the partae

Opening for Peter Doherty for two years must have been a formative experience. What did that period on the road teach you about performing and shaping your own identity as an artist?

It was an incredible experience to have the opportunity to follow Peter Doherty on three different tours. When I was a teenager, with The Libertines and Babyshambles, he was one of the artists who made me want to make music. So it was something quite crazy and emotional.

As a musician, it was a chance to play venues on a scale I’d never experienced before, to discover cities and life on a tour bus. It’s also a baptism of fire — seeing whether you’re capable of rising to the level of those kinds of shows. It’s not always a gentle exercise either, because people aren’t there for you. But since the ’70s, when Iggy Pop used to say he had to dodge glasses being thrown at his face, audiences might be a bit kinder.

It’s also the chance to actually be listened to and to meet an audience through something much more authentic than an Instagram reel. You don’t forget a concert.

Your sound sits in an interesting space where sharp guitars, pop instincts and electronic textures all meet. How did that blend evolve when you were writing the KARMA EP?

My first sensitivity, my first real encounter with music, was British and American rock from the 2000s — what people called the “rock revival.” But at some point I started working on my own after my teenage bands split up.

Through making music on a computer and becoming a sort of bedroom producer, I inevitably moved into electronic music, through bridges like LCD Soundsystem, the music of Manchester (Factory Records and all that), and probably also a very French heritage from the French Touch — a certain sense of melody.

So when we recorded Karma, it all happened quite naturally. It had already started with my first EP. With Thomas Sega, who I’ve worked with forever, it all came together very organically.

There’s a sense of attitude and humour running through the lyrics, with sarcasm and surreal touches popping up in unexpected places. Where do those lyrical ideas tend to come from when you’re writing?

I don’t really know where it comes from, or even exactly what I’m talking about. And that’s what I like about music and poetry — that everyone can interpret it and be moved by it in their own way.

Still, I tend to aim for very simple and sincere writing, but that’s actually the hardest thing to do. Maybe the sarcasm is there to balance it out. It could apply to the name LAMOUR itself — it’s so cliché and sincere that it could be taken as a joke, but it’s actually completely straightforward.

The project carries a crooner-like vocal presence but with a kind of restless punk energy underneath. Was that contrast something you were consciously leaning into, or did it happen naturally while recording?

I smoke a lot of cigarettes — they say that’s the secret of crooners. The punk energy is always there. The studio sometimes makes it fade a little, but live it often comes back full force. People are often surprised at gigs when it suddenly reappears at full speed.

Factory Records and Rough Trade-era sounds are often referenced in conversations around your music. What is it about that era that continues to inspire the way you approach songwriting today?

Yes, it’s a scene I listened to a lot when I started LAMOUR — the Madchester music, CBGB punk and Detroit house, a kind of slightly absurd meeting of genres. But for me, Manchester is really the birthplace of that strange encounter.

There’s also a connection with Brussels, the city where I live now, with its 303 days of rain a year — a kind of twin feeling of idleness and melancholy.

With KARMA being your second EP, did the creative process feel different this time around compared to your earlier material?

Yes. With Thomas Sega, my longtime studio partner, we recorded at Principauté Records in Paris and we left much more space for improvisation, for surprise, for mistakes and for working together. I allowed more room for things to happen rather than controlling everything.

There’s a strong sense of atmosphere across the project. When you’re building a song, do you start with the sonic mood first, or does everything grow out of a lyrical idea?

It really depends — there’s no rule. Sometimes the sound comes first and we’ll put down a kind of improvised “gibberish” vocal over it and maybe even keep it that way, and the meaning will come later. Other times it starts from a text with a guitar.

But more and more I try to start from an emotion, and then place it inside an atmosphere — a kind of musical landscape you can dive into.

The character of LAMOUR feels quite cinematic — almost like a persona stepping into the spotlight. How much of that is a deliberate artistic character versus simply an extension of yourself?

In the visual universe we developed with Jeff Essoki, who directed the Karma video, and Gabriel Odolczyk, the photographer who shot the cover and the images for the EP, we wanted to highlight themes of wandering, misfortune and a kind of search for oneself.

That’s why there’s this character in an oversized working-man suit suddenly standing in the middle of the sea in the Karma video, or dancing in fields. What is he doing there?

There’s a sense of escape — he doesn’t belong in this corporate world that doesn’t suit him. Karma brought him there, in the middle of nowhere, in the vastness of the water, which is also a place of dreams, of before birth.

