Bug Teeth discuss life beyond ‘Lucky Me, Lucky Mud’: “It’s a toddler now, and we’re ready for more childbirth”
I can’t quite remember when or where I first met the endlessly lovely and equally talented members of Bug Teeth, but there’s a good chance it was at Leeds’ most beloved venue, the Brudenell. The social club-turned-cult venue has become a hub for the city’s music community, bringing together artists, industry professionals and fans alike. Luckily, for my iPhone recording capabilities and transcription skills, it’s fairly quiet on a Tuesday evening when I catch all five Bug Teeth members there for a pint and a chat about their upcoming vinyl release.
Sitting in the corner of Brude’s main room, our conversation is punctuated by the sounds of Leeds United drawing with Salford City and a playlist any one of us could have made. Bug Teeth began in 2018 as the solo project of front-person PJ, but over the years they’ve carefully collected a band of bugs to support their sonic endeavours. Starting out as a live outfit, they released their first studio work together earlier this year with Lucky Me, Lucky Mud. It’s an EP that’s endlessly and rightfully been described as ethereal and dreamy, but the band themselves assert that it also “rocks”.
To soloist-turned-lead vocalist, guitarist and synth player PJ, it feels like “the perfect knot tying the end of the little gift that was Bug Teeth as a solo project”, while synth player Alex describes it as sounding like “a band trying to figure out how to be a band”. If it does sound that way, it’s because that’s exactly the position the band found themselves in while recording it. Though they had played together in various formations before – most notably in the frenzied psych-rock outfit Gladboy – Lucky Me, Lucky Mud presented a whole new challenge: translating PJ’s existing solo work to a group context.
After the front-person found themselves struggling to realise their increasingly ambitious ideas alone, they recruited Alex to help out on synth, alongside drummer George, guitarist and lap steel player Sonny, and bassist Adam (who also mixed and mastered the EP). When the five of them came together in a practice room, things immediately fell into place: “Just having the Bug boys around meant that music felt fun. It didn’t feel like a massive challenge or like I was trying to write all this stuff that I couldn’t actually do. It was just like, ‘Oh, right. This is why I like making music.’ It felt natural, again, rather than unnatural.”
It helped that the bugs were already fond friends – Adam notes that the “friendship element initially made it a whole lot easier.” Now, according to their vocalist, it feels like they can read each other’s minds: “These guys know what sounds I like so implicitly that I can play anything and be like, ‘Okay, now make it how I like it’, and they can just do it… I just feel very lucky to have people that know that, even when I can’t verbalise it. What a treat.”
Lucky Me, Lucky Mud is a treat of its own, a sparkling collection of tracks that splices synthy soundscapes with ever-surprising elements like breakbeats. The EP acts as a culmination of their collaborative efforts and the latest entry into the Bug Teeth saga, one that they feel relieved to have finally put out into the world: “It’s nice to have the EP finished and out there and running around. It’s like a toddler now, and we’re ready for more childbirth.”
Amid Bug Teeth’s transformation from solo cocoon to collaborative butterfly, the band relocated from Norwich, where they first met, to Leeds. Now, they exist within the supportive ecosystem of creativity that is the city’s DIY scene: “It’s just very inspiring, because everyone makes music and everyone in our circle is creative.” The healthy amount of competition in the city has also facilitated their growth, as Alex dubs it, “just the right speed”.
Though they’ve found a home in their adopted city, PJ acknowledges that neither Norwich or Leeds is as diverse as it should be or deserves to be. Accordingly, it’s particularly important to Bug Teeth that they play not just “with all white dudes”: “It’s nice to have a tiny bit of control in the people we play with. Anytime we get to choose, that’s what we’re trying to do.” When I ask them to shout out their favourite upcoming Leeds bands, they name lo-fi emo-shoegaze outfit Shaene, bedroom musician Mage Tears, and avant-funk soloist Hang Linton.
The group have found inspiration in many of the bands that exist around them in Leeds, only adding to their already lengthy list of influences. PJ cites Yo La Tengo and Broadcast as their most consistent influences, while Sonny suggests that Bug Teeth calls upon his adolescent love for bands like My Bloody Valentine: “It really speaks to a version of myself that I call back to. It’s the band I would have always wanted to be in.”
Day to day, though, the guitarist listens to “a lot of really long and repetitive music”, a description Bug Teeth seem to emulate in the practice room: “We struggle to bring it down below the six-minute mark. I think if we were given the means, I would encourage us to make a good hour-long song.” When I ask about their process to get songs below six minutes, he jokes, “We’re all looking really confused in a lab, wearing lab coats.”
