Jack Brown is surrounded by an overcast sky, a grey haze seems to follow him wherever he goes, but like every other Londoner before him, it is something he’s come to embrace.
“We have a really great musical heritage here, it is remote and the weather is kind of shit,” Brown said. “It is kind of a dark place and that definitely helps breed creativity.”
Brown is one third of Britain’s newest It band, White Lies, whose sprawling post-punk reverb and brooding cynicism have earned them comparisons to everyone from the Killers to Echo and the Bunnymen, yet it is their uncanny likeness to one band in particular that is the most baffling to him.
“There is a little romance to Joy Division and we can appreciate that,” he said with some trepidation. “We really didn’t know much about the bands from the 80’s until we were compared to them.”
He and his bandmates seemingly exist within a vacuum, a place where time and space intersect, at least that’s the only explanation I have for lead singer Harry McVeigh’s (no relation with Timothy) Ian Curtis-esque baritone that carries with it a lifetime’s worth of loss and regret.
“It really isn’t an issue for us,” Brown said. “It’s only when you are compared to a terrible band that you have to worry.”
Brown himself bears a striking resemblance to another deceased rock legend (The Who’s Keith Moon) and eerily keeps time with the same pulverizing precision, yet at the tender age of 21, the White Lies drummer seems to have a firmer grip on reality than his shag haired predecessor ever did.
“You shouldn’t build your hopes up in the music industry,” he said with startling clarity. “It’s a very fickle place…New bands have to be so careful, because it is so easy to be disposed of.”
It’s this same unwavering pragmatism that seems to guide Brown personally and helps drive the band’s creative identity, as they hover just beneath the precipice of fleeting international acclaim.
“The best way is to not go searching for it, but to have it come find you,” he said. “It’s quite a scary thing to think about, you can get distracted if you look too far ahead.”
Led by standout track “Death”, first album To Lose My Life…, which debuted at number one on the UK charts, challenges a myriad of philosophical quandaries, namely the notion that seldom are things set in stone.
“It is more about being terrified with all the uncertainty in the world,” Brown said. “There are very few things that are fact, so it is trying to come to terms with the idea that you’ll never know.”
A self-described control freak, Brown has only recently taken the reigns of his burgeoning career, by not only creating a support system around him, but even going as far as suggesting a change in direction from their previous pop tinged moniker, Fear of Flying.
“We weren’t really the same people, we had grown up; the songs really weren’t relevant to us anymore,” he said. “We just needed a new vehicle so people could listen without preconceived ideas.”
The cheery British trio will next set their sights on conquering America with an appearance at this year’s Coachella Music Festival, an opportunity they don’t take lightly.
“People forget how much work it takes to break into America, because it is so vast,” Brown said. “The challenge for us is to see how we can keep their attention; they have no obligation to enjoy us at all.”
Brown and company have even considered the modern day parable of the Arctic Monkeys, who gloriously fizzled out in the States, despite overwhelming praise from critics.
“A lot of theirs songs are obviously about a certain place or a certain time, and that place is always in England, which doesn’t translate well,” he said. “[Our] lyrics are fairly universal and broad, a lot more people can relate to it that way.”
Along with the Kaiser Chiefs have come a steady influx of British imports, including the likes of the Arctic Monkeys, the Klaxons, and the Cribs, but White believes this does little to prove that England has taken the forefront in an ever-evolving music landscape.
Collectively, the band follows the creative vision of lead singer Ricky Wilson, who is best known for his frantic stage presence and high energy live performances, which White said is unmatched by any studio recording.