No Bells And Whistles: Clash Meets The Lathums

An in-depth audience with the Wigan indie heroes...

“I’m a firm believer in being yourself and not conforming to what’s popular at the time. The world we live in is filled with fads all the time, there’s a new fad every week. If you stick to who you are and the person you are, that will do more good than anything, I think.”

As mission statements go, Alex Moore and The Lathums are keeping true to it. The Wigan four-piece currently inhabit an unusually rarefied spot in alternative contemporary music. Previous single ‘Say My Name’ was the recipient of Radio X’s Record of 2022, seeing off challenges from Wet Leg (one accolade they haven’t hoovered up) and both Gallagher brothers (an achievement in itself) while current single ‘Struggle’ has been B-listed on BBC Radio 6 Music. The two stations occupy the different ends of the alternative scale (with very few newer acts straddling both) and it’s even rarer to find young men with guitars on the latter’s playlist. Proof that Moore’s stance is reaping dividends as they commence the campaign for album two.

The cover image for the second album, ‘From Nothing To A Little Bit More’, depicts a youth (looking not unlike the lead songwriter) standing at the side of a country road with a guitar case, holding a sign in the manner of a hitchhiker. In the words of its designer (the legendary Brian Cannon), “it’s all about a young lad following his dreams and going off to accomplish them.”

Cannon knows something special when he sees it, with an illustrious record that includes the sleeves for all of Oasis’ 1990s output and also fellow Wiganers The Verve. Yet he rarely designs artwork in the 21st century, so when he does it has to be deemed worthwhile, and the group are suitably humbled by his work on the project. “I’m just happy that he wants to work with us, to be honest,” says Moore enthusiastically over Zoom for our first chat. “If you look at his CV… it’s a pretty good CV, I must say! He’s a very clever man in what he does, and I’m glad he’s willing to take the time out. Hopefully, the music has infected him like it’s infected everybody else.”

Yet while the title may represent one aspect of Moore’s viewpoint and perhaps even reflects his self-esteem, it contradicts his ambitions for his band. After spending some time with them, it’s clear they are relentlessly focused on hitting the top or, more specifically, fulfilling their potential. But that balanced blend of gratitude and confidence is unquestionably apparent when speaking with Moore and bandmates Scott Concepcion (guitar), Ryan Durrans (drums), and Matt Murphy (newly-installed bassist). 

Since starting life as a short-term project at college in Pemberton, it’s been a series of achievements and milestones rarely seen in the streaming age by an ‘indie’ band. 2019 saw them being hotly tipped as the Next Big Things but, while their progress was curtailed by the lockdowns of 2020/21, they still managed to sustain a presence through live streams. By the time debut album ‘How Beautiful Life Can Be’ hit the shelves and platforms in September 2021, the foundations of fanbase and catalogue were so firmly entrenched that it came as little surprise when the album hit the top spot on the UK Albums Chart in its first week. 

Pop music as a fairy tale, but their success brought some detractors. “In the beginning, people writ us off,” claims Moore, in his broad Wigan accent. “Only a very select couple of people. I think they thought we were engineered and walked into this. That was not the case at all.”

“It was early on so people didn’t know our history,” Durrans interjects. “Doing pub gigs every night for two years.’ ‘No one knows the actual start, do they?” adds Murphy. “They just think, ‘this band came out of nowhere.'”

“Which is also something to be happy about,” Moore concludes. “It was all organic. You can’t write stuff like that.” It’s one of the few times the young men offer anything but appreciation for their situation, but it belies an undercurrent of steel that one senses has been formulating at the same pace. 

However, Moore refuses to be drawn on the competition, instead focussing on what is within their control; “I’m not going to try and take it all the way to the top thinking we’re like everybody else. It’s a testament to us that we’ve got to where we are without any bells and whistles, special tricks, or any backing behind the scenes or anything. But we’ve still outperformed most people out today.”

We speak twice, just over a week apart, either side of an intense, whirlwind pub tour for the quartet, all of which are special shows for fans who have pre-ordered the second album. Before the gigs, Moore is glowing with the feedback for the new songs so far; “The reaction has more than doubled from the first album. We’ve kept the strong core fanbase, nobody’s dropped off in the transition from album one to album two, but the reaction and support from new people as well. It’s been amazing, the amount of new people that have got on to us.”

