Desert Hearts release the most beautiful, belligerent music. Just not very often.

As it currently stands, in the 14 years since they first appeared on a Belfast stage, the band (by which I mean Charley Mooney, Roisin Stewart, and a rotating collection of fellow-travellers and true believers) have put out a grand total of two albums.
Some people think this is a failing. Wagging a puritanical finger, they occasionally accuse Desert Hearts of welching on some dispiriting kind of time/motion indie agreement. If you’re going to invoke a work ethic, however, I’d suggest volume of output is less important than the level of craftsmanship. And on this basis – well, they are diligence itself.
Make no mistake: when a Desert Hearts album does comes along, the quality – on the evidence of Let’s Get Worse and Hotsy Totsy Nagasaki – is startling. And let joy be unconfined. New record Enturbulation = No Challenge more than maintains their remarkable run of form.
“People seem to get worked up about the length of time it takes us to release stuff, and I don’t know why,” says Charley over a coffee in Belfast. “The music industry has died over the last 10 years. I’ve given up trying to worry about that side of things. Looking back, I think we were lucky we were actually able to do the traditional thing at one point – sign a deal with Rough Trade, record an album, release it, tour it. That doesn’t happen to anybody anymore. I shouldn’t be focused on any of that stuff. I should only be focused on writing songs.”
Judging by the newie, he’s been applying himself brilliantly. From their earliest incarnation, Desert Hearts have displayed a capacity for grace unmatched by any of their peers. And here – on tracks like ‘Powertrash’ and ‘Oak Mot’ – they’re at it again. Likewise, the noise-monger tendencies that once saw (oddly polite) riots take place at their gigs, can be found in ‘Barebaru’ and ‘Heavy Hangs The Head’. What’s new, however, is the record’s overall tone. They sound comfortable in their skin.
“I’m very at ease with myself now,” Charley nods, “and at ease with where the band is. There was a point when we toned down some of the more extreme elements. The second album is a dark one, but we always knew we could make something that had bigger emotions. We’ve never really written about ourselves – about Charley and Roisin. But the story-telling thing has become a more important part and made it richer.”
With Stuart Bell and Stephen Leacock from the defunct General Fiasco now full-time recruits, Ben McAuley handling production duties, and Jimmy Devlin’s No Dancing acting as their label, there’s a sense of Desert Hearts being at the centre of a protective web spun by people who have grown to love the band over the last decade and a half. People who perhaps (correctly) appreciate that the strange, unpredictable, evolving, revolving story of Desert Hearts is one of the great unfolding sagas in Belfast music.
“There have been bands that have come and gone in the time between our records,” Charley explains. “We’re still here. And I think there’s still an awful lot for us to do. I haven’t listened to the first record in a very long time, but I love those songs. I don’t think I’m any different. I’m still the same. Still fearless.”