When you see an album description on Bandcamp, that speaks directly to you, the reader, as if you yourself are a valued member of the band’s musical audience, how can you not be so intrigued you have to listen to it?
“The words of this album are about the world you are all currently trapped in. It is also possible you may recognise some of the thoughts and situations.” – Fled Astray on Bandcamp
Well, I was and I did. And the description was correct – I did indeed recognise some of the thoughts and situations so accurately, poignantly and vehemently described on Demagogue Go. And even better than that, I got to chat with Syd Howells, singer and lyricist from said musical combo, about the making of the album – a collaboration between Syd Howells & Alig Fodder (of Family Fodder).
So here, for your reading pleasure, is my conversation with Syd, on interesting (not beige) music, the reality of respectful collaboration, and how writing lyrics has helped him manage the frustrations of the “unremitting hell” that is the UK right now.
So, Syd, what’s your earliest memory of music?
My parents’ 1960’s singles and LPs. The first album I listened to was still my favourite album. It was Revolver by The Beatles.
Well, you know, that it could be worse.
It could be a lot, lot worse. But, yeah. I still love it. It’s diverse. It’s everything that was marvellous about The Beatles.
Yeah, I hear that diversity in your music. Where your parents really into music then?
No. Strangely enough, all of their records were put away. It was it really bizarre. But I discovered them, and set in in motion the ruination of my life.
So how did you move from being inspired by Revolver to where you are now, as a musician?
I had an idiot for a teacher – it was myself. I sort of taught myself how to badly play everything I possibly could. You’ll note that Alig does all the music on the album. There may well be a reason for this. I have a very relaxed relationship with musical timing.
When did you discover that you had an interesting relationship with musical timing?
I don’t know if it’s an interesting relationship – more an occasional disregard. I mean, I can play in time – but there’s something about the creativity of moving outside of that, and I find that really interesting, and rewarding. I quite like a little bit of chaos: something a bit different. But then I don’t mind monotony. Like CAN – half an hour of basically the same thing: that’s absolutely fine. That’s intentional, if weird, monotony.
So what instruments have you picked up, had some fun with, and put down again?
I don’t think we’ve got long enough to talk about.
Is everything an instrument?
Yeah. Everything is an instrument. Absolutely. I think on a previous record, I did use the office shredder as a form of rhythm. And I remember years ago, I had an argument with my friends, about me listening to Throbbing Gristle. They said “that’s not music” – but it is music. Everything is music. Walking out the front door is music. And, you know, personally, I like that.
So do you think you’ve got a really heightened sense of sound and rhythm?
Yeah. Probably. I think, well I can see possibilities when I hear sounds. I always wonder “Would that sound work?” in my music.
And this is all the time, while you’re walking around? You’re tuned into it constantly?
Yeah. It doesn’t switch off, that’s for sure.
So how do you feel about the recordings you’ve made?
It just depends. After you’ve done something once, it doesn’t really feel that attractive to move back to that particular way of doing things or to the way it sounded. It’s like, I’ve done something, why do it again?
Is it a sense of improving, or is it a sense of moving on to a different thing?
I think it’s about adventure, and it’s about creating new music. You just do it. And it’s good at the time: it’s like a curiosity. Always curiosity. But in terms of the last idea, the last thing I did – well I’ve done that. I think “I’m gonna just look over here now, because that’s really interesting, that thing over there”.
Something like a Myth of Sisyphus vibe? Do you have to keep going and never look back, because the rock will fall on your head if you do?
Yeah. Pretty much. It’s that, or I’d have to go back and think “Oh my god – I’m so bad at mixing records. Why the hell I didn’t do that properly?”.
You mix as well then?