For some people it might look like bad karma, but it can also be seen as liberation. It’s still better than being stuck in a fucking open space.

When listeners press play on KARMA, what kind of emotional journey do you hope they move through across the EP?

A kind of wandering, a daydream. Sometimes a bit melancholic but also sunny. I hope it inspires people.

Looking forward, do you see LAMOUR continuing to explore this blend of pop, rock and electronic influences, or are there new directions already starting to pull you somewhere unexpected?

Yes, I think that’s the core matrix of the project. But the next record will be the debut album and I’d like to make a rock album — well, the way a French person would make a rock album.

And often when I start moving in a certain direction, by the time I arrive somewhere it’s actually very far from what I originally announced.

INSTAGRAM

Very delighted to have you guys featured on the site with this interview. Before we jump into it, would you be so kind as to introduce yourself and what you do in the band?

Thanks for having us. This is Caleb here — I’m on the drums in Nautical Mile.

Would you please provide a little context about the band — where you’re from, your origin story, etc.?

Nautical Mile surfaced in 2016, based in Perth, Western Australia. Our music might be described as an amalgamation of post-hardcore to pop punk, with heavier elements instrumentally and predominantly clean vocals up front. We’ve released various singles, including our debut album The Only Way Is Through in 2019, with several follow-up tracks since. Some memorable acts we’ve supported over the years include Hellions, Senses Fail, Trophy Eyes, Hawthorne Heights and Hands Like Houses. We’re finally back for another round after close to four years’ hiatus and excited to get back to business.

Who would you say are the primary influences that inform the sound of the band?

Across the board, bands including A Day To Remember, Bring Me The Horizon, Good Charlotte, Blink-182, Sum 41, Beartooth and The Story So Far would be a good start, along with several more. These are all bands we grew up listening to and they bring back a lot of memories from those times. Most of them are still active today, which is impressive.

What about yourself personally — one and the same, or are there some others that might be unique to you?

The bands listed resonate on my end as well. The only additions would be some of the big names on the drums like Luke Holland, Thomas Lang and Dan Searle, to name a few.

So you’re coming back from a hiatus with the new single “Daydreamer.” What can listeners who haven’t heard it yet expect? What themes does the track explore?

Daydreamer is a song that we had written right before we took our extended break. When we got back together and started jamming again in 2024, we felt it was the perfect track to bring us back. The song reflects on reminiscing about better days before the stresses and strains of adult life start to take over. During the time away we all had quite a lot happening in our lives, so returning to the band felt like recapturing the spirit of those happier times. There are a few quotes mentioned in the track that are non-fictional, but it’s probably best to leave it at that.

The track will make its live debut March 28th when you return to the stage for the first time in four years — what details can you provide about the show?

We’re definitely excited to be back after quite a few years away from it all. The show is happening March 28th at Amplifier Bar in Perth. Pontianak and Belgravia will be joining us for the night. It’s shaping up to be a pop-punk filled evening with a breakdown here and there to round things out. Tickets are available through Oztix and are on sale now, so if you’re in Perth, do yourself a favour and grab one.

What’s on the docket for the rest of the year?

We’ll be taking things one step at a time this year. Nothing is locked in yet, although we’re keeping the calendar open for the time being. We’ve spent quite a while writing new songs and revisiting older demos that didn’t make the cut previously. It wouldn’t be surprising if we end up back in the studio to record some of these.

This is a new chapter for the band, but looking back, what were the pre-hiatus highlights you remember fondly, and what made you want to return?

There’s a hefty catalogue of memories from the good old days. Some of the touring on the east coast up until COVID cut things short is definitely up there. This included sleeping in five-star hotels, which quickly turned into sleeping on the floors of friends’ apartments after we realised that’s not really how you tour and our finances paid the price. We also climbed Mt Kosciuszko on a day off between Melbourne and Sydney, got caught in a storm and returned covered in bruises from the amount of hail that came down. At the time it didn’t feel great, but looking back it’s actually pretty funny.

The best memories though would have to be playing to new faces every night while touring. That part never gets old. We met some amazing people along the way who we’re still friends with today, people we likely never would have crossed paths with otherwise.

Thanks so much for taking the time to answer my questions. Any last words for the reader?

Thanks again for having us on board. And if you’re in Perth, hopefully we’ll see you on March 28th at Amplifier.

How did the long period away from releasing music reshape the way you think about Strange Fruit as a band, both creatively and personally?