A few days later, before the last show of the week at the Lexington in London, the four young men are backstage, tired but elated with the response they’ve since had. “We’ve had feedback through the speakers because people have been singing that loud (at) each gig,” says Moore. “My vocal isn’t coming out loud enough on every show. So that’s a very good sign! Our tour manager, Jim, has been working front of house…and monitors, and sorting out merch…! But when he is doing front of house, he said every night has been so loud. It’s been amazing. We’ve been able to see everybody.”

“Everything we do is just an excuse to get on the road and play for people. Although each show is very different, and the pub run is smaller stages, we’re working on the actual sonics of the sound. What we create just as ourselves, no bells and whistles.” Moore, in particular, treats every experience as a learning curve, constantly thinking ahead; “But at bigger shows, Castlefield for instance, we’re thinking about how we can make the show different to anything fans might have been to before. How can we make it bigger and better, in terms of the production and the stage, and how we play the songs?”

Although they will likely have some high-profile festival slots in the summer (about which they are saying nothing, one of many things they won’t be drawn on) the Lathums’ summer will be based around a huge outdoor show at Manchester’s Castlefield Bowl, which may very well have sold out by the time you read this. Their collective excitement for the show is palpable, with Moore keeping a hawkish eye on ticket sales: “It’s getting very tight, which is absolutely mental. It’s more than double our biggest show. We sold more in the first couple of days than the cap of our last venue. Mental.”

“There’s so many things going on at the moment, and then on top of that, there’s the cost of living where nobody’s got much money to do anything, really. The fact that people are putting their money into it, and so many people, to come and see us… we’ll have to do something special.” Such as? “We’re trying to think, if we were making a full day of it, what would our fans appreciate? Not just what we want. The sound and the artists… that’s more important, to give them a good day.”

“There were kids at a signing the other day, and the parents were saying that they couldn’t go (to gigs) as they’re under 14, so it’ll be nice to see kids on shoulders,” adds Murphy. The whistlestop trip around the UK also included some record signings and the opportunity to press the flesh of their fanbase, which came in all shapes and sizes. “We had an 81-year-old woman come to the signing the other day! She was brilliant,” says Murphy incredulously, while Moore adds, “She was probably one of the most excited there. (We had) full-on families from the oldest to the youngest.”

Therein lies the key to the Lathums’ success: A universality that can (and does) span generations, speaking of recognisable themes and the emotions of life. Although a late bloomer (Moore claims he didn’t get involved in music until his late teens), the frontman is the architect of all the songs, which he then presents to his bandmates for interpretation. “It’s changed quite a lot through the process,” he explains. “But a good process now is we’ll be in the rehearsal room and jam through a certain amount of songs. Not because they’re (the others) bad songs or anything like that, but usually we’ll find a couple of them are just natural. We play really easily and it just fits into place. Then sometimes there’s songs that will need a bit of revision. Because there’s so many songs and not enough releases to warrant getting those songs out, it’s a toss-up. We might think one song’s amazing and should replace that… there’s so many avenues. It’s an ever-changing landscape which is hard to navigate sometimes.”

Unfortunately for the young singer, his protracted development has brought about an ever-growing catalogue of tunes that seem destined to either find themselves homeless or unreleased for a lengthy amount of time. “There’s too many songs already, and we can’t release enough of them,” he claims. “And I’m writing new songs and it’s a big mess in my notebook at the moment. It wouldn’t be nice to sit and sift through them, there’s so many songs and not enough time. Not enough release dates!”

But what of the songwriting process itself? Clearly, Writer’s Block is not an affliction he currently suffers from. “A lot of the time, I won’t lie to anybody, it just happens,” he says. “‘”I won’t necessarily think about it, or sit down and think, ‘I’m gonna write this song now.’ Sometimes I just get pulled toward the guitar and things start coming out naturally. The chords, the words, and the melody are just natural together. That happens more often than not.”

“I’m not going to sit here and say I plan it. Something’s inside me that’s just very intense and I need to get it out. Maybe that’s where the juxtaposition of the darkness of the moods but the joy in the music…I’m trying to vent it all out in the words and the music is making me happy. It’s kind of giving me therapy and making me feel better.”

