers. In conversation, the band’s warmth was clear. Frontman Kristian Bell and bassist Daniel Rumsey were quietly welcoming, whilst drummer Bhavin Thaker handed me a cider, even offering his phone as an impromptu microphone to record the discussion. What followed was less a formal interview and more a meandering yet thoroughly entertaining chat, spanning their latest album, Talking Machine, the creeping presence of AI in music, our shared love for Chet Baker Sings, and nostalgia for the Arctic Monkeys’ scrappy early days. It wasn’t the conversation I’d originally planned for, but it was infinitely better.
Kristian Bell - Frontman/Guitar, Daniel Rumsey - Bassist/Vocalist, Bhavin Thaker - Drums.
How has the UK leg been treating you? Are you excited for the upcoming EU tour?
Dan: We’re actually at the very end of our UK run, but it’s been really good. It got off to a bit of a slow start; we were in places we’d never played before, sort of end-of-the-earth towns. But it’s been great seeing people’s reactions to the new songs. We’re playing quite a few of them, which is always a risk, but people seem to love it.
Bhav: It’s my first tour with the band, so I’m getting used to doing sixteen dates. It’s a lot, but it’s been really fun. Like Dan said, the turnout’s been great and people have really responded to the new album well.
Kristian: It’s a bit more exciting for us to go to Europe as well, no diss to the UK, but everything just feels a bit more out of the ordinary, even the more mundane parts.
Talking Machine marks your return to recording live-to-analogue tape for the first time since Annabel Dream Reader. How did revisiting that process shape the album creatively?
K: Songs came together much quicker. I’d write something, bring it to the band, and it’d be ready almost immediately. On the last couple of albums, we didn’t have a permanent drummer, so we couldn’t really play the songs as a band. This time, Bhav’s on drums, and that made the whole thing click. Some of the tracks were written days before recording, so they’re as fresh as they could be. I think that’s why we’re all so happy with this one, because there was no stress; it was quite easy to piece it all together naturally.
D: We also had Ellie recording with us.
K: Yeah, it’s our first album featuring female backing vocals from Ellie Dolphin.
The Indiependent described the record as “thick and unpolished…four musicians locked in a dimly lit, sticky-floored room”. Was that the goal when recording, or did it come naturally as a result of recording it live?
K: That’s just our sound, quite relentless, and obviously, there’s a sort of dark vibe to the chords and riffs and things like that. But I’m glad it comes across as a live thing, because I love albums where you can immediately tell that they’re live; there’s nothing sterile about it. I never write deliberately thinking about how it will translate live, just to pump up an audience or anything. We’re known as an energetic band, so it just comes out that way. We have loads of stuff that was heavier but just didn’t translate live, because it was either too intricate or didn’t blend. Everything on this record, by accident, plays well live. We haven’t really had any problems with any of the tracks translating live compared to our previous albums, where we’ve had mellotrons and things like that.
D: I think there’s maybe only one song on this album that we probably couldn’t do live.
K: Which one?
D: Probably Don’t Make it For Me. We’ve also had a lot of people comment on the tour as well that the live performance sounds just like the record, and I think that’s just a testament to how we recorded it. We’re literally just playing live, just like we did in the studio.
The title track references Edison’s Talking Machine, which feels prophetic given AI's creeping presence in everything. How do you feel about that – authenticity versus tech – especially in your own process?
B: AI mastering can be helpful for people who maybe can’t afford studio time, but it’s weird. I mean, there are AI bands with millions of plays, and it’s quite concerning because some people really can’t tell that it’s not real musicians, which is scary. I guess it’s cool in a way that technology is advanced to that point, but it’s a little bit worrying.D: We were talking about this other day, and nothing beats some proper rock and roll; you just can’t get that with a computer. A robot can’t make that; real music comes from real people. And I think proper music fans aren’t stupid; they want to hear an actual band.
B: How are you going to go to a gig if it’s all AI?
D: Exactly.
K: If AI music were treated as its own thing, it could be interesting, but it just needs to be sectioned off as that. I think that’s where it’s dangerous, it’s because it’s not being treated as separate from real artists. It’s like when you get those big machines [orchestrions] and they use cogs to play a whole range of instruments, like a giant music box. That’s still not real music that should be monetised.
D: Also, it’s still a novelty; there are these really funny albums made, like a Slipknot album but if it were recorded in the 60s. So it can be fun, but it could go anywhere in the future, really.
I even saw recently that a completely AI-generated artist entered the Billboard airplay chart for the first time [Xania Monet].
K: See, that’s where it’s wrong, that’s our stance. That’s why we wanted to use AI as a theme for our album; if some robot is charting, then that’s terrible. It can change your life getting into the charts, so that’s frustrating, seeing that space taken up by AI.
Kristian, you’ve said before that moving from Peterborough to Brighton shaped your sound, as you shed some of that hardcore influence. Do you still feel that side of you on this record?
K: Definitely. I’m deeply ingrained in the Peterborough hardcore scene. I don’t listen to that much heavy music anymore, but it never leaves me. Even if I don’t listen to anything too riffy these days, it’s still built into me and the music we’re playing.
The album swings between those heavier moments and more subdued, melancholic tracks like Is the World Too Old. What draws you to those extremes?
