Bastille Offer an Alternative Reality With Give Me The Future
Photos by Sarah Louise Bennett
Any artist proudly patting themselves on the back for what they accomplished during our constrictive coronavirus lockdown—like writing the next great American novel, composing the perfect coda to that unfinished symphony, or even just putting some cathartic paint to several beckoning canvases—should compare notes with Bastille bandleader Dan Smith sometime. This British Renaissance man stayed so whirling-dervish busy, even the most ambitious achievements of other folks pale in comparison. And where some saw darkness, he saw nothing but the light of constant inspiration. “So it was a really nice time for me, in a way, despite the bizarreness of everything,” recalls the singer, still amazed that his flurry of activity led straight to his band’s most thoughtful, fully realized new concept album, Give Me the Future. “It was good to have some time back, away from touring, and even though we were locked in our homes and everything was terrifying and completely fucked up, it did buy back some time and allow me to make loads of music. We made this album, we made an EP [2020’s Goosebumps, featuring Graham Coxon], we made a documentary [ReOrchestrated] and I made other albums, as well, wrote a couple of other projects, and did a lot of writing for other people. So I got to spend all of my time creating, which was just amazing.”
Guns ’N Roses once ironically warn-welcomed us to “the jungle.” Times have changed. Tapping into prophetic prose from George Orwell, Aldous Huxley and Philp K. Dick, Bastille now employ a 13-song cautionary tale to welcome humanity to the metaverse, which isn’t necessarily an abandon-all-hope-ye-who-enter-here proposition, but it’s damned close. There’s a synth-rippling, almost New Wave undercurrent that’s conversely joyous and optimistic, from the twinkling thumper “Distorted Light Beam,” a bass-bopping “Thelma & Louise” (an homage to the classic flick on its 20th anniversary) and a bubbling “Back to the Future” to a stomping, vocoder-enhanced “Plug In,” a Riz Ahmed spoken-word piece called “Promises,” and the whirring, clanking title track, which—like many Bastille classics—uses a rhythmic layer of backing vocals that’s close to tribal in complexity. Smith and company (drummer Chris “Woody” Wood, keyboardist Kyle Simmons, bassist/guitarist Will Farquarson) even conjured up a dystopian company called Future Inc. and a pleasure-promising VR program dubbed FutureScape, where avatars reign supreme over humdrum, hive-thinking reality.
And if it all feels slightly German-Expressionist cinematic, it’s worth noting that Smith, ever since Bastille’s flickering 2013 debut, Bad Blood, has always been a huge film geek who—in the truest sense of the old showbiz saying—one day hopes to direct. Which leads to the other pursuit that took up every spare minute of his pandemic time: A weekly Bastille film club that started on Instagram, but soon moved to YouTube, wherein a movie screening was complemented by live interviews with said film’s director, star or cinematographer. It kicked off with a showing of a horror-comedy classic all the members agreed on, Shaun of the Dead, with Simon Pegg himself answering questions from film club members. “Who were basically just Bastille fans,” says Smith, who got ahold of Taiki Waititi for a viewing of his Hunt For the Wilderpeople and Tom Tykwer to discuss Run Lola Run. “It forced me to become a live host and a journalist, as well, every week going through hundreds, thousands of questions and thoughts [from viewers], and seeing themes that would come up in the things that people were interested in. And a lot of those films that we featured kind of fed into the album that we ended up making.” And this human dynamo shows no signs of slowing down—Bastille are heading back out on a sprawling spring tour, if Omicron allows it. And if not? Smith knows what to do with any future down time now. It’s just the future itself that he finds so puzzling.
Paste: What other movies got you through lockdown? One of my go-to ones was Eurovision Song Contest: The Story of Fire Saga. It still holds up after over a dozen hilarious viewings.
Dan Smith: Dude! That’s so weird! We had people over for dinner last night, and someone put that soundtrack on! And I hadn’t thought about that film in a while, but I fucking loved it. And I think that through the pandemic, we just wanted distraction, didn’t we? The film club I ran was about traveling from country to country, week by week. I was just watching all the Scream films last week, getting ready to watch Scream 5, and I love re-watching films like Groundhog Day—it never gets old. It just takes you somewhere else, and it’s a real distraction. And I think it’s interesting how Groundhog Day has now become a genre of its own—there are so many movies that play around with repeating time loops, like Palm Springs, Happy Death Day and Happy Death Day 2 U, and hats off to them—they actually did a good job on the Death Day sequel.
Paste: But have you seen Adam McKay’s brilliant, painfully spot-on extinction satire Don’t Look Up on Netflix? I’ve seen it eight times now, and it just gets better with every viewing.
Smith: Yes, I do have Netflix, and I have seen it. But it’s interesting—it got kind of a mixed reaction here, because I think people were maybe not loving the bluntness of the message. But I think that’s the fucking point. It’s a very timely film, and quite hilarious, as well.
Paste: Don’t Look Up—spoiler alert—kind of posits that humanity has no future. So what’s your take on the future? And did you grow up reading science fiction as a kid?
Smith: I was always interested in science fiction, I think. I was never a massive sci-fi nerd, but I loved it. I remember reading 1984, and I loved loads of Margaret Atwood’s books. She played with different dystopias, like in The Blind Assassin, and I like the way she played with pulp sci-fi and popular science fiction. And I think obviously, as a genre, it’s always been really interesting, because it allows us to talk about the society that we live in and the politics of the world, and imagine different versions of the world that we should probably try to avoid. And I think, living in 2022, a lot of the sci-fi of the past? We’ve kind of surpassed it in loads of ways. And some of it we’ve manifested, some of it we’ve proven wrong. So it’s always interesting to see what the creators of the past envisioned now to look like.
And this is a weird example, but I think of Minority Report, and I remember seeing driverless cars and targeted advertising, and touch screens, and they seemed quite far off at the time. But it’s not been that long ago and we made all those things come true, and more. So I dunno. When I was a kid, yeah, it was fascinating to me. And now it’s kind of creepy and surreal to see these different versions of reality, and obviously it can exist in so many different forms. But we just thought that, with the album, it would be interesting to try to think about ways of escaping, and I thought that our current … I dunno. I feel like real life now feels like some kind of bygone science fiction, in a lot of ways, in how intermeshed technology is, pretty much in every corner of life. And in some ways, that’s amazing, but in some ways, it’s fucking terrible. But it’s not enough just to say, “You should spend less time on your phone.” Because that’s unrealistic, and I’d be a hypocrite to say that—it’s about the amazing connective community opportunities that are enabled [by it], but also the horrible device corrupting all of it—it’s both at the same time, and it’s complicated. And also, we’re constantly confronted by the future everyday—we’re watching climate change happen in communities all over the world, and it’s something that we’re forced to think about all the time. And for every negative, we can point to the Gretas of the world [Greta Thunberg, outspoken teen climate change activist] who are working night and day to try and steer things in a slightly less bleak direction. So that’s just the environment in which we made the album, but we also wanted to make a fun, escapist pop record. So we really tried to do a lot.
Paste: Is it scripted like a stage play from track one to 13? Or was it sequenced more playfully?