The songs on ‘From Nothing To A Little Bit More’ are unashamedly honest, Struggle and Undeserved in particular almost unbearably so (“They tell me that I will wind up dead if I continue the path that I’m on”). To channel honesty could be said to be the duty of certain songwriters, but that doesn’t make it easy and Moore gives credit to the support of his friends. “At the start, it was a bit harder (presenting songs), but there was never any laughs, sniggering, takin’ mick or anything. I just showed my songs and they’re musicians, they latched onto it as I would.”

“Because the new album is very, very personal, I second guess myself: ‘Should I have said those things?’ I put myself in front of it a bit now but I’ll never hide anything. I always want to be honest. I think we’re doing it in the right way.” Is there no temptation to write from an alternative point of view, or to smother the lyrics beneath a character? “I tried (that) in the early days and I got some good stuff out of it, but I find the natural thing that comes out of me is my perspective. Those are the best things that come out of me.”

One particular song title is intriguing: ‘I Know Pt 1’. Showing his hand, Moore admits that, “Pt 1 is the admittance of it, then maybe in the future I’ll be able to write ‘I Know Pt 2’, just when I’ve become wiser.” Which is the young man in a nutshell: always leaving signposts to the future, ensuring there’s always a loose end to tie up.

The album was recorded in early 2022, during which Moore was going through a painful breakdown of a relationship, but he is reflective a year on; “Luckily, even though it’s not the same as it was, I still feel that love. I don’t think I’ll ever get rid of that. If anything, it makes me happy that I can still remember it like that. I still feel that love, really.” He wasn’t without support from his friends at the time, as Durrans succinctly puts it; “We deal with each other day in and day out. No matter what state someone’s in, we’re gonna be there. It didn’t hinder the recording experience whatsoever, if anything it helped it. We still had a good time.”

Moore shuffles uncomfortably when talking about his work or his life, looking at the floor or the wall. He obviously knows it’s a requirement to talk about his craft but he doesn’t have to be happy about doing so. Yet he brightens and makes eye contact when he discusses his mate’s part in the process; “I just write on my own a lot of the time, and I’ll have a certain idea of a song. But when I bring it to the lads and we play it, the whole sound of it changes. Scott talks through the guitar, whereas I’m talking through my vocals and into the song. It’s very happy, his guitar playing, and it works with a dark song.”

Ah yes, Scott Concepcion. If you’ve seen The Lathums live, you’ll be familiar with the dexterity and intricacy that the big-haired youngster has on the axe. In their early days, comparisons were made with Johnny Marr but his work on the new album is more in the vein of the restless John Squire. Indeed, just making those two comparisons highlights what a versatile and talented player he is, but Concepcion plays everything down. “I’ve stopped intentionally taking influence,” he states nonchalantly. “In the studio, I just play what’s natural and vent through ideas and see what everyone’s feeling. See what comes down through the astral conduit, as they say.”

While the guitarist plays it down, his frontman refuses to acquiesce: “Can I just say that it’s always happened from the beginning. There’s been comparisons for Scott’s guitar playing because he was so good at a young age. People were kind of shocked, but there’s nobody that plays guitar like him. There’s no comparison, I know we’re young, but not just in his age bracket. I reckon he could go into a room with any prolific legend and they’d be a bit worried about him when he starts playing.”

Yet, although the universal songs are successfully bringing in the masses and multiple generations, it’s possibly not who they are written for. No details of their past are given, but Moore alludes to ‘dark’ things and it appears to be the motivation for a new charitable venture (the A Chance To See fund), as he explains: “It’s basically just giving youngsters and people that aren’t in very good positions a chance to have some good experiences with music. Just as we found our way with music, (we thought) it would be nice to put that back into the world.”

“Where we found solace and got that escape in music, and that sense of safety, we wanted that for other people. Now we’re in the position we are with the band, we can definitely make that happen. It’s for any person that needs to feel safe and cared about. It’s important to us.” The idea is in its gestation stage so, as ever, Moore is reluctant to proffer any specifics: “Because of the things that have been happening with the band, I think it’s important we use it in a positive manner. We’re just brainstorming and trying things at the minute and just try and do something good.”

