Bishopskin, the captivating South London ensemble renowned for their unforgettable blend of English folk, avant-garde hymnody, and primal punk intensity, have enchanted audiences and critics alike with their visually and spiritually compelling performances, described as “a breathtaking work of art” by Hard of Hearing Magazine and “an ethereal pilgrimage… escape to a mythic, Blakean England” by Metal Magazine, while SoYoung Magazine praises their live shows as “menacing yet dreamlike, with genuine joy and eccentric pageantry.” Fronted by the commanding Tiger Nicholson and featuring haunting vocals from Tati Gutteridge, the band’s major achievements include crafting immersive soundscapes, as evidenced in their most recent release, ‘Doggerland’, a slow-burning evocation of submerged ancestral memories recorded by acclaimed producer James McMillan (known for his work with Van Morrison, Amy Winehouse, and Sade) and mixed by Jake Cartwright (Jockstrap), now available on all major streaming platforms following its September 25th debut.
With an upcoming performance at the legendary 100 Club on October 16th solidifying their status as one of the scene’s most compelling acts, this interview delves deeper into Bishopskin’s mythic world, exploring the inspirations behind ‘Doggerland’ and their ritualistic artistry.
What first drew you to blending English folk with avant-garde elements in Bishopskin’s music?
When you first start a band I remember lots of discussions with James, the other founding member, about what the music genre would Bishopskin be and what style of voice I would use for singing but that all disappears over time. It eventually boils down to just trying to make the music sound less rubbish, more good and continuing to ask each other if this is actually just a bit shit and boring. If you have people around you that tell you it’s good all the time, I reckon the probability of you making an absolute stinker would certainly increase.
Can you walk us through how the band came together and what makes your ensemble dynamic so unique?
It started with me and James doing bedroom demos. I was in art school and I fancied I could make a fool out of myself on stage having cut my teeth in performance art. James was in a band called HMLTD and we’d been around band people for years, so pulling favours to get people to join our project wasn’t too difficult and we started gigging after lockdown. Lots of the original members just helping us as a favour have left and we’ve now whittled down to a really talented and committed 7, most of whom have been classically trained, so gratefully our music has improved.
How do you approach creating those visually compelling live performances that critics rave about?
I’m not sure, sometimes you have the whole room with you, hanging on your word, and sometimes you spend the whole set trying to get their attention. But what I have noticed is that if I’m doing something original, something that 2 seconds ago I never anticipated doing, the room feels it when you’re out on the precipice, stepping out into the unknown so you must be prepared to humiliate yourself I suppose. The other thing is to remain supple and to look and respond to the room, don’t feed them the same special sauce each show. That’s something I’m working on. It’s hard to turn on the charisma to a heckling audience when I don’t feel like it but all they really want is authenticity that’s most attractive at the end of the day so I’ll just stand up there and pray to our good lord I don’t come across as too much of a cock and balls.
What inspired the mythic imagery in your latest single ‘Doggerland’, particularly the vision of a submerging ancestral landscape?
I have this painting idea in my head that has been a great source of inspiration for song after song after song. It feels like I’m an old oil man and I’ve tapped into some great underground lake of oil that seems to endlessly give.
It’s an image of a great big ancient orange sun setting over a vast flat landscape made up of lush grass lands puckered with reflective pools and swaying reeds, a few windswept trees submerged in rising rivers and a feeling of melancholy as a large family unit wading through rising saltwater away from their ancestral home leave muddy footprints, a child’s leather boot and stones scratched with a language indecipherable and now lies under 120 feet of sea.
The drowning of Doggerland
In exploring genre, what role does avant-garde hymnody play in balancing the intensity of Bishopskin’s sound?
Avant-garde hymnody – I think I’ll use that neat little node! But to the question I suppose we stumbled across the sound with our beloved clarinetist who traipsed her choral training across our carpets and I suppose you’re right, it does soften some messy noisy bits, that incidentally we end up adding, to add a bit of grit to the too clean bits. It’s all about sharpening soft bits, cleaning it up then dragging it back through shit.
Tell us about the recording process for ‘Doggerland’ with James McMillan—what was it like working in his Hastings studio?
We did it in one or two takes live, having practiced it to pulp the previous week. We didn’t have the time as we’d set ourselves the impossible challenge of recording 7 songs in two days. Being broke and all.
What themes of loss and memory were you exploring in ‘Doggerland’, and how did the orchestral interplay help convey them?
Great question. You’re right, the song is exploring these themes and I suppose how the orchestral interplay illustrates these themes would be to explain how the sausages are made.
How has performing at venues like Moth Club influenced the band’s ritualistic and spiritual stage presence?
Moth club was a great venue but I’m not sure how the venues influence the stage presence, I suppose it’s more likely to be the crowd than the venue but maybe that’s a chicken and egg problem.
Looking back, what challenges have you faced in forging this haunting, Blakean England through your music, and how have they shaped you?
Maybe the challenges have been internal, I sometimes worry the world I’m inspired by is a little niche.
If you could pair ‘Doggerland’ with any mythical story or film for a perfect listening experience, what would it be and why?
It’s a great question and I don’t have a great answer to it, I haven’t seen a film or heard a story that has scratched that itch but I’ll tell you what I find infinitely fascinating is that fishermen still draw up antlers in their nets when they fish over Dogger and maybe one day they’ll drag up some old standing stone with a language cut in that’s been lost to the sea.
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