There’s a haze of uncertainty in the air. It obscures the shapes and blurs the lines between reality and some bizarre recurring dream – a single detail changing each night, all the more unsettling. A new leader, a new controversy, or an altogether new way of living, when everything is changing all the time, all there is to do is find meaning in the unknown.
For Glasgow duo, Cloth, there was never really another option; the band’s very inception shrouded in anxiety as plans to tour their self-titled debut record were halted by COVID, twin siblings Rachel and Paul Swinton’s new EP, ‘Low Sun‘ comes as catharsis for these strange times.
“The light for us over lockdown was building our own studio,” Paul is sat alongside his sister in a white room with blue-grey soundproofing – the finished product. It’s a cold autumnal evening (on my side of the computer screen, anyway), and both are nursing large cups of tea. It feels more like a social spot than a workplace – relaxed and free of expectation.
“We always kind of wondered what it would be like to build our own thing – to have that luxury of taking things at our own pace,” Rachel glances around the room, it’s creation a positive by-product of the pandemic. Whilst unable to play live, time was reinvested into writing and recording the four songs found on the new EP. Paul interjects: “It was a double edged sword because it opened up a new door – but once that door is open its difficult to shut when you have all this freedom and you’re not working under the auspices of expensive studios,”
“There was a period where we were just writing music all the time, so I think we started using it as a sort of exploratory, experimental kind of space to test new ideas.” With just two guitars and a drum kit, Cloth’s secret for creating atmospheric and affecting music lies in letting each component breathe – be it the resonant harmonic lead lines that sing above hushed vocals, or the *bass* and drums working together as each song’s constant, churning heartbeat.
Reflective of the mood Cloth had going into recording this time, Low Sun feels more anxious. It’s songs build slowly, in melancholy and in terms of instrumentation. A haunting lullaby of a closing track, Sidecar‘s repetitious piano and bassline allow for the music box guitar and reverberating background swells to completely envelop, whilst the really lovely title track is Young Marble Giants and fellow Glaswegian’s The Blue Nile in one – a lesson in unassuming pop music.
“Our early ideas for the EP was to make something that sounded bigger and bolder which I think we achieved in comparison to the first record, and I think a lot of the time the touch points for that influence are bands like Mogwai who are masters of building these big explosive moments that crush you.”
The ties to Mogwai aren’t coincidental, either; earlier this year the band signed to the post-rock pioneers’ label, Rock Action after a friend sent their music to front man, Stuart Braithwaite, and are in turn set to support them at a special London show in February. Rachel smiles proudly – but recognizes her art is quietly unique: “the conversations we had with people on the label hadn’t really impacted on the music massively, but we’ve been listening to artists on their roster for quite a while so I guess it all seeps in.”
There’s an importance in having a sense of identity, not too rigid or prescribed. Away from the music (in which their influences are clear, but the sound is wholly themselves), Rachel designs the merchandise – googly eyed animals separate from the gloom of Cloth. “I love making our own stuff – merch that’s done by the band themselves always appeals to me more. I kinda like making funny stuff that doesn’t necessarily have a bearing on our music, stuff that’s just an expression of our personalities.”
The disconnect between Cloth’s music and almost everything else is refreshing. A lot of work went into Low Sun, and it seems now that they have their just reward. Leaving behind the music that was so relentlessly worked on over lockdown makes it the perfect catharsis – it’s eeriness still fitting for every strange thing that is happening.
Maybe we’re all cut from the same Cloth.
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