The name says it all, but this trio still spent halloween dressed as their favourite David Lynch characters to make sure.

Photography by Lee Goldup

‘Twas the eve before Hallows, when all through the house, not a creature was stirring, except for a few hundred hipsters decked head to toe in David Lynch paraphernalia. And while they chatter innocuously in the bar, their eyes half-heartedly fixed on the unearthly extracts of Twin Peaks screening above the DJ, upstairs sit an Indian, a scalped drug dealer and a demonic entity.

“Doran gave me the idea for this because I was freaking out,” says Craig, the effervescent drummer and founder of indie label Sleep All Day, currently perched on the arm of a sofa in a big Indian headdress animatedly chatting about why he’s dressed like his choice of Twin Peaks character. “I’m Johnny, Audrey’s brother, who’s massively disabled and doesn’t really talk at all and you rarely see his face,” he gushes, “but also this is really weird because my girlfriend is going as Audrey, which means I’m her brother tonight.”

As they share in a chuckle Doran, the frontman and songsmith of the troupe, explains that he’s the “drug-dealing, wife-beating bastard” Leo, except he’s modified the plot somewhat. “I changed the storyline for my own benefit and decided that this cop Hawk, who’s a Native American, scalped me. I’m just a bloody mess,” he intones, with red splattered across his clothes and a brain poking through the top of his baseball cap.

And then routed beside Doran’s small frame is bassist Hugo, who’s slumped in a grey wig, a denim jacket and an owl mask settled just above his brow to resemble Killer Bob.

They look like an odd set now, but on stage they gel so well you wouldn’t realise that they’ve only been a band since July. They released their Bratwell-recorded four-track debut EP on cassette on the 27th through Sleep All Day’s sister label Sleepy King, just three days after playing their first ever show at Tough Love’s fifth birthday all dayer. Hugo wasn’t even part of the band before this.

“Well, me and Craig have been talking about doing something for a long time, way too long,” Doran reasons. “Then I finally sorted my shit out and started writing some songs instead of procrastinating all the time. Hugo didn’t join us until we’d finished recording the first EP. Everything has been really fast.”

“Before it was just me and Doran in a room making noise,” says Craig, which Doran expresses as weird. “It’s a little experiment,” he clarifies.

Aged 26 and 28 respectively, Doran and Craig met at work. “Where we sell dead people’s clothes,” deadpans Doran. “Just a vintage clothes shop. But how do I know you?” He asks, looking towards Hugo questioningly. “Through bands I guess,” shrugs Hugo like a monosyllabic teenager, despite being 23. “Yeah, friends of friends,” grins Doran. “No motorcycle gangs or anything.”

Having grown up in different parts of the country – Doran was on the borders of Essex, while Hugo was in Surrey and Craig was in the Midlands – it was London that forced them together along with little ideas sprouting in Doran’s mind. “I guess it’s my project, I write all the music,” he ponders, “but I couldn’t think of anything worse than having a solo project, it’s just one of the most disgusting things I can think of. If you start off writing songs by yourself and you’ve got people around you who’ve got the same influences, and you gel, then eventually it becomes more than you would’ve been able to make it in the first place. It transcends my abilities,” he pauses before laughing, “Hopefully.”

Once Doran presents the guys with a song they don’t wait around. “Me and Craig rush,” he says. “We book studio time before he knows the songs, and then we learn them as quickly as possible, go in and just record no matter how unprepared. But it always seems to come together.”

Unlike all the lo-fi, garage-fuzz bands around at the moment (such as Not Cool, The Love Triangle, Lovvers, etc.) Weird Dreams have a really clean sound that’s almost innovative in the current climate. Almost. Taking influence from a plethora of Sixties girl bands and the Beach Boys, they sound like a balladeering, harmonising, poppy soul group with a twist of Weezer-cheese. “The Tammys, The Girls,” Doran starts offering by way of example. “The obvious ones like The Shangri-Las, but early Sixties southern soul as well and metal and hardcore but you can’t really hear Slayer in there,” he jokes.

As well as pop music, Doran channels a Lynchian technique too. “Me and Craig have a mutual love for everything David Lynch,” he begins, “which I know is incredibly fashionable at the moment. I read this book Lynch on Lynch, which is loads of interviews with him about his films and the way he works. It helped me changed the way I write. I don’t practice transcendental meditation or anything, but he uses this stream of consciousness approach and lets things go where they’re supposed to rather than sticking to traditional formulas or composition. I just found it really endearing. It probably doesn’t sound like that when you listen to the music, it probably sounds really poppy.”

Taken from one of the tracks on their EP, ‘Little Girl’, is the name Weird Dreams. “I have a massive history of sleep terrors,” Doran says. “I haven’t had them for a long time, but I moved into a new flat with my girlfriend and the tables turned and she started having these nightmares. She was dreaming that people were coming in every single night. But yeah, it ended up being the chorus of one of the songs and I really like it. It’s quite ambiguous in a way, I think it leaves a lot to interpretation. Plus I like the way it sounds, good euphony.”

The guys are working on a follow-up to their first EP now, another four tracks that will be released in January, but to allay your cravings there’s a split seven inch out now on Colours’ label Marshall Teller with Brooklyn buds Total Slacker.

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