My conversation with Eoin French is a torrent of ideas, leading us in the direction of James Joyce, Pablo Neruda, Ted Hughes and beyond. Suffice to say, French is one of the most interesting musicians I’ve had the pleasure of talking to.
“When I started all this,” he tells me, “I always had it in my head that I wanted to
make an album. But there was always teething issues that got in the way before I was able to sit down and have the space to make a body of work. Once I got the chance, I really grabbed it.”
It was a long time in the pipeline, maybe, but before Wild Alee was released, Eoin galvanised interest with a string of singles and EPs possessing an incredibly exciting new sound. With his debut album, French positioned himself alongside the likes of James Blake, Bon Iver and Alt-J. Every song feels mined from the depths of the soul, and finessed to a gleaming perfection. It begs the question, just what happened during the two-and-a-half year gestation?
“It began with me sitting down and writing in a very basic manner,” recalls Eoin. “By that I mean just me and a piano. I was slowly learning how to put stuff together and how to produce sounds that I knew were going to be on the record. That was huge – trying to find the sonic texture that I felt comfortable with before I brought it to anyone else.”
There’s something in the atmosphere of these soundscapes, in the lyrics themselves, and in the name ‘Talos’ (derived from ancient Greek mythology), that makes French’s music quite enigmatic. Was that part of the intention?
“I suppose there was a big challenge to say, ‘How do I make something interesting and out of the normal?’
Something that doesn’t say, ‘We’re living an everyday normal life.’ I was conjuring something up – like alchemy – and that’s what began to excite me.”
Even on the first listen to Wild Alee, recurring motifs of islands, water, moonlight and the epic journey jump out. It’s an album that demands to be played repeatedly.
“Imagery is the main thing,” Eoin explains. “I’d always say that, because that’s how I enjoy films even. In films, the music would do more for me than what I’m seeing. So when I listen to and make music, it’s always attached to a visual marker.”
Does that transfer beyond the lyrics to the sounds?
“100%. Even in the less structured tracks – the ones which are breaks to the format of the album – I’m always thinking about the visual. The songs are attached to the places that they’re written in. For example, ‘Wetlands’ is probably the most visual, and it was written when I spent time in Iceland. I want these songs to conjure up direct images.”
Matt Berninger – who Eoin cites as a major influence – does a similar thing.
“He’s the master. He’s definitely one of my biggest influences lyrically. He said that lyrics are 75% heart, 25% concentration, and 5% nonsense. I love that. Some of what he sings sounds completely random, surrealist almost. It comes out of nowhere but leaves this imprint of an image. Music’s one of the few places you can get away with talking nonsense. Sometimes you’re just working on a rhythmic thing, or a melodic thing, and the lyrics – and the meaning – become secondary. It’s more about what it makes you feel.”
In terms of live performance, Eoin has finally nailed down his preferred approach.
“I’ve made it work in the last six months,” he says. “We’ve expanded into a six-piece outfit which means it’s less about me and more about the music. That’s what’s working for us. It took so long to get this right because I want the live performances to have a lot of joy, whereas the actual writing itself is strenuous. To get to that point where it’s right, you have to accept that the songs aren’t yours anymore, they belong to the people who are helping you perform and to the listeners themselves.”