As part of the announcement for ‘From Nothing To A Little More’, it was disclosed that the band had matured a lot across 2022, a fact with which Durrans readily agrees: “In pretty much every way possible: us as people, the music itself. We’ve all matured a lot through touring and being away. We’ve bonded more and grown closer and closer. We almost morphed into one, at one point! I think it shows through the music: everything sounds better and more mature. I’m happy with where we’re at.”

Part of that change included the recruitment of Matty Murphy on bass, initially as a live player before his inauguration into the band full-time in January. Murphy is a gregarious character who appears to have slipped in with ease. During points in the conversation where Moore is ruminating or hesitant, the Liverpudlian readily jumps in as support, enthusiastic about his time with the band thus far: “It’s been amazing. An onwards and upwards situation really. We cracked on and bonded straight away. The first gigs I done were in Europe with the Killers, so we were away together and we were always with each other and got on really well. After that, it was like, ‘I don’t want to just be a session player now,’ and they didn’t want that either, so it was great.”

“He has to say that, we’ve got a script in front of him!” laughs Moore, before adding detail to the story. “We went on tour on the last day of recording and went to the airport. We literally finished the last session, packed the gear up and we drove up to the airport. We were literally in the middle of a tour when Matty joined us, so he had to just jump in and do it. He absolutely smashed it.”

“And continues to smash it to this day,” adds Concepcion, in a firm testimony to the unity of the group. However, the circumstances of Johnny Cunliffe’s (Murphy’s predecessor) departure from the band are kept a close secret (“We’re not talking about other people,” says Moore, assertively), and that refusal to talk about certain subjects, along with a determined sense of control, recalls Arctic Monkeys and their approach. It seems that the Lathums have learned how to play ‘the game’ very quickly, with a healthy distrust of the media combined with an overall sense of control.

The comparisons with the Sheffield icons don’t end there, with producer Jim Abbiss (the man behind the desk for the legendary ‘Whatever People Say I Am, That’s What I’m Not’) stepping in for the Lathums’ second album. Although pleased with Abbiss’ contribution, Alex Moore acknowledges his inexperience when it comes to recording techniques: ‘I don’t profess to be educated in drums at all, but the sound and the recording process is great. In terms of the sonics, and the drum and bass side, it turned out really well. The songs sound really good.”

While the producers change, one constant presence in the recording sessions is the group’s mentor John Kettle, their former teacher and a man for whom the group is full of praise. “We met him through the college that we (Moore, Durrans, and Concepcion) met in, in Pemberton,” explains Moore. “From the very, very beginning he just understood us. He knew how to talk to us and how to get the best out of us. Not just musically, but as people. Very clever man in many ways.”

“The way we are with music, he’s honed that ability in us for years. He can see potential in songs before anybody else can. He delves in and can hear things that other people can’t hear. He lets the song breathe. It’s easier for us to concentrate on our parts. He’s not afraid to say, ‘it could be way better, you could make that way better in some regard,’ and he’ll set us off on a task to figure it out. For album two, John was integral in the way it was recorded to the very end. John was pretty much the driving force.”

“We’ve had so much time with him, and he’s known us from when we first began musically. He speaks how we speak, he’s a musician to the core and understands that about us.”

Such a down-to-earth presence is probably vital for these young men, still in their early twenties but perennially hitting milestone after milestone in their career. As grounded as they are, they acknowledge the direction their lives are travelling. “We just have completely different lives to people our age,” says Concepcion. “I was with a couple of mates, who I don’t get to see all that often these days, and we were talking about bank holidays. I was just thinking to myself, ‘I forgot bank holidays existed!’ Weekends don’t exist, bank holidays don’t exist.”

“It sounds braggy but it’s not, it’s just the way it is,” adds Durrans. “The way I see it is that we never really clock off work. It’s like life and job became one at a certain point and now that’s it.”

“It never ever feels like work,” clarifies Moore. “We went for a PR date a couple of weeks ago and we were just walking around Milan. We were just exploring and it was like, ‘this is our job!’ Seeing things at a young age, no responsibilities apart from turning up and doing our job. And that’s the easy part.”

“The only thing is, our every moves have been watched for the last few years. Not that we’ve got anything to hide, but you have to grow up being watched. People have watched us change. It’s a bit mad that. I got hugely fat at one point and it was documented! If nobody knew who I was that would never have happened.”