According to George, lengthier tracks are more conducive to how they write together, which is primarily in a jam context: “It’s purely based on feeling”. While there’s a discipline to this process, Bug Teeth also allow for some indulgence: “If it works as a short song, it works as a short song. If it works as a long song, fuck it.”
Though they’ve been jamming in basements and performing on stage together for years now, the band still seem to harbour a shyness when they’re writing together. The drummer muses, “It’s really frustrating that we’re so self-conscious. It’s ridiculous, considering how long we’ve played together and how well we know each other’s playing.” PJ agrees, “We’re the shyest band ever, and everyone thinks they’re the worst musician in the room. One person will have an idea, and everyone else will be like, ‘Oh well, we can’t fucking do better than that, can we.’”
Sonny suggests that this self-consciousness stems from their respect for each other, which leads to a loop of self-hatred. “It’s a never-ending loop of self-flagellation”, emphasises George, which prompts the lap steel player to suggest Bug Teeth whips as a merch idea (PJ shuts him down with a swift, “We’re not doing that”.)
Bug Teeth’s self-consciousness extends far beyond the practice room. It’s a feeling they still maintain even after their material has been released: “It’s less about other people’s reactions because I feel secure knowing that I’ve sent them to a good place, it’s just like, ‘Oh my god, I hate it now, I’ve listened to it so much, and now I can write better things. So I’ve sent out a version of myself that I don’t even identify with anymore.’”
Since the EP, the band have improved their sound further, a development which, paradoxically, frustrating. “Knowing that we’ve written better stuff as a band, and we’re the best versions of ourselves now and no one’s heard that music yet, that’s frustrating. Hearing everyone compliment the EP, it’s like, just fucking wait, because it’s gotten so much better,” they remark.
Even before the EP was released, George recalls their bassist declaring, “This is just guitar music. No one’s gonna listen to it.” For those who are familiar with the EP, it seems like a ridiculous statement. Though it’s guitar-driven, it transcends any constrictions of genre or instrumentation, gently guiding listeners through glistening soundscapes and atmospheric ambience. Still, despite the overwhelmingly positive reception, the band’s self-doubt remains strong.
While they were recording the EP, George was still learning how to drum, which has led to frustrations when listening back: “If I recorded it now, I could get the songs to a perfect take in a way that I struggled with while we were recording. I’m hoping one day I’ll look back on that fondly.” Luckily, true to his words on the band’s unceasing internal respect, Sonny is already prepared to look at it fondly. He sighs before assuring George that, “It serves the music so well. I wouldn’t change a thing about it.”
“I think we’re constantly measuring ourselves against all of the things that we’re really inspired by,” says the drummer, acknowledging that their self-consciousness might stem from the polished self-assuredness of many of their influences. Luckily, they seem to have found a way to combat the disparity between their past musicianship and the present, inspired by one of their muses, Animal Collective, a band who frequently play their old songs in their current style. This is particularly inspiring to Sonny, “That’s something that’s always going through my head when I’m trying to make music. Metamorphosis.”
Although they haven’t honed a discography as prolific as Animal Collective’s, many of their songs have transformed since their initial inception. In the process between recording and performing, Alex suggests that “they grew so much, especially ‘Kafka and ‘Virgo’… There is a constant change which I like. I wouldn’t want it to be static in the way that something just gets set and stays the same for ages.”
The band are keen for that unfixed element of their music to translate to audiences, too. The way that they play music, allows for people to put any number of meanings onto it. This is partly because of how many feelings they collectively infused the music with: “It started as one thing, and it keeps mutating. Even if I felt a particular way writing it, when we all played together, it became something entirely new, and so I don’t think the experience of listening to it can be fixed.”
Part of that flexibility comes from PJ’s lyrics, which often leave room for the audience to paste their own interpretations onto them. On ‘Ice-9’, they sing, “The ascension of souls towards the next thing, like sperm towards the egg, floating, cold as ice nine”. They’re lyrics that are vast and spacious, just like the instrumentals that accompany them, but they’re also intimate and thoughtful.
The lyricist, in true self-deprecating Bug Teeth style, downplays them as vague, but George describes the words as refreshingly clean and tight. “It feels like every single word is important and where it is in the lyrics is important as well, like if you changed it, it would mean something completely different – which it does for every single person, and don’t you forget it”, Sonny adds.
Though the band seem averse to anything static, they have allowed Lucky Me, Lucky Mud to be pressed onto vinyl. Though Sonny jokes that they’re only doing it so they can scratch, having a physical version of the EP seems genuinely important to Bug Teeth, a concrete reminder of their progress so far and an ode to their years of friendship. Adam explains, “My experience of being friends with these people has been to do with sitting in a bedroom listening to music on a disc, so to have the name on our own personal thing is very heartwarming.”
