Interview
Interview
Stage Times: The Horrors
The Horrors' frontman and founder Faris Badwan relives the Bogeymen of British rock's most memorable moments on stage
2025 marks two decades since The Horrors formed. Donning impossibly skimpy skinny jeans, winklepickers that were more pointed than a 17th century plague doctor’s mask, wild barnets that implied they’ve lost a fight with a pair of hair straighteners, and with all members using grisly pseudonyms, no band looked or sounded like them.
Inspired by shock rockers like Screaming Lord Sutch and gothic forefathers in Bauhaus and The Birthday Party, The Horrors were a nasty but necessary shot in the arm for British indie music.
“To be honest, when we started we had no ambitions beyond having our own 7 inch,” says toweringly tall frontman and founder Faris Badwan over Zoom. “That was the thing that excited us the most, to have a record which we could hold in our hands. Maybe, secretly, I’d hoped we’d at least release three albums. But I had no idea it’d be this long.”
Dismissed as a bit of a novelty act by initial sceptics, The Horrors have largely outlasted their peers from the mid-00s indie explosion thanks to their ever-mutating sound.
Throughout their six full-length studio albums the band have explored cloud-busting shoegaze, PVC fetishising techno-industrial noise, and the shadowy origins of garage rock, reanimating themselves in new ways with each new record – and with new personnel for their most recent album, Night Life.
It’s a potential cornerstone for most outfits when crucial band members leave to pursue new pastures. But Badwan insists that The Horrors are a relentless force of nature, rejuvenated by their new additions in Amelia Kidd on keys who “twisted our sound in a way that was really interesting to us” and Jordan Cook on drums.
“I never imagined stopping. It’s so much a part of my life. There’s no way to separate it from me,” he confirms adamantly. “Sometimes people still ask me if it feels like work. I never really think about it in those terms. I don’t separate it being work from not being work. I don’t separate The Horrors and not The Horrors. It’s what my life is centred around.”
With the Bogeymen of British rock set to head out on a UK tour in support of Night Life next month, Badwan relives the band’s most memorable moments on stage – from scaring children on the beach, to fixating a dog in the audience, to their notorious Arctic Monkeys support slot at Ally Pally where he was pelted with enough coins to pay for his cab home.
The gig that made you want to become a musician
The thing is, I never really thought I could become a musician. When I grew up, all the people in bands around me were on their way to being Grade 8 technical players. I thought you sort of had to be Eric Clapton. It was only when I got into No Wave, and all the late 70s stuff coming out of New York, that being in a band seemed possible to me.
There was this band called Selfish C*nt. One of the first times I came to London, you heard about gigs through badly maintained internet forums. The amount of information was usually limited, and someone would do a post on a thread saying there’s this gig or whatever. You’d just turn up not knowing what to expect. There was this gig at The Garage: Selfish C*nt and Black Wire, who didn’t actually play. But Selfish C*nt turned up. I was sixteen. I’d just watched a couple of indie bands, who didn’t really excite me, even as a 16 year old who’d watch anything. Selfish C*nt were a two-piece, a drum machine and guitarist/singer Martin. They were making an absolute racket. The singer comes on stage in massive sunglasses and a dress, nothing else, no underwear – immediately gets a drink thrown in his face. They launched into this brutal noise assault that totally seemed to confuse the crowd. I thought it was incredible. The audacity. I was like ‘you’re allowed to do this as a band?’ It sparked something in me. Even if I didn’t want to do exactly that, it was inspiring. The raw energy of it. Whenever you see that raw energy on display, it’s infectious.
The first
We played at a place called The Spread Eagle, at the top of Great Eastern Street. I was walking down Kingsland Road looking for a place to do a club night. It was a lot easier to do club nights back in 2005; you could more or less just go in and ask to do something. It was the kind of venue that nobody would even want to go to: run down, leopard print wallpaper, walls painted black. I did my own club night with Tom (from The Horrors]. We’d existed for about three weeks, and did a ten minute set. Five songs, three covers. Most of which were just a barrage of noise. But it was exciting. They booked us again to play the following week, and we basically played three gigs a week for the rest of the year.
Can you remember the songs you played?
We played ‘Jack The Ripper’ by Screaming Lord Sutch, we played ‘The Witch’ by The Sonics. Can’t remember the rest.
The smallest
I remember we played once at The Rhythm Factory in front of two people. One of them had a dog. Literally two men and a dog. I have no idea why we played that early, or why there was a dog there. We did our soundcheck and we didn’t even get off stage, just stayed there and played the gig.