Baldi: Throughout our hiatus, it’s not like we stopped making music. Irza and I kept writing songs and exploring sounds we wanted to shape into the Strange Fruit identity. The process took a long time because we each had our own things going on, but that didn’t mean the music ever stopped.

For me personally, the hiatus turned into a kind of spiritual journey back to the band. Getting to where we are now required a long process. We’ve always wanted to give the best quality from Strange Fruit, and we truly believe quality takes time. It took us a while because we weren’t fully confident in the material until it was completely finished.

Over those 10 years, we actually drafted two albums. The challenge was that we were never fully satisfied, so we kept rerecording and refining. Eventually, that process led us to the material for the Drips EP, and to discovering our new sonic identity. We finally found the sound that truly feels like us as a band.

Irza: Took a bit to find space for everything — digital pulses, analogue bits, and that grey area in between. Didn’t quite line up at first.

We let it all collapse into itself: Moog Grandmother and Erica Synth’s Delay & LXR, cold TR8’, scattered CR-78, and 808 percussion, drifting guitars hanging in the dark.

Mad thing is, sometimes you land on a sound that’s proper on tune’s there, then next go it’s gone. Can’t get it back the same.

But it all comes together into something hypnotic, strange, and oddly “santai”.

A lot happened during the hiatus. We needed to step back, breathe for a moment, and return to the same room, just to see what was still there.

John: But it’s not only about music and sounds, I think this process has given us an opportunity to be more solid in our friendship and collaboration.

When you look back at your earlier shoegaze-driven work, what felt limiting about that version of the band, and what finally unlocked the shift toward this more electronic, rhythmic sound?

Baldi: Wherever Irza and I go, or whatever music we’re listening to, it somehow always leads us back to shoegaze. That will probably always be our main reference point. If it ever felt limiting, it wasn’t really the genre itself—it was more about us feeling bored or stuck with our songwriting.

Before Drips, when we were recording the two albums I mentioned earlier, everything was built around the guitar. The guitar was the foundation of our sound. But over time it started to feel a bit stagnant, like we weren’t really growing or exploring new sounds.

During our hiatus, I was working at a record store around 2015. I met a lot of people there and got exposed to more electronic music. I started listening to it more seriously, and it really opened up my perspective. That’s when I began thinking that Strange Fruit could grow further if we started adding electronic elements. Those sounds brought a different kind of richness and depth that we couldn’t get from guitar alone. I felt that if we kept relying on guitar as the main base for writing, we might not develop much further.

Bands like Broadcast, Kraftwerk, Silver Apples, Stereolab, CAN, Primal Scream, and LCD Soundsystem were big inspirations for us. Watching them perform surrounded by synthesizers—and hearing how huge and powerful the sound could be—made us want to try something similar with Strange Fruit. Since then, we’ve been exploring, collecting synths, and experimenting with drum machines.

Irza: Honestly, I don’t think we’re quite there yet. Maybe we’ve found the key, but the door’s still locked. Might open up with the next batch of tracks for the LP — or maybe through something a bit more spontaneous, like a split EP with artists from different corners of the world.

For me it’s always been about connecting through music. That’s the real thing, innit. That’s partly how “Iridescent” ended up leaning into the Madchester sound.

But I’ve chucked in a bit of Mort Garson’s cosmic Moog energy, a bit of Neu!’s motorik pulse sometimes. Still, none of it would’ve come together without Baldi, Nabil, John, and Dino. That’s the real key, to be honest. Haha.

Sometimes I wonder if there’s a ceiling to this whole electronic thing in the future. Might just end up nicking a proper high-end futuristic AI limiter software and call it a day. So where’s the line, then? Part of the game, I suppose.

John: Electronic tones and rhythm have limitless sounds, so when we shift towards electronic based music we found our new identity but still preserving our guitar driven past with a new nuance.

“Iridescent” has been described as spiritual and healing — was that feeling something you consciously set out to capture, or did it reveal itself as the track came together?

Baldi: It all happened pretty naturally. Irza first drafted the song back in 2020. We tried to finish it soon after, but we got stuck and eventually left it unfinished. That’s kind of been one of this band’s weaknesses—when we hit a wall with a song, we tend to move on instead of pushing through and finishing it.

Eventually, we decided to record it with our producer, Bernardus Fritz. Fun fact: we had actually recorded demos for a completely different album with him—eight songs in total. The demos were done, and we only needed to finish them in the studio. But in the middle of that process, we started doubting the material again and lost confidence in those eight songs.

