Matt-Felix
and the world he walks on top of
Words by Willow Shields, Photographs by Briony Graham-Rudd
I meet Matt-Felix in Brighton in a graveyard near my house, the day is grey and has been whispering of rain since the morning. In company are photographer Briony Graham-Rudd and Meg and Alice from Matt’s team. And as Briony leads Matt around the graveyard and further through the city towards the beach, he seems to glide atop a landscape that he doesn't belong to. Today, hailing from the smoggy capital, one can imagine him seeming truly at home in the grey of concrete and shadowy corners. Like most people who fit into London's jagged grooves and love it so much they stay, Matt is from elsewhere. Born in Southern France and raised in Indonesia Matt will express to me later on record the fondness he holds in his heart for these places where he grew up. We continue to follow Briony’s lead and find ourselves amongst the pebbles and people. Someone walks past us eating an ice cream, and it’s as if we all have the same thought at once. So for the photo opp Matt tries to eat an ice cream. Mr. Whippy with a flake. Then immediately gets swarmed by seagulls, who peck it out of his hand. He and Briony stand on the beach in front of a, frankly, gladiatorial scene of seagulls fighting over the remains of one Mr. Whippy and they cannot hold the bursts of laughter that surprise has reeled out of them. In the following minutes, while walking away from the beach he sighs,“I’m never coming back to Brighton.” I think he’s only half joking. Maybe not at all.
After deciding that the photography portion of the day was over, we start walking a path that so many Brightonians have before, towards (The) Basketmakers (Arms), me and mine being a part of the prior demographic. Deciding on a table outside, we pass Angus of Opus Kink, say hello, sit down a few tables down from him and I begin attempting to interview this man in front of me that I have absolutely no prior knowledge about. Ever the professional journalist. Beginning on the subject of carousels. Since we saw one earlier this day, that Matt snuck onto by running under a chainlink fence soundtracked by blasting stereotypical carousel music. This preceded the seagull/ice cream incident. “Whats your favourite carousel you've been on?” Matt looks both disappointed and taken aback by this question but answers albeit simply against his better nature, “So in France there was this old carousel by a park, which I think I used to go to all the time. I can't really remember it, probably there.” The first in the trilogy of opening silly questions goes down like an anvil off a cliff. I quickly try again. “How do you like Brighton?” He sighs and laughs, then answers “Quite neutral. I'm not in love with it. And I'm not disliking it. I'm enjoying my time having a little pint. It's chill.” Lucky number three coming up: “If you were a crisp, what crisp flavour would you be?” He laughs again, presumably wondering why he’s come down on the train for two hours to be asked about how crisps represent him, but a more hearty laugh and then an answer comes, “Probably black pepper. You know, the Tyrell, or is it Kettle? The black pepper and sea salt. Just classic. [It’s got] a little bit of something. A bit dark.” The following few minutes consist of me stating that I’ve been told he’s moody recently, him questioning this, laughing and saying "I've been in a bad mood recently. Yeah. The question is?” and me feeling like I’m about to vomit. I begin to scramble and ask if he likes art, “I know a little bit, but I couldn't name you this, like, weird Italian painter from the 1600s. Is that the question?” no. Gothic literature, “No. No. Well, no. It's not my world,” it’s a no. Then a light bulb switches and someone more mighty and allknowing has decided to switch my brain back on, “Speaking of worlds.What does your world look like?” I ask, and for the first time in maybe five minutes, Matt is seemingly happy to answer, “I think it's quite eclectic.. Moody. Sometimes dark, sometimes light..” “If there was a snapshot, a landscape of what the world that you're trying to create looks like. Could you describe that for me?” He glances at me and begins to describe the world he walks on top of, “It'd probably be quite thick clouds.” He looks up at the sky beyond the awning we’re under, “Like this, but more defined, so you could see the outline of the clouds. But in the background of it, there would be a sun coming through. And there'd be a very calm ocean and a little boat with a guy with a little lantern.” I ask, “What's the guy's name?” He laughs again but states, “Matt-Felix.” A self portrait, a grand scene not dissimilar from the painting style of the 16th century after all. (See below)
A Shipwreck in Stormy Seas by Claude-Joseph Vernet, 1773
“Where is your favourite sea?” “Mediterranean Sea.” “Why?” “I was born there.” “Born in the sea?” “Born in the south of France” “So what makes it your favourite other than you [being born there]?” “The colour. You know, that turquoise. And the calmness of it. There's not many waves.” We then have a lengthy conversation about surfers and where they do and don't belong, Matt has a dream of his favourite beach - where there are no surfers - “it’s just a calm beach, a little cove. There's not many people there. There's maybe like a nice restaurant where they're doing mussels and clams. You know what I mean?” “Where's your favourite seafood restaurant?” I ask. Briony jokes: “Groupie is a food blog.” Matt laughs and then answers, “It'd probably be somewhere in Italy, in the middle of nowhere. And it's just like it's just someone’s mama, and it's really cheap,” He then stops and asks, “Are you just coming up with these on the fly?” I, obviously, am. “It's like a freestyle rap.” He jokes, I am now convinced we have made friends and this is going to be one of the best interviews I’ve ever done.