I didn’t with the Alig album because Alig is a musician and actually knows how to make things sound good. And, I’m more a sort of, “Yeah. That’ll do. Moving on” person. But no, it was really enjoyable actually, doing this with Alig, because the deal was that Alig do the music, and I do the words and the singing. He would create and record the music, and then I would record my bits and send them across to him. On one occasion, I did try smuggling some bass guitar into what I sent him, but he wisely ignored that. He didn’t say anything. He just took it out. I think the record sounds a lot better for him following that approach.
How did you meet? How do you how do you know each other?
Years and years ago, I was with a guy called Steveless, real name Dan Newman, who was a favourite of John Peel. Well, we did some stuff together, and we covered a Family Fodder song, Kisses, on one of our records, which we put on the free music archive. It had a very snappy title – Stolen Owls May Die Fears Owner (and also has the quite fabulous description: “Anti pop. Do no listen to this.” – Aitch).
And, via Myspace – what old people used to go on – Alig got in contact. And he said he liked our cover, but that it was very faithful to the original, and he felt we could have done something “a bit weirder” with it. And he’s probably right. I remember thinking, in terms of weird things that happened to me that particular day, it was definitely in the top five.
And then we just sort of kept in touch, really. I remember him saying at one point, about my music, “through all of this noise, there’s someone underneath that can sing”. And I said “Surely not. You’ve got no proof. You’re a mad fool”. Then a couple of years ago, he asked if I wanted to make a record. So I agreed to us doing a distance recording together – I’m in Wales, he’s in Greece – and we just went for it.
The first track we did, Infirmary, is the first track on the album.He sent me the music, and I realised I had to come up with the goods. This was a bit more serious than me knocking out an album every three weeks – I was feeling like “Oh god, I can’t!”. But I did. And that was the kick-off point, really. I think it probably took just over a year to do finish. So there are no outtakes, Aitch. No outtakes.
Infirmary video
So do you send him ideas and stuff and he creates music that fits that?
No. He’ll send the music over, and then, I’ll go through the notebooks and see if I can come up with an idea for the lyrics, and then we take it from there. Alig, well he’s very much a “proper” musician, and he also remains one of the few people who can tell me how badly out of tune or key I am. He says “Do that again” and I go “Yeah. Okay”, and I do it.
Does that – well, does that approach work for you? As a way of collaborating?
Yeah. Absolutely. And, for me, it’s been very, very enjoyable. It’s been something that’s very, very different for me and quite a way out of my comfort zone, I think. But it’s actually been a lot of fun. I’ve collaborated with other people, but many of them are probably just as anarchic as I am. So this is a different approach. It’s been very important to me. And the album’s a bit of a social critique, but a very gentle one. It’s certainly nothing like anything I’ve really done before.
The social critique bit or the gentle bit?
The gentle bit. Definitely not the social critique. Everything I write about is social critique. I remember having a conversation with a friend, years ago – they were saying they hate politics. But politics is every part of our bloody lives – every bit. It has an impact on everything.
The difference between big P and small p politics maybe? When people talk about politics, they can immediately think of party politics and not that everything is political – part of how we live?
But, of course, all these politicians, making decisions, they have an impact upon us in some way or another, usually for the worse. Unfortunately, the people who make the decisions aren’t always the ones that should be making them.
Politics then, is a little bit like music, or sound, for you? It’s everywhere and everything?
Yeah. I mean, it helps that Alig and I are pretty much on the same wavelength, politically. I mean, we’re left wing, absolutely. And with that comes a lot of things that we disapprove of; populism, racism. Prejudice. And it’s always very difficult, when you turn on the television, and think “What has the circus brought us today? What fresh hell? It’s absolutely, unremitting hell. So yeah, it is quite a political record, I think, if you sit down and look at the lyrics. You can learn everything from that. I wanted to include the lyrics, so if someone’s interested in the record then they can have the actual words there. Alig thought that was a deeply eccentric thing to suggest – he was wondering if we should add the musical transcript” *laughs*. But Alig is an exceptional musician. And to this day, I have no idea why he picked me. But no, he’s a wonderful musician and, and he can play everything, pretty much.
It sounds like you’re a really nice working relationship, a meeting of opposites in the way you do things?
Absolutely. I think the way it’s worked, for me, it’s been really, really positive. There have been no angry words. It’s been more about, well, exploring. We don’t fall out. There are no problems. Absolutely none at all. Disappointingly so for any interviewers I imagine. And I think it comes across in the music. I think the music is quite gentle, generally.
Yes, and very layered.
It’s very, very layered. Absolutely. And I think that’s its strength as well – you can listen and think “I didn’t hear that before”. Which makes it a deep and really interesting, well, engaging, album. It’s not hard to listen to, like some of them out there, you know, some more avant-garde stuff… And, I I think that the lyrics are definitely very me, and I think the music’s very definitely Alig as well. And we’re fortunate enough in that. It seems to work. And, of course, there’s no pressure on us, really. It was like, alright – you can write about whatever. It’s fine.
So does Alig give you themes or any direction for the lyrics?
He just sends the music. And then it’s a case of constructing some interesting lyrics. That’s the most important thing – is that music interesting? Or is it beige? I mean, I really don’t want to do beige – no beige, no polyester.
It does feel really human – definitely not polyester. Or beige.
Yeah. Definitely no polyester. No AI involved in this. We’re all cotton and linen. No itchy bits. I mean, I think in the times we’re living in, you know, AI and all of that sort of thing, it’s everywhere now, and horrifically so. I think it’s refreshing and reasonable to have something that’s human. And desirable. Something people could hopefully connect with. It’s a social critique. It’s not florid. It’s not pretentious. It’s just, singing about what makes you happy and sad. Which feels a bit unusual, for this time. Significant. I mean, at the moment, it appears that we, as a society, are attempting to become a really bad nineteen thirties tribute act, and I’m not so keen on that. I’d love to look through these rose-coloured spectacles. However, tragically, it’s always been rubbish. That you would go, “In my day, it was like…”? I mean no, things were rubbish. You’ve just chosen to forget how rubbish it was.
Does writing the lyrics for the album, creating a sort of critique of society, does that help get out some of your frustration and anger about the state we are in? Or is it more a call for change – “Sort it out, you buggers” kind of thing…
Well, I don’t shout very often. If I’m annoyed, it’s in the lyrics. So yeah – I park it in the lyrics. I don’t need to be angry or irate about anything – I can just hide it in the words. So it can be both I guess, depending on how annoyed I get. If I’m really, really annoyed, then it’s very obvious in the in the words. I’m a bit softer if I’m just mildly peeved by whatever’s happening. But the meaning will always be explicit.
So a way of managing your frustrations – a release valve.
Yes. It’s a release valve for an increasingly unhinged existence.
So thinking back to human connection, are you planning any live shows? Will you tour the album?
No. Not at the moment. Because – well, I think it’d be probably quite difficult to do, you know – to be fair, who’s going to come out and see us? We all struggle to put on gigs when your music isn’t so very polished. We’re not a nineteen thirties bad replica kind of thing…we’re not the kind stuff people are fed. They’re fed it, so that’s what they go for. It’s not their fault, is it – but how can people come to you? How will they find you? But I think the vast majority of people are good, you know, you have to have faith in the music, faith in human race.
I guess also performing live isn’t so easy when you are in Wales and Alig in Greece? How do you meet to make music? On video calls? By email? Actually…have you met?
No. We are two people who haven’t actually met in person, making an alarmingly human record. It’s just joyous. You can’t make it up.
Well thank you Syd, for chatting with me.
Thank you – it’s nice of you, because I know there’s like a million records released every two and a half seconds. Most of them beige.
Yeah. Beige. Or death metal. There is no in-between.
Interview ends, with much laughing.
Demagogue Go by Fled Astray was released on 29th August 2025 by Wormhole World Records and is available from Bandcamp
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Interview by Aitch Nicol
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