A Blast from the Past: My Time with Cazals

In the mid-2000s, I was on a mission. I wanted to establish myself as a record producer. So, I hunted high and low for great bands to work with. I was looking for those who seemed to have some momentum. That was the way to make a name for yourself back then. It was a fantastic time for raw British indie bands. Shoreditch was the epicenter of all things loud and seedy before it turned into hipster central. You know the scene: fixies, retro facial hair, skinny jeans, and even breakfast cereal cafes!

I had heard of Cazals, a band that was part of that vibrant scene. They seemed hungry and scrappy. They had already released an indie single with the now hugely successful Paul Epworth. At that time, he was still climbing the greasy producer pole, but he was definitely further up than I was!

By then, I had produced some B-sides for The Rakes, whose album Paul had also produced. Spot a trend here? It got worse later, by the way! I went to see The Rakes in Oxford, and guess who was opening for them? Cazals.

The Magic of Live Performance

Many bands back then shared similar British post-punk references. Sonically, they weren’t super different from the pack. But live? Cazals were something special. The singer, Phil Bush, had that magic “something.” He looked like a mix between a World War II fighter pilot and a London street urchin. Plus, he had a gravelly voice that was hard to forget. The whole band could play, and they looked cool together as a unit.

I reached out to them and asked if they’d be interested in working together. They said yes! I ended up doing a track for them for free, which became a single.

Recording "Comfortable Silence"

"Comfortable Silence," as far as I remember, was recorded in just one day at Wired in Reading. It came out on both 7” and CD versions on Young and Lost, a label offshoot of the club with the same name. It was run by former Pyrrha Girl DJs Nadia and Sara. This was indie toilet scene win—solid cred-building material! Plus, it was the best release they’d made up to that point. Take that, Eppo! The band later told me the mastering guy at Heathmans didn’t even have to EQ it. I was thrilled!

Wired was a unique place. It was grim, located in a derelict house that looked like it belonged in a horror movie. It had an outside toilet and a mysterious, work-shy kung fu guy living upstairs. Yet, somehow, it was brilliant. The owner, Chris Britton, and the patron of the Rising Sun Arts Centre next door made indie rock and roll in Reading possible. Imagine a semi-falling-down, unheated room with no stage or lights that transformed into an electrifying sweatbox full of young indie hooligans. That was thanks to the tireless indie gig promoter, Steven “Sid” Siddle. The man deserves a blue plaque for his services to indie music!

The Ups and Downs of the Music Industry

Time passed, and my currency was slowly improving. I had secured management by a well-known UK producer manager. Some time later, Cazals' manager reached out to mine (fancy, huh?). The new plan was to record some new tracks as the key to inking a deal with a French label that was interested. We recorded at The Doghouse near Henley, a residential studio, and the tracks turned out pretty cool. I tracked to 2” tape, then into Pro Tools—very rock & roll!

Unfortunately, their manager, Sean, was notoriously sketchy. He didn’t pay the bill for the work. More specifically, he wrote a bouncy cheque to my manager, which never cleared. Believe it or not, back then, the bank charged YOU if someone else’s cheque bounced! Then, they all ghosted us. This didn’t do any favors for my mood or my relationship with the studio owner.

Shortly after, Cazals did sign a deal with Kitsuné and made a record somewhere in France. Interestingly, the record was a departure from their live sound. The label was more dance-oriented, and I suspect it was impossible to translate that live. It didn’t quite work out. I imagine that Martin, the very talented bassist and leader, loved it. But taking a great live indie guitar band and changing them like that was a mistake. Eventually, the band folded, which is why you probably haven’t heard of them.

Lessons Learned

At the time, I took these things very personally. But it’s essential to learn the lesson that bands rarely are your friends. Often, you’re just a stepping stone to their next destination—be it a bigger producer, label, or whatever. Even though you put your heart into something, keep one eye on the money. It may be nothing more than a transaction, and you NEED to make that money to survive. But try not to focus on that. Focus on the now and at least TRY to deliver the best work you can.

If you’re an engineer or producer just starting out, it’s true: it’s a long way to the top if you want to rock & roll, just as they say. You have to set down the road if you want to get anywhere. It’s GOING to be bumpy. Worst case, you can look back almost 20 years later and feel proud of the ratty little indie records you made with all those bands. Especially if you managed to keep going!

Having to make that journey is how I became a mixer at the end of the day. I found my considerably less hassle calling.

Revisiting "Comfortable Silence"

Now, what about this now not-so-young and pretty much lost single, now that it’s 19 years old? Here’s what I think is the only existing version of the song out there. The vinyl and CDs are rare as hell, and it isn’t on any streaming platforms. Enjoy the smell of the mid-2000s UK indie club scene!

Fancy another article? Here's one about Vinyl and Artwork if you're interested.

Watch the video here!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FwvdMr0PIgw