“It’s a different way of living,” says Murphy before Durrans adds, incredulously: “People chat about our cars on Facebook!”

After the pandemic had threatened to stifle their career, the Lathums made up for lost time in 2022, with support slots for Kasabian in the UK and the Killers in Europe, both valuable experiences for Moore, in particular: “You see their process and how professional they are, and you pick things up subconsciously. Especially watching them on stage, I found that very helpful: how they engage with the crowd. I’m not naturally that kind of guy, I’m alright being in the background and not talking to anybody but that’s not what a frontman does, is it?”

Moore is doing himself a disservice. The love and positivity from the audience at the band’s gigs are unique, but he plays down his part in proceedings: “If you go in with the mindset of; ‘I wanna bring everyone together’ then it’s a group effort. It’s not us on the stage and the others behind the barrier, it’s a whole room of people. We bring them along with it. It’s not like we’re fighting to get the crowd’s attention. They’re there, and they want to be there. We just have to make the noises right.”

The European shows were, “a bit of a dream come true. We didn’t know what to expect. We’ve never been to these places and don’t speak the same language…well, to be fair, everybody speaks good English, it’s us that arrogantly can’t speak theirs. I’m trying to learn different phrases but it’s hard when you’re in Germany one day, Belgium, Italy, France…all in a week. You start losing your words! But everywhere we played, people were just really happy that they’d found us.”

There it is again, that gratitude. At their show at the Lexington later that night, the quartet sum up the last vestiges of their energy for a rollicking gig, but they never take things for granted. Moore never fails to sound heartful when he says, “thank you very, very much” after every track. Even with a smattering of unheard songs (“It was well fun playing some of the new songs. You can see people trying to figure it out; is this theirs…?”) in a semi-acoustic set, it’s a rambunctious Saturday night crowd. 

Despite their trajectory suggesting pub gigs will soon be a thing of the past, the group are determined not to forget their roots. “I’d like to always do stuff like this,” says Moore, earlier in the day. “We’d have to do it in the right way so people are getting their money’s worth but pub shows will always be important. Perhaps every year and do something with local places that need a bit of love.”

Indeed, the shows take place shortly after Independent Venue Week and, while not officially part of the campaign, they fulfil the same function, as Durrans attests: “I think it’s good to remind people that bands still play little venues. It’s not just big bands in venues, places like this are still going every week. They’re all fading away.” “It happens with quite a lot of them but this is why we want to keep doing it,” adds Matt, firmly. 

“We’ve never done anything like this before and we walked in blind,” reflects Moore. “We didn’t know what to expect from the shows. Well, back in the day there was five heads there! But we’re on a completely different scale now and it’s been amazing. If we do it again, we’ll get better at planning it and we’ll have different ideas,” the focused determination once again shining through.       

—   

When asked about other bands at similar stages, such as the Reytons (also recently at No. 1), Moore is frank and claims he pays the competition little regard: “Not even in a bad way, there’s not enough time. We just want this to be as successful as we can make it, and any spare time we have is spent on something to do with the band. Even if it’s not rehearsing, there’s something going on. Just to help ourselves and in turn help the industry we’re in, hopefully.”

“We love it, but the way I see it, the more days we put in now, it’ll just make everything way more efficient in the future. Whatever mistakes we make, we figure out, and whatever goes right, we figure that out too. I think it’s good to put everything you have into it if you care about it. I don’t think our families recognise us anymore.”

“We don’t want to put any limits on it. We’ll take it as far as our legs and our songs will take us. Let’s just keep it simple for now: I hope the album puts us in a different space in people’s minds. We’re here to stay. We’ve got more than enough material, drive, and passion. This is all we want to do: play music and share it with people. It’s helped people’s lives, and that’s not something to pass by. I’d like for people who are outside of the UK, people from different cultures, or just anybody to find solace in these tunes, even if we don’t look the same. I want everybody to find a part in it because music is for everybody. It’s the universal language.”

And what of the future? Professional as ever but always planning, Moore replies with a knowing smile: “We’re just concentrating on the album, but there’s always something up our sleeves.”

‘From Nothing To A Little Bit More’ is out now.

Words: Richard Bowes