Their metal-meets-punk debut album is angry – very angry. They live for the stage, and that’s where they come alive.
EAST LONDON-BASED rage-propelled quartet Saint Agnes have just unleashed Bloodsuckers, their ferociously therapeutic Spinefarm debut. A largely self-produced record, it combines metal fury with punk attitude, industrial intensity and raw emotion – in particular This Is Not The End, an extraordinarily powerful piece recorded in the wake of the sudden, unexpected passing of vocalist/multi-instrumentalist Kitty A Austen’s mother.
We caught up with Austen and Jon James Tufnell (guitar, vocals, bass) recently to discuss the on-going passion of Saint Agnes. A matter of life and death? It’s way more important than that.
They don’t shoegaze.
Saint Agnes’s creative core came together as a direct reaction to the sonic complacency of the prevailing rock scene. “We were two lost souls,” says Tufnell. “In different bands, looking for a musical match. We got chatting and discovered a shared passion for bands with real intensity.”
“It was ten years ago now,” Austen adds. “It was all psychedelia and shoegaze back then, and while there’s a place for that, we both wanted to be in a bombastic, balls-out rock band.”
“It felt really rebellious to do that in London back then,” Tufnell says, smiling. “We had to tell people we were a psychedelic band to get gigs.”
Anger is their energy.
Austen has no doubt what feeds her scream: “A lot of anger. I’m an angry person, and there’s a lot in the world to be angry about. I’ve had a difficult time, particularly over the last couple of years. I’ve had some mental health problems, and my mum passed away unexpectedly. All that stuff channels into a rage that’s all over the new album.”
While Bloodsuckers is a very angry record, it’s also very joyous.
“When you’re facing the worst times,” Austen continues, “you enter a headspace where you’re also experiencing strange euphoric highs. So while the record is really, really angry it’s also full of hope.”
What you see is what you get.
Austen the performer and Austen the interviewee might appear to be polar opposites, but the transformation that takes place at the microphone is more instinctive than deliberate.
“I never adopt a persona, that’s just the part of me that comes to the fore when I perform. As soon as I hit the stage, the cocky, arrogant, angry and powerful part of me comes out. I’m always the best version of myself in that kind of do-or-die situation.”
“I see this happen up-close,” says Tufnell, “And it’s an instinctual part of entering the mind-set necessary to delivering this music. The music and the band matters so much to us that it is do-or-die. You simply have no choice but to r
