When I received a text from the No Snakes’ lead guitarist, Marcus, that the band was ready for the interview, I was, to say the least, perplexed. It was a week earlier than we had agreed, so I rushed into the soggy Wednesday night, with my quickly-written questions and pen in hand.
Marcus met me outside their Marrickville rehearsal space, lovingly called ‘No Snakes HQ’; a concrete vault strewn with steel chains that smelt of damp dust and machinery. The harsh exterior opened into a warm lounge-like room, blanketed by the sound of instruments and friendly chatter; I felt I had disrupted something sacred.
Within five minutes, the band began to wrap their world around me, blending me into their conversation as we spoke about their four-year history that was riddled with uncertainty and many lessons. Marcus summarised their journey so far, “it took a lot of ‘uncomfortability’ to find our comfortability”; they previously struggled to find a producer, a drummer and an EP that they were happy with — common woes of a promising indie band.
Finding your ‘sound’ as a band is like the drafting process of writing a novel; every page is exhausted with meticulous edits to the point of insanity, every sentence must be determined as purposeful, and every word should seamlessly flow into each other, where it reaches that ‘comfortable’ point. Marcus shared the two distinct times when their ‘sound’ was fully realised: the University of Sydney Battle of the Bands where they placed second, and when they received the master for their first single, ‘Bite My Tongue’. Javier, the lead singer, echoed Marcus, “we had finally figured out our shit” during the recording of their first EP, ‘Scared They’re Sick of Listening’.
And I could tell. The record itself reads relatively clean; the cover art assures you that the production won’t shake with first-time unfamiliarity and over-confidence. The EP, in Javier’s words, records the band’s journey, both personally and as a group; “each song is like a lesson learned, like a journal of the past two years’’
The first single, ‘Bite My Tongue’ exudes a Declan McKenna air of insecurity and personal tragedy against bright riffs and wry vocals. This song epitomises the EP’s ethos — it’s a track “that has meaning but is also fun to listen to.”
‘Sunkiss’ feels like its sister. Its production screams of modernity and follows an aesthetic which treats life as a hype-idealistic montage that the TikTok algorithm begs for. Unexpectedly, Marcus mentioned Olivia Rodrigo as an inspiration for the production as she combines “depth in her lyricism” with “pop-worthy” hooks.
Where their producer/roommate Matt shines is ‘Blame It On Me’. Matt mixes Javier’s surprisingly sorrowful vocals with Louella’s brittle drumming and Louis’ rough bass to create something of a classic. Matt is sadly moving to London leaving them “a bit fucked” according to Louella, which the boys’ awkward smiles mirrored.
‘Don’t Care To Know You’ sounds like one of Javier’s artistic inspirations, Harry Styles. The echoic guitars and whispering vocals are eerily similar to ‘Fine Line’ which does take away from the overall originality of the band. However, ‘Half Wise’ veers away from the derivative; the guitars and drums arch over the song, and build with intensity as they reach the finish line in tandem with Javier’s echoic vocals.
One of the most striking aspects of No Snakes is their branding. The band’s cover art, Spotify profile, and Instagram appear glossy and cohesive; Marcus and Javier are clearly making good use of their marketing degrees. Marcus is seemingly the ‘brains’ of the band’s operation as he explained that “you’ve got to stand out nowadays” and that social media has been an important “new step” in their development.
As our comfortable conversation continued, I wanted to ask Louella a question that had been nagging at me, especially during their latest gig at the Oxford Art Factory. I wanted to hear her experience as a woman in the music industry, infamously known as a ‘boys’ club’. Unfortunately, Louella affirms my assumptions, noting she’s “usually the only girl in the room” and regularly experiences “blatant sexism” from “tech guys and other boys from bands who assume you know nothing.” Louella further expressed her frustration with people constantly gendering her drumming, seething that she’s “sick of people implying that I’m ‘good’ for a girl.” This frustration, I feel, is universal for women in this particular industry, as our art is continuously downplayed and mocked by men. My question had dawned a certain reality onto the boys, leaving them thankfully frustrated by Louella’s treatment from what they supposedly call’ home’. However, having women like Louella, who outwardly resist and disrupt the malignant ‘norm’ that the ‘boys club’ spreads, provides hope for future female artists, allowing their desired ‘home’ to be just as welcoming to them as their male counterparts.
My next question continued to shove reality into their space, as I asked about the current state of the music industry (over the past four months a string of festivals have been cancelled). Louis replied with earnest hope that the cancellations are a “statement” for audiences “to support artists”. Whilst, Marcus, economic as ever, stated that “we’re experiencing the aftermath of COVID-19 where 18-22 year old’s haven’t had the initial exposure to festivals.” I thought this magnetic difference within the band, just from listening to their different answers, makes them worthy for a listen, as it acts as a buoy of difference. This sustained force keeps them afloat in a rather homogenous era of music.
In terms of the future, No Snakes were rather vague on their plans for this year, but Javier did say that “we want to keep the momentum going, and releasing new music is a sure way to do that”. This rather conclusive statement gave the band the ‘go’ to begin the ‘GroundHog Day’ process of packing away their instruments, and the excuse to throw away the Chicken Crimpy box that had been staring me down throughout our wandering conversation.
As we left their rehearsal space and stood outside, I was reminded of the puddled gravel and rusty gates that had remained outside their comfortable universe for the past hour, a universe that no longer felt alien, but instead felt known and understood. I, now, understand No Snakes to be a band that we all need in our lives. They are hopeful, colourful and exciting, a necessity in surviving the 21st-century blues.