So I went back and opened our old drafts, including Iridescent. I listened to everything again, re-curated the songs, and picked the ones that felt worth developing further. In 2024, we began working on what would eventually become the material for our Drips EP. As we continued, we slowly regained confidence in our sound. What we had been imagining for years finally started to take shape.

For Iridescent, we finished the music first and wrote the lyrics afterward. Once the music was done, the phrase that came to mind was “radiant colours.” To me, the song feels spiritual and healing, because the lyrics reflect what we’ve gone through as a band over the past ten years. In a way, telling that story feels healing.

Irza: It was during Covid, so everything was locked down and I ended up spending most of the time stuck in the studio. No festivals, no raves, no cinema — nothing really moving. It felt a bit numb.

But in a strange way we were lucky. We still had our little virtual world, and out of that a different kind of creativity started to appear. I needed some sort of refreshment, so “Iridescent” came out of that odd moment. I’d never really worked like that before — it’s usually an in-the-room process — but somehow the music still found its way.

It was written in a bit of a depressive haze, but with small bits of hope stitched into it. Almost like moving through a modern kind of plague-era mood — dark, uncertain, but still pushing forward.

A lot of Drips EP feels built around movement and repetition rather than traditional song structures. What draws you to that hypnotic approach right now?

Baldi: Consciously or not, it may stem from the fact that I’m also a DJ—someone who spends a lot of time listening to quite repetitive dance music. I’ve been particularly inspired by Andrew Weatherall, especially his slower-tempo sets. For me, repetition carries a strong hypnotic quality. When an arrangement is crafted carefully, repetition doesn’t have to feel monotonous; it can become immersive and powerful.

That said, this album wasn’t intentionally conceptualised around repetition. It’s simply a reflection of the way I naturally write, which may be influenced by the amount of dance music I listen to. I don’t see repetition as a limitation in songwriting; when used thoughtfully, it can be incredibly engaging. Every piece of music has its own character, and as long as it’s shaped with care, repetition can create a hypnotic effect—something I feel very comfortable embracing.

Irza: The first time I heard Kraftwerk’s “Autobahn”, something just locked in — that steady 4/4 pulse, the endless motorik motion. A rhythm that doesn’t really go anywhere, it just keeps moving forward. I’ve always had a soft spot for that sort of mechanical repetition.

I live a bit outside the centre, so driving becomes part of the routine. After a while I started thinking about writing something specifically for that space — the road, the hum of the engine, that constant forward momentum. That’s where “Pouvoir Moteur” came from. It roughly translates to “motor power”, or the idea of a motorik engine quietly starting up.

The track is really about movement — how an engine ignites, gathers rhythm, and settles into its own pulse. That moment when the machine stops being just a machine and starts feeling almost alive.

Whether the engine actually wakes up… we’ll see. Maybe it’s already buried somewhere in someone’s files. Or maybe that’s just me nonsense.

John: It’s not a coincidence at all. Baldi and Irza, the main composers, came from an electronic music scene. Both of them are DJ’ing and also producing modular tracks, and these types of music are usually based on loops and repetition, escalating through different variations of fills and movements through the notes and grooves. That’s why our music sounds repetitive.

How did living in Jakarta shape the sonic world of Drips — do you feel this EP reflects a more urban, contemporary version of the city than your earlier releases?

Baldi: This EP may not directly reflect what it feels like to live in Jakarta. However, consciously or not, the fact that we live here—a city that is loud, chaotic, and densely crowded—likely seeps into Strange Fruit’s sound. You can sense it in the layers, in the noise, and in the way the band’s textures come together. At the same time, there is a certain irony within the music and the lyrics.

Many of Strange Fruit’s songs sound melodically “sweet,” with arrangements that don’t immediately suggest tension or anxiety. Yet if you listen closely to the lyrics, much of them revolve around feelings of restlessness and unease. That contrast probably reflects the environment around us in Jakarta—the relentless traffic, the fast pace of the city, and the broader political climate.

So even if it wasn’t a deliberate intention, the city inevitably influences this release. Jakarta can be a harsh place to live, and that reality naturally finds its way into the music.

Irza: It’s a bit of a reflection of a huge metropolis — massive population, plenty of chaos, and, well, corruption woven into it. But at the same time the music scene in Jakarta has been growing incredibly fast, and in a really exciting way.