It is at this moment that I finally remember that the man sitting opposite me on the tiniest pub table ever made is a musician and has an EP coming out next week, “What has been your favourite moment in making [the EP]? Was there a particular ‘this is it’ moment?” “The name of the EP is ‘Dark Enough To See’, and the song ‘Dark Enough To See’ was a demo that I made maybe in January. And we just needed one more song to finish the EP. I was going through old demos, and I re-found it. I sent it to my management, my band, my fiancée - who I trust with everything - and no one said anything. And I was like, ‘I think this is a really good song,’ but no one…No one replied. Usually when they don't reply, it means that it's, like, ‘throw it away.’ Then I resent it and everyone was like, ‘oh, no, this is beautiful. This should be on it.’ So, then it was and then I named the EP [after it] and it all made sense. That was the moment. That made me excited to do an EP. Opposed to it just being five songs that I've put together. [It] made it feel more like a thing.” I feel genuinely moved and quietly confirm, “like the puzzle pieces coming together.” I find myself enchanted by the musician-ship and have to snap out of it so ask, “Do you do puzzles?” he answers, “I'm really bad at puzzles. I tried one at Christmas and I just… I didn't have the patience to do it.” I agree (because puzzles are the worst), “I hate puzzles.” We then discuss the weather and how wind is also the worst and how Matt “prefer[s] the rain to the wind. At least the rain's got a romance to it.” He then asks for a cigarette, Briony obliges, we discuss smoking, quitting smoking and how smoking affects your vocal chords. Matt says, “By the gig, you're going, like, ‘oh my God, am I ill? Or it's just because I've stopped smoking.’ So I don't know what to do. I need to ask someone who's a smoker and a good singer..”
We then discuss his worst gig ever, which happened to be his first ever headline show. And then he tells me the story of playing a show in Scotland to three (very drunk) Scotsmen, and how it was better than his previous sold out show. “Well, at least it wasn’t, you know, it wasn't my first headline gig when you want it to be perfect.” I feel a secondary heavenly force shine onto me when I ask, “How do you feel about perfection? Is that something that you’re striving towards?” “I don't think so. Because I think maybe all the things that we love aren't perfect. You know what I mean? Like, I love the Beatles, and a lot of the recordings, you can tell that they've just laid a shaker down and then they haven't thought about it. There's a lot of things that are just not quite right.. But it is perfect because.. Because you love it. I think if you try [to] be perfect, you just lose like a lot of. You know what I mean? All the stuff that makes it feel… something. I think maybe with anything.” I then preface that I am never ever perfect, then ask him if he likes boats. “I don't think I've had enough experiences on a boat to know. I do have a vision of me being an old man. in the Mediterranean Sea. going out with my bottle of wine.. Maybe like a little sandwich. And just rowing out. Seeing the sunset. But that is my relationship with a boat.. Same with the little picture of the landscape of me on a boat. Which I would like to be my first album cover. Something like that. Me on a boat with a little lantern. Pitching that, putting that out there. But it's curated. I'm not actually in the sea. It's a set.” I say, “It should be maybe a painting.” He agrees, and Briony adds “A 16th century Italian.?” He agrees again laughing. He then asks me to ask my original question about art, and I tell him that I got the answer I wanted already. He is surprised. I feel like a master of conversation, then Briony asks “So what's the sandwich?” He says, “Probably like a very simple, just like, nice bit of prosciutto..” She seems offended, “No butter?” “No, no. Maybe olive oil. Nice olive oil..” Briony, at this point genuinely offended, I theorise. I ask Matt what his favourite bread is, he answers baguette, I ask where in England can you get the best baguette and he answers Sainsbury’s so, naturally, I go on a two minute monologue about how Waitrose make a far superior baguette than Sainsbury’s, by far, FYI. Interviewed derailed by olive oil and baguettes, it goes even further away from music or anything that I was thinking of asking about as the full band of Lemonsuckr walk past us and Matt exclaims “I went to college with him!” Briony and I try to figure out which one, and it turns out to be Lemonsuckr frontman Guy.
We discuss The Beatles, The Lemon Twigs and how much Matt wanted to meet them when he played with them at All Points East but failed. How much Briony loves George Harrison, Paul McCartney's failed shed, Matt then asks me to recommend some gothic literature to him, I can't think of anything off the top of my head so we end up talking about Nick Cave. “I went to see him play at the O2 last year and it was unbelievable. I was crying. Oh, it's so spiritual. It's amazing.” I ask him, “Is that something that you would want?” “To play the O2?” he clarifies, I ask “to create the spiritual…” “100%, yeah. It doesn't feel like a gig. It feels like something else. It feels like more than just, like...Like, I went to see Oasis and like, that's a Gig. There's a different like frequency going on [at a Nick Cave show]. You know? While oasis, you’re just like ‘oh my god, they're back together! Liam’s got a tambourine on his head’, you know? Nick's a bit more like a world.” We end by agreeing that we feel like we know each other now. Then we finish out pints and go our separate ways. Hugging me and Briony before walking up the hill towards the station with newly reunited Meg.
On the 29th of August, Matt-Felix will release his sophomore EP. In which he takes the listener down a path from twilight to the depths of darkness. Not unlike a siren or some sort of sharp-suit clad kraken. On ‘Dark Enough To See’ he explores the space between cold and hot, blistering and burning. Each track anthemic and brooding, Matt Felix delivers not just a songwriting masterclass but a lesson on the grandeur of storytelling. Every verse, every line clearly having a visual incarnation in his mind, that the listener gets smoky, sweet visions of with every listen. The whole experience is cinematic, sweeping landscapes come in flashes reverberating through guitar riffs. The listening experience speaking to something more than ‘just music’. Songs, notes, lyricism that evokes images of dark smoky corners and lipstick on collars. You can smell the musk of church pews, the sea air, the hints of asbestos in your favourite pub. It's an experience, it's a window into Felix’s soul. A piece of him to take on the path into the dark with you.
PRE-SAVE: DARK ENOUGH TO SEE NOW
‘WOUNDED LITTLE SOUL’ FROM ‘DARK ENOUGH TO SEE’ MUSIC VIDEO
LISTEN TO MATT-FELIX: