The Zoom screen crackled under the weight of awkward small talk. Seamus, the lead singer, explained their band’s origin story; he met Olly, the rhythm guitarist, and Paddy at school. Soon, they found Sophie through Seamus’ uncle. I am not going to lie, I was hoping for greater depth into their history, an expedition into the nitty-gritty or some inspired statement into why they decided to join. Instead, whether purposeful or not, I received a rather vague statement that left me with nothing to cling to.
Sophie emphasised that they want their sound “to be entertaining” and “to keep it punchy”. No other song gives such a punch than the first single of their latest rollout; ‘Watching Paint Dry’. Though using colour in lyrics to represent human emotion is nothing new, “the wall of sound” produced by Sophie’s determined drumming and Seamus and Paddy’s gutsy vocals make for an immensely enjoyable listen.
The discussion of sound fed into my next question about their songwriting process. From what I understood, Seamus is essentially the sole songwriter and brings his drafts to rehearsal—like a typical corporate pitch. Sophie added some much-needed detail, “they [the songs] often get faster when they come to the band because at first they’re more of a ballad.” The group all agree the songs “start as just gibberish”, Seamus justified this as “I get really fixated on a phrase that doesn’t make sense but I’ll still keep it.” An example? “She’s got them lemons and them jeans”.
Though perfection is an illusion, Seamus “tries to do the best for the song” by “challenging the form up until its mastering” leaving the rest of the group “to be stressed”. The dedication and passion for their art is undeniable and radiates through all their latest singles, particularly ‘Margaret’.
Seamus began writing ‘Margaret’ in September 2023 after realising the band “needed a song kind of like this” of unadulterated frivolity that used ‘Neil Diamond-y acoustic progressions” with “silly lyrics over it.” The lyrics seem to be designed as soundbites; lines like “living in a villa rent-free” are easily TikTok-able. As usual, the song went through significant redrafting with Seamus’ younger brother helping out with the bridge by using his “teenage perspective” of unrequited love. It is nothing revolutionary. But that is not the point of ‘Margaret’. The point is, is that it is a fun and catchy distraction from our cumbersome reality in its love-sick tropes and propelling acoustics.
The release of ‘Margaret’ marked the time when the band took full advantage of reels and Cap-cut to promote. At times the notion of marketing can be rather daunting, particularly the idea of being perceived by strangers, Seamus approached the process, as usual, with optimism, “I’m trying not to take it so seriously” and “find the fun aspects of it”. The actual reels are self-referential and self-aware which Sophie reasoned, “I’m not very good at trying to be cool, and we just leaned away from that in the videos.” This emphasis on reels-based marketing is such a sign of the times of an industry obsessed with numbers, rather than the listenable art itself. In saying this, Sophie revealed that “it [reel])takes so much of our time, more than rehearsals.” But it works. They attribute their phenomenal turnout at the Metro in June to their social media promotion.
The band’s branding further benefits from Jordy Finlay’s (Teenage Dads) contributions to their last three singles’ cover art. The designs are a pastiche of sixties iconography and animated colour — reassuring a possible Spotify wanderer that they’re worthy of a listen. Sophie echoed this point, saying that “people do judge a book by its cover” and that “we’re working on our visual appeal as a band.” And it is seemingly working.
The quality of Darling Street’s music lies within their production of songs such as ‘Miss Faraway’, aided by Jess Dess at Studio 31. The single’s pining narrative relies upon Seamus’ eighties-inspired synths. It is a refreshing palate cleanser from the often muggy claustrophobia of Sydney scene’s indie rock obsession. However, I will say the “on and on” arrangement in the chorus sounds similar to Journey’s ‘Don’t Stop Believin’’, whether a homage or not, it does provide nostalgic air to the single. Paddy later mentioned that the single attempts to embody a “soaring feeling” with its falsetto.
Concerning Darling Street’s judgement of the current Sydney scene’s state: there is a significant lack of free venues and the fixation on Spotify listeners rather than substance. Unlike Melbourne, which Darling Street noted, Sydney fails to have a ‘rocking up’ culture that relieves ticket sales pressure and encourages organic turnouts. In tandem with Darling Street expressing their hope for the future; “to get past this phase of dragging people to gigs” Zoom’s one-minute warning began flashing, and our brief discussion concluded.
Darling Street harnesses a unique theatricality on stage and a never-ending energy that directly juts against the typical scene aesthetic — I’m excited to see where they go next.