How did the dog respond to the set?
The dog was pretty well-behaved actually. It seemed to have its attention fixed on the performance.
The biggest
We did a tour with Muse in arenas around Europe. That was interesting. It was a different crowd. There was some overlap, but generally it was a different crowd to what we’re used to.
How was the crowd different?
I think with any band that plays shows of that size, in an arena, it feels like more of an event for people who might only go to two gigs a year or something. Going to a stadium is quite a commitment. It’s an unusual thing to do. I personally prefer playing smaller clubs, like Kentish Town Forum. I like that kind of venue. It’s got that old school vibe and you can still connect with the crowd. That’s exactly why we chose to play there [for their November tour] because it’s one of our favourite venues.
Playing with Muse, it was a challenge. It’s a room full of someone else’s fans. Some people try to win everyone over, but I sort of think it’s better to be the most extreme version of yourself in that setting. I’d rather split the crowd between people who really get it and people who really don’t. Like, we played Alexandra Palace with Arctic Monkeys once, and it was a fight between us and the crowd. We had so much money thrown at us that I actually paid for my cab home. It was about £30 worth of change. I literally paid for my cab home in small change. They were throwing heated coins. It was one of my favourite shows that I’ve ever played.
Because of the sheer reaction?
Yeah, that energy. Such a raw exchange of energy. Because it was such a spectacle, by the end, it felt like the show went well. There was something primal about it. I’ve always thought that you need the extremes. You want people to have a strong dislike for what you’re doing, otherwise you won’t get the other side of it. I’d rather have the two polar opposites rather than meander around in the middle.
The weirdest
We played at this surf festival in Newquay, after an AC/DC cover band. It was literally on the beach. I have no idea who booked us, or why, but we were playing to a load of holidaymakers with surf boards and body boards. There were loads of children in swimming shorts. It was in a tent, in the blistering heat. This was one of our early gigs, so we were dressed in drainpipes and winklepickers, on the f*cking beach. That was pretty weird. There’s a photo of that somewhere, us and all these kids who were freaked out by us.
You worked with Chris Cunningham earlier in your career, so were you accompanied by any of your visuals at that show?
Oh God, we were a long way off being able to have a screen. We hadn’t even met Chris by that point, that’s how early it was. There’s a video of us somewhere playing ‘Jack The Ripper’ through an incredibly bad PA system. You can’t hear any bass. I wouldn’t even call it a wall of noise, more of a trickle.
I’m just having visions of children screaming everywhere.
They were screaming, but I can’t say it was with joy.
The worst
One year we played Benicàssim where the sound engineer hadn’t done the monitors properly, so we got ear-splitting feedback throughout. I can’t even describe it in a way that’s entertaining, it was just painful.
You seem to get a kick out of riling a crowd up…
I do. I enjoy it. Some people would class the Arctic Monkeys’ gig as our worst gig, but as I was saying, that reaction was far more enjoyable to me. I genuinely enjoy it. There’s something in me where when stuff like that happens, I get this wave of energy. Like I want to prove them wrong, or just do even better. It’s motivating.
The best
We’ve been lucky enough to play in different countries, often the first trip to a new place can be really great. Like when we first went to Japan. We played in this tiny club, turned up to people greeting us at the airport, dressed like us. That was weird. They were at the airport and hotel with gifts, which was nuts. We had a similar reaction in Mexico, but they were less respectful of our personal space – when we arrived there were 200 people waiting, climbing over the promoter’s car. I got in the car, and people swarmed all over it. His car was covered in scratches and dents after he finally managed to drive out.
It sounds like a scene from 28 Days Later.
It was like that. The car windows were completely covered. There were people everywhere.
You played the Royal Albert Hall for the Primary Colours anniversary. Where does that rank?
That was one of my favourite gigs, especially in Europe. It also felt, even at the time, that it was a milestone. The end of something. It felt like we were moving into a new phase as a band. I don’t think we realised why at the time, but it had this feeling of closure. Looking back, four or five years ago now, we were starting to think about our next record and moving into a different phase. I didn’t realise at the time, but it would be without a couple of members. It was celebrating one specific album – which might have been some people’s favourite record from The Horrors – but it’s such a special venue, it’s one I’ll always remember.
The Horrors tour the UK in support of sixth album Night Life throughout November. Find tickets here