There’s so much energy coming out of the city right now — new bands, new sounds, people constantly experimenting. It’s honestly one of the most vibrant scenes around.

A couple of great Jakarta bands even played our showcase recently — Crayola Eyes and Negative Lovers — both well worth checking out.

What’s even more exciting is what’s happening outside the city. Across the islands of Nusantara there’s a massive underground movement bubbling away — bands, collectives, small gigs popping up everywhere. It’s been brilliant to watch it grow.

So we figured it was time to step things up a bit. Try writing tracks we’d never really attempted before.

John: Yes it does, because people (mostly that are close to me) are listening to various kinds of music here, and it shapes how we made the music. The electronic elements that we use do reflect on how the city flows.

Each of the remixers brings a very distinct energy. What were you hoping Sean Johnston, Tom Furse, and Jonathan Kusuma would uncover or transform in your original tracks?

Baldi: It goes without saying that I’m a fan of each of the artists who contributed remixes. I’ve been listening to their original work for quite some time, so when we reached out and agreed to collaborate on these remixes, I felt there was really nothing to lose. I was confident the results would exceed my expectations and certainly wouldn’t disappoint.

To be honest, I didn’t approach the process with very specific expectations. I simply trusted that they would do a great job.

What made the experience even more rewarding was that, when we first approached them, they genuinely connected with our material. Knowing that they already appreciated the original tracks gave me confidence that whatever they created would be thoughtful and compelling.

Irza: I’ve been listening to The Horrors since their first record. I saw them at Laneway Festival in Singapore, and when they played “Sea Within a Sea”, hearing Tom Furse’s arpeggiator live was unforgettable — easily one of the best synth arps around.

So having Tom add his touch to “Monopolar”, weaving those sequences with a bit of breakbeat energy and those low-ends, it feels great, “Feels like you in my machine..” just like Baldi said, lol. Anyway, it’s been a real honour.

Those two Hardway Bros remixes felt like the perfect way to close the whole thing — playing with an SLA console must be amazing, with a completely different take on the 303s and drum machines.

John: We would like to see how the music unfolds through their perspective and we do hope that it could bring more colours from how our music sounds.

Jonathan Kusuma’s Hypnodubmix strips “Iridescent” down to something slower and heavier. How did it feel hearing your own song reinterpreted in such a minimal, almost meditative way?

Baldi: When he first sent over the remix, I listened to it and we ended up having a pretty long phone call afterward. I really liked what he did with it. I even told him, “Jon, I love this remix—I’ve never heard your drums sound like this before.” The first thing that stood out to me was how raw the drums felt. His version is called the Hypnodubmix, and to me it really feels meditative, like his own interpretation of that headspace.

What’s interesting is that, compared to the other two remixes, this one is actually the most danceable and groovy, while the others are slower and sit at a lower tempo. At one point he asked me what the song was really about, and I told him it deals with a kind of anxiety we both feel, especially about the current state of the world. Once we talked about that, everything made even more sense—his sound and the meaning behind the song really lined up, and you can hear that same sense of anxiousness in the remix.

Irza: Jonathan Kusuma’s version is another favourite of mine — he turns everything into something hypnotic. The way he processes each element, pushing the tempo and chopping Baldi’s vocals into a single piece, is brilliant. Massive respect to him.

After stepping away for so long, was there any pressure to “come back strong,” or did you give yourselves permission to simply follow instinct?

Irza: It’s not a comeback. It’s an arrival. Where it goes next depends on the departure — we’ll find our way soon enough.

John: Of course there are doubts and insecurity when we start to write again after stepping away for so long. Even the process of recording that we took is long enough to create doubt, but this doubt and insecurity does sharpen how we sound and how we elaborate.

Looking ahead to the mini-album planned for 2026, do you see Drips EP as a bridge from your past, or the foundation of something entirely new?

Baldi: We’re definitely building something new sonically—something that feels more forward-looking. For the foreseeable future, we’ll be focused on writing and continuing to develop this direction. We’re already working on another album planned for 2027, so Drips really serves as a bridge into the new sound of Strange Fruit and the material we’re creating now. In that sense, it’s less about looking back and more about moving forward.

Irza: I already wrote some demos. We’ll see what happens next.

John: The emotion and attitude is still the same, but how the repertoire sounds is far sharper now and very different from what we made in the past, so I personally think that our new music is a foundation of something entirely new.