D: I find that it’s more interesting to be a band that isn’t just one thing. We could’ve kept just a heavy surf-rock sound all the way through the album, but it’s nice to have those peaks and valleys.
B: When Kristian approaches with ideas, we all like the idea of having a rocker side and a chilled-out side, so it’s more of an all-around listening experience. The second half of the record is more chilled, and some of my favourite songs are there. Romance, especially, I think it’s the best track on the album. Kristian came to us with so many acoustic ideas, and we fleshed them out together, figuring out which ones would stay softer, where the softer ones could be heavier. Talking Machine (the track) itself was this old riff Kristian showed me two days before recording, and it ended up being the heaviest song on the album.
You’ve always had a bit of a cult following. How have your listeners evolved since Annabel Dream Reader?
D: Personally, I can’t gauge it. One minute, I’m like, no one listens anymore, and then the next minute, you do a really good show in Bristol or somewhere and you realise people will still listen and they’re all still there. Even bands that are supporting us now, to our surprise, they’re big fans and they’re referencing old albums we’ve put out. Like you say, it is a cult following, because we’re not a big band by any means, but it’s really nice to hear that people are into it.
B: It’s been quite refreshing to hear so many people say that Talking Machine is the best album. That’s nice because it’s easy to kind of get stuck in the past, I guess. More so for [the other members] because I’ve only been with [The Wytches] for a year. But yeah, it’s really nice to hear that people appreciate the new album and the new direction, because even for bands like the Arctic Monkeys, their newer releases haven’t been received as well as some of their earlier albums.
Finally, what’s the most unexpected comment you’ve received about your sound?
K: I mean, I loved it. Some guy last night was like, “Stop playing the first album, all the other albums are better”. I thought he was literally the only person to think that. Amongst our “cult following”, it’s just all the first album. People come up to us to say, “I listened to your first album when I was two years old” or something. Obviously, I’m talking small-scale; we’re not a mega band, but amongst the cult following, we can’t get away from the first album. I understand it, people have fond memories of the time they first heard it, but it was really nice, and strange, to hear someone say, “Just play the new albums”. We have sweated over the newer music more than the first album; the first one is just completely that youthful thing where anything you do is exciting and interesting because you’re in a world of your own. But to try and immerse yourself in writing music as an adult who needs to pay rent and all of that, it really feels like a sacrifice of a more comfortable existence. At least compared to the first album, where I was just living at my Mum’s house in the garage with no stress or worries, so we had ample time to do whatever we wanted.
After our interview concluded, running far over the allotted 15-minute slot, the band invited me to their green room as they prepped for their show, armed with Jamaican veggie patties and cans of Camden Hells. Between camera flashes and the low hum of pre-show nerves, it felt like stepping backstage into their world for a moment. But soon enough, it was time to head upstairs for the main event. The night opened with Childhood Toys and Congratulations, two bands that shared The Wytches’ affection for grit and distortion. For Childhood Toys, it was their live debut, though you wouldn’t have known it. Their set was raw and urgent, brimming with the kind of nervous energy that makes small-venue gigs so electric. When The Wytches finally took to the stage, the atmosphere shifted. The crowd pressed closer, the air a fragrant mix of anticipation and beer-spilt stickiness.
From the first distorted riff of Talking Machine’s opening track, it was clear this album wasn’t meant to live quietly; on stage, it felt rougher, less polished, but somehow even better. Kristian’s vocals cut through the fuzz with his distinctive blend of menace and melancholy, while bassist Daniel anchored the chaos with hypnotic precision. Bhavin’s drumming was relentless and, as he had described to me earlier, “aggressive”, reminding you that this music isn’t the kind that is built on perfection, but on pure momentum. The experience was made even more personal by Bhavin’s father and Kristian’s longtime partner, Ellie, dancing and jumping beside me, demonstrating the supportive community that uplifts the underground music scene. Tracks like Black Ice and Perform (my personal favourite from the record) hit with grimy charm, each note teetering between control and collapse. Between songs, the band barely spoke; no posturing nor crowd theatrics, just a quiet confidence that let the music do the talking. It was heavy, messy, and entirely unpretentious, the kind of set that pulled me straight back to my sixth form days of heavy kohl liner and platform Doc Martens, soundtracked by Alice in Chains and Pearl Jam.
As the final feedback faded and the crowd began to spill out into the cold, Harvest Moon by Neil Young floated softly through the speakers, a strangely tender choice after over an hour of moshing and chaos. The juxtaposition was almost comedic; bodies that had just collided in the pit now shuffled out politely, plastic cups in hand. It struck me how little The Wytches seem to care about neat endings, both on stage and in their sound. Talking Machine isn’t an album that resolves: it lingers, restless and a bit haunted, much like their performance that night. There’s something deeply refreshing about a band that resists polish in an industry increasingly obsessed with perfection. Their disorder feels deliberate, a refusal to smooth out the edges, and in that beautiful mess, The Wytches sound more alive than ever.
Follow The Wytches on Instagram to find out more about their latest music and upcoming live shows. Listen to their new album Talking Machine on Spotify, Apple Music, and YouTube.
Edited By Mahak Naddafi, Co-Music Editor
