Cazals: Journey of a Record Producer in the Indie Music Scene

In the mid 2000’s I was really pushing hard to establish myself as a record producer, so hunted far and wide for great bands to work with who seemed like they just might have some momentum. This is how it was done if you wanted to establish yourself. It was a great time for raw British indie bands and Shoreditch was the epicenter of all things seedy and loud before it became hipster central for a while, filled with fixies, retro facial hair, skinny jeans and weird things like breakfast cereal cafes.

I’d heard of Cazals who were part of that scene, seemed pretty hungry, scrappy and had done an indie single with the - now hugely successful - Paul Epworth, himself at that point still climbing the greasy producer pole, though further up it than me!

By then I’d produced some b-sides for The Rakes (who’s album Paul had also produced…spot a trend here? It got worse later, btw) and went to see them in Oxford, and who was opening? Cazals.

Many bands at that time had a similar set of British post-punk references, so sonically they weren’t super different to the pack, but live I thought they were great, especially the singer Phil Bush who just had that magic “something”, a look which was half World War 2 fighter pilot with a scarf, and half London street urchin and a really distinctive, gravelly voice. The band could all play, and looked cool together as a unit. I reached out and asked if they’d be interested in working together. They said yes, and so I did a track for them for free, which became a single.

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

Wired was a pretty unique place, at once grim in part of a pretty much derelict serial killer type house with an outside toilet and a mysterious work-shy kung fu guy that lived upstairs, yet somehow brilliant despite its size and a testament to the owner Chris Britton, who along with the patron of the Rising Sun Arts Centre it was next to - itself a live indie Mecca - which in no small part made indie rock and roll in Reading a possibility. Imagine a semi-falling-down, unheated room with no stage or lights to speak of that transformed into an electrifying sweatbox full of young indie hooligans and almost-there bands courtesy of the truly tireless indie gig promoter Steven “Sid” Siddle. The man also should have a blue plaque for his services to indie music. They all should.

Time passed and my currency was slowly improving due to the relentless grind by then, having secured management by a known UK producer manager. Some time later, their manager reached out to mine (fancy huh?) and the new plan was to do 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 place and they turned out pretty cool, I tracked to 2” tape, then into pro tools - very rock & roll.

Unfortunately their manager Sean was a notoriously sketchy individual, didn’t pay the bill for the work (well, more specifically he wrote a bouncy cheque to my manager - which never cleared - and in those days believe it or not the bank charged YOU if someone else’s cheque bounced) and then they all ghosted us. This did no favors for my mood, or relationship with the studio owner, of course. Shortly after, off the back of them, they indeed did sign a deal with Kitsuné, and made a record somewhere in France.

Interestingly the record was a departure from what they did live, maybe as the label was more dance orientated and I suspect that it was impossible to translate live, and all in all didn’t quite work. I imagine that Martin, the very talented bassist/leader who was very into production loved it, but taking a great live indie guitar band and doing that to them was a mistake. The band eventually folded which is why you’re probably never heard of them.

At the time, you take these things very personally, but it’s necessary to learn the lesson that bands rarely are your friends and you are often just a steeping stone to the next destination, be it a bigger producer, label, whatever it may be. So, even though you put your heart into something, keep one eye on the money as 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 TRY at least to be great and deliver the best work you can.

If you’re an engineer or producer just starting out, it’s true, it is a long way to the top if you want to rock & roll just as they say, and you have to at least 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 be proud of the ratty little indie records you made with all of these bands with a sense of happiness, especially if you managed to keep going. Having to make the journey is how I became a mixer at the end of the day, and find my - considerably less hassle - calling.

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