Two of Scotland’s proudest moments lay back to back. After Clash had battled through the globally renowned and rebranded bluster of ‘Hurricane Bawbag’ to interview Errors, we found the nation on a roll.
Steev Livingstone, one third of Glasgow melodic noise band Errors regales his band peer Simon Ward with a massive contemporary advance in science. “I actually watched a programme the other day where they were polishing shites!” he delights. “You know that Myth Busters programme? They were trying to bust the myth that you couldn’t polish a shite! I think they busted it.” Underachievers everywhere may now rejoice!
We’re sat in a pub in Glasgow with the pair pretending we aren’t drinking lager at midday. Simon and Steev are earnestly discussing their new album, and how just how good Simon has gotten at polishing the musical nuggets his pal brought him during the recent creation of their third album, ‘Have Some Faith In Magic’.
“I record things badly, but that’s my kind of aesthetic,” points Steev. “He tidies it up.” Simon nods dutifully before returning to the previous point: “Did they use varnish? And did they actually get it pure shiiiny?” he drawls.
Errors are all about the detail. ‘Have Some Faith In Magic’ is their third carefully assembled offering of hooky electronics, driving drums and carved melodies. This band that started so awkwardly in 2004 now are coherently making weird-as-fuck pop music without real words. Hailing from the digital hinterland of Glasgow means their sincere electronics mingle with an excellent live scene, long weekends of parties and eyelashes full of daily rain.
But Steev quickly and perhaps over-eagerly quashes any notion of this album being about Glasgow per-se. “No. It was just written here,” he replies clearly unimpressed with the question. “After the ceiling of our Bridgeton studio ceiling collapsed everything was waterlogged,” picks up Simon, “so we moved into my house to finish the recording.” Steev nods in approval at the memory: “It was way more relaxed. His flatmate would come in every now and then with loads of Irn Bru and biscuits. Its basically the sound track to us all watching Catchphrase and drinking Irn Bru.”
In domestic bliss, alongside other member James Hamilton they set about replacing keyboard hooks with distorted vocals. Following the blueprint set by the Cocteau Twins and later Panda Bear and Atlas Sound their elaborations used words for sounds rather their societal meanings, thus painting a melodic collage of emotion.
But deep within this process though lay a dark addiction. “We got pretty addicted to scratch cards,” sighs Simon. “At one point we’d got up to £50. So we bought twenty-five £2 scratch cards. The guy was saying to us, ‘Buy fifty lines on the Lottery and you’ll get more money’, but we wouldn’t listen to him,” adding despondently: “We lost the lot.”
Things are sounding more and more fucking Scottish, lads. Throw in detuned keyboards, drums inspired by marches and a track that sounds like it’s got bagpipes on it and the boys begin to acquiesce. “The girl who is directing our video this weekend,” confides Steev, “she’s got a white witch called Kevin in it. He’s the official protector of the Loch Ness Monster and it turns out he’s blessing our album. So maybe it is a bit Scottish, aye.”
From the rising melancholia of ‘The Knock’ to the cerebral punch of ‘Holus-Bolus’ and this musical collaborations sounds a mile away from the same nineteen-year-olds that brought us the art school huff and puff of ‘Mr. Milk’. Whether you believe in magic or not you’d be hard pressed not to be impressed by Errors transformation in to truly unique conjurors of sound.
Words by Matthew Bennett
Photo by Ross Mclean
