The Shortlist: Wayward | whynow
Published by whynow.co.uk, May 2021
Interview and playlist series curated by moi.
Louis Greenwood and Lawrence Hayes’ debut album Waiting For The World is a sonic whirlwind of euphoric nostalgia that nails the current emotional zeitgeist. In this interview, they lament on past, future and all the messiness in between, while talking us through the process of creating tunes guaranteed to send us deliriously back to dancefloors.
Like everyone, I’ve spent a lot of time staring out rain soaked windows this past year, some of it contemplating the names of Jacob Rees-Mogg’s kids, the rest fantasising about the end of lockdown. Because at some point, we’ve all wanted to transcend the current realm, swapping the mundanity for a chance to relive past glories, or better yet, imagined futures. The Welsh have a word for this kind of longing, they call it hiraeth, and it relates to a particular sense of desire or regret, often for a person or place that no longer exists, or sometimes, that never did in the first place. It’s a feeling we sometimes get when change beckons and it resonates deeply, right down in our belly and bones.
Similar sensations are conjured by music that teeters on the tightrope between euphoria and melancholy. You know the kind — the tunes that make you want to skip along the pavement punching the air but minutes later a tear’s bouncing off your cheek.
It’s pleasure that arises alongside a strange sort of pain, and it’s this taste of bittersweetness that Wayward encapsulate with their debut album, Waiting For The World. Intentionally or not, the London duo nail the current emotional zeitgeist, and the result is an electrifying ride that bodes well for future dancefloor escapades.
We get into the nitty gritty of Louis Greenwood and Lawrence Hayes’ debut over Zoom, on one of those quintessential spring days when the papery shells of daffodil stems are bashed mercilessly by icy cold winds but the sky is a clear sheet of scintillating blue. They sit side by side on the sofa in the living room they share, laughing easily and often mirroring each other’s thoughts. In better days they seem like the kind of guys who’d invite everyone back to theirs for the afters. “The album would never have happened if it wasn’t for lockdown,” Louis begins, contradicting widely held beliefs that the last 12 months have been an unsalvageable quagmire. “We had all these ideas but we didn’t know how to piece them together, so having space and time meant that we were able to sit down and get through it all.”
In fact, the album has been in the making for a few years, inspired by a kaleidoscope of cross-city experiences collected along the way. But despite travel’s ability to inspire, it was being static that eventually turned ambition into reality. “The idea of making an album is something we’ve wanted to do ever since we started making music together,” Louis continues. “But we wanted it to be cohesive — something that can be listened to from start to finish, even if it does span lots of genres.”
The desire to get it absolutely spot on stems from the pair’s first foray into music a decade ago. Friends since secondary school (despite an initial emo-indie divide), they first worked together at university in Leeds where they made a name for themselves DJing and running a series of parties that featured Benji B, DJ EZ and Gilles Peterson on the lineups. Off the back of this success, they released ‘Only Flaw’ and in a surprise to them both, it blew up, drawing equal parts airplay and praise.
On the face of it they’d struck gold, but the subsequent pressure to mimic the same formula in future productions proved a banal prospect at best. “We made one tune and then had this expectation to create similar stuff,” Louis explains. “It was amazing but it led us down a path that we hadn’t decided to go down at that point.”
Essentially, they dipped a toe into the commercial machine but whipped it out sharpish, so the next 10 years were spent figuring out who they were and what they wanted to create, building the confidence needed to make an impact on the industry but on their own terms. The perseverance paid off, not only in growing statures as producers for other artists but also in the conception of their own sound. Waiting For The World flutters between genres, from electronica and breaks to techno and d’n’b, but it’s all tied together by a distinctly Wayward thread, a hint of otherworldliness almost, like the feeling you get driving away from a really good sunset and watching the road snake behind you in the rear view mirror.
“A lot of the tracks are named after places, friends and family,” Lawrence explains. “So they all bring back lots of memories and those feelings of nostalgia that you can’t really explain.” Anyone listening won’t be surprised that Burial’s Untrue was a big influence, with tunes summoning a similar sort of sombre rapture, but they also shine with enough idiosyncrasies to make them unique. ‘All A Bit Mad’ samples Ezra Collective drummer, Femi Koleoso, at the last gig the guys went to before lockdown, for instance, while ‘Back To The Old Days’ features a former student of WAC Arts College, where both Louis and Lawrence used to teach.
Making space for the next generation is something that’s always been important to them both, but it’s become even more resonant in the past year, and they speak about the subject with intensity and vigour. “A lot of kids get kicked out of mainstream school because it doesn’t work for them and because of that they don’t have confidence in themselves or their abilities,” says Lawrence. “But one person coming in and telling someone that that they’re good at something can change the course of their life.” Louis nods along in agreement. “There’s so much restriction for kids from disadvantaged backgrounds and that leads to loads of young people feeling like ‘I can’t do this’,” he says. “So everyday when I teach I’m trying to show them that they can succeed.”
It feels impossible to discuss anything related to music and the arts at the moment without the conversation naturally gravitating towards UK government policy, and before long, we’re making an unstoppable beeline for it. “It angers me so much that money’s been taken from community led projects because they’re so important for young people,” says Lawrence, whose belief that music and politics feed into each other is unwavering.
“I think it’s important to speak about what you believe in and for me personally, the artists that do are the ones who are the most inspiring.” Louis feels the same: “Apathy is the scariest thing,” he says. “It’s clear just from this conversation about entry points into music that it’s all wrapped up in politics, it’s all intertwined.”
It’s undeniable that without a clearly defined future, it’s easier to lament the past — that feels truer than ever as we emerge into new territory post pandemic. But perhaps it’s in the unknowability of what’s to come that we find space to create anew. We mourn what was — what could have been, even — but we also hope, and in that overlapping cross section ideas and action blossom. “In life, there are ups and downs and they always come one after the other,” laughs Louis. “Ultimately, you can’t reach euphoria without the lows. They exist in yin and yang.”
Waiting For The World reminds us of the fact, and in doing so washes away thoughts of past and future and roots us firmly in the present. What better place to begin again than there?