The importance of physical music to Bug Teeth is emphasised by their careful curation of accompanying visuals, working in collaboration with designer Hannah Woollam, who PJ dubs “a genius”. They’ve been creative partners since 2019, another example of how a long-standing friendship has fuelled Bug Teeth’s artistry. The vocalist notes, “I think visuals have always been really important to me when making music. To have this lovely little EP physically there, it’s meant to be seen, and it’s meant to be held. It’s part of the evolution as well. It’s meant to be thrown at a wall and used as a coaster.”
PJ and Hannah share one singular brain cell, which they take turns using to write music and design visuals respectively: “They just understand the music so implicitly, we don’t really need to say anything, and it will be represented perfectly.” Hannah also uses the front-person’s handwriting in the artwork, which the band suggest makes it feel like a visual extension of their vision, so much so that even PJ sometimes forgets they didn’t make it themselves.
The band’s onstage presence is also full of artistic intention, a live, visual representation of their soft sound. Donning matching bug hats and bringing an IKEA Djungelskog to each show they play (a huge stuffed bear, for the uninitiated), their live set welcomes audiences further into the Bug Teeth world. Earlier this year, the band took the bear on a trip to the capital for their biggest show yet – a personally selected support slot for Melody’s Echo Chamber at Scala.
The experience was simultaneously the most and least professional the singer has ever felt, as the band found themselves struggling to marry their surroundings with the mammoth opportunity. On one hand, it was their biggest crowd ever, and on the other hand, their dressing room was a toilet that was actively being used by the staff of the venue: “Such a bizarre clash of, ‘This is the biggest thing we’ve ever done and we are nothing.’”
Despite the less-than-glamorous green room, the show allowed Bug Teeth the opportunity to try their sound out on a larger stage, a setting the drummer prefers to dingy basement shows: “Because the songs are slow and spacious, being able to feel the reverb of the snare on the slow songs… I think it’s conducive to how spacious and experimental the music is. I think the texture, and being able to incorporate visual elements, is better on a bigger scale.”
Forgoing the individual self-consciousness, George takes the opportunity to gush over PJ’s work: “That’s what I like about your songwriting, it translates to that bigger space, but also, when you break it down, a lot of the songs are relatively simple in a way that means you can keep expanding them… ‘Virgo’ is just A the whole way through, but it’s all about using dynamics to make the song progress. Simplicity is key.” “It’s nothing if not textural music”, Sonny concludes.
As our conversation comes to a close, we discuss our favourite books and favourite bugs. Recently, PJ has become a “proud Kindle reader”, naming Flowers in the Attic by V. C. Andrews as their most recent read. They declare themselves a voracious reader who devours books, which prompts Alex to joke that they have a scheme where if someone reads more books than their leader, they take over the band, “It hasn’t happened yet.” “It’s the only reason I have to read so fast. They’re really testing me”, PJ adds.
The band are full of opinions when it comes to favourite bugs, an ode to their namesake. Adam declares his love for dragonflies, to which Sonny is horrified due to a traumatic dream he had as a child. In fact, Sonny brazenly declares that he’s “quite neutral about bugs”, a statement which causes even more uproar from his bandmates.
Alex pitches the larva of a caddisfly, which he notes makes “a house for itself of little pebbles”. At the moment, though, he’s fascinated by the humble ant: ”If they wanted to, they could wipe us out, but they’re too busy fighting wars amongst themselves. They’re just like us.”
PJ picks moths, noting that they wrote a song about their best friend’s phobia of them. Despite their bad reputation, Sonny is more sympathetic towards moths than dragonflies, lamenting, “They’re just lost souls. It’s quite sad, their story. They use light to navigate, and since the dawn of humans, they’ve just been totally confused.” Eventually, the band collectively concluded that their favourite bug is PJ.
When I ask what’s next for the bugs, PJ provides the diplomatic answer, stating, “We’re recording, we have recorded, and we will be recording more”, which prompts George to comment on the overwhelming financial difficulties of DIY music: “All these conversations in music about accessibility seem to overlook the fact it’s just objectively expensive, and no one can afford to be a part of it… We’d been playing together for three years before we had our own drum kit.” What’s next for Bug Teeth? “Bankruptcy”, Alex jokes.
Really, what’s next for the bugs is a headline UK tour. September and October will see them take to stages in Bristol, Manchester, Leeds and London and return to their hometown in Norwich. The tour surrounds the release of Lucky Me, Lucky Mud on vinyl, which lands on Friday, October 20th via Come Play With Me.
