Slow And Steady Wins The Race
For Kate Stables, AKA This Is The Kit, success is sustainable and surrounded by friends
Kate Stables, who works under the moniker, This Is The Kit, is based in Paris, France, by way of first, Winchester, and then, Bristol, in the UK. Her music is a mashup of low-key, acoustic-based, well-crafted songwriting, with quirky, somewhat edgy guitar noises, and jammy horns, and she’s been at it since the early-ish aughts. She has five full length albums under her belt—her latest, Off Off On, is due out October 23—and, notwithstanding the current pandemic, about 15-plus years of touring as well.
But for Stables, there’s no magic bullet. Success is rooted in sustainability, which is born of consistency, hard work, and slogging it out in the trenches. “To an outsider, it seems like things are taking off—there’s radio play and stuff like that—but to the actual musicians themselves, nothing changes much,” she says in our interview below. “Radio play doesn’t all of a sudden mean you can buy a mansion with a swimming pool or anything. Everything is the same. It’s just that more people have heard of your latest single than they would have done before … It’s been a slow build, and it feels like a nice sustainable situation at the moment.”
Stables started performing in her hometown of Winchester, but it was after moving to Bristol, where she became an integral part of the local scene, that she met many of the people who still form her core network today. “I moved to Bristol, which is in the west of England,” she says. “And moving to Bristol was one of the best things I ever did.” It’s through that group of people that she connected with producer John Parish (PJ Harvey, Tracy Chapman, and many others), the small independent labels that released her first albums, and the musicians and collaborators she’s been working with ever since. That tight circle, which includes drummer Jamie Whitby-Coles, guitarist Neil Smith, multi-instrumentalist and vocalist Rozi Plain—who’s been collaborating with Stables since they were young teens in Winchester—and Jesse Vernon, has grown beyond the parochial confines of the Bristol scene, and today includes artists like Aaron Dressner from the National, and Adam Schatz (Landlady). But despite that extra bandwidth, as well has her higher profile as an artist, her focus remains relationships-based and community-focused. “It's really nice to stay in touch,” she says. “It’s really nice to be able to work together, and to work with your friends.”
I spoke with Stables from her home in Paris, and we discussed her early projects, the steady growth of her career, her ever-evolving and developing songwriting style, the travails of being an itinerant musician, working with various indies—including signing with Rough Trade a few years ago—and the prospect of going back on the road, after, like most of the world, being on lockdown for most of 2020.
When did you start playing music?
I started playing music when I was a kid. Like most people, I started off singing stuff with my family and my sisters, and then started having trumpet lessons when I was 10 or so. I started learning guitar at a similar time. My dad showed me some chords, and it went on from there. By the time I was 16, I was playing the guitar, and singing songs, and writing some songs as well.
When did you start playing banjo?
A banjo turned up at my parents’ house in my mid-to-late teens. I enjoyed having a go on it, and then got a bit hooked. A friend of mine had an old broken banjo in his grandma’s attic, and he gave it to me because he knew that I played a little bit. That’s still the banjo that I use to this day. It’s survived a lot of stuff.
Is it a regular banjo? It looks like it has a lot of guitar-like characteristics.
It’s a Zither banjo, which is a type of banjo they made in the 1920s and 1930s in the UK. They were massed produced in Birmingham, and because they were massed produced, I guess it was just easier to whack on strips of three machine heads at a time. There are six machine heads on it. Everyone thinks it’s a six-string banjo, but it’s just a normal five-string banjo. Everything about it is designed for five strings—there’s even the drone halfway up the neck—but it looks like it has six strings. One of the machine heads is redundant. For the drone, instead of having the tuning peg halfway up the neck, it’s got a secret tunnel, and the string goes through the tunnel in the neck and comes out in the headstock. It does bamboozle a lot of people. It’s good fun.
When you started playing professionally?
I started off playing open mic nights in my hometown, Winchester, and then got asked to open for a few gigs of other musicians who were passing through on tour. I started getting paid for gigs when I was still living in Winchester, but it went up a notch when I moved to Bristol, and I was doing more gigs. I started a band with my friend, Rachel Dadd—we were doing gigs together as our duo project, Whalebone Polly—but it wasn’t until I moved to Paris that I stopped all other employment entirely. When I was in Bristol, I was still doing other odd jobs to subsidize the cost of living. Since I’ve been in Paris, I’ve basically only done music, which was really lucky. You know what, that is not entirely true. In the rough patches, my partner and I, Jesse Vernon, we did Airbnb-out our bedroom from time to time. But basically, music has been our main job since moving here.
Is This Is The Kit your solo project?
It’s basically whatever I do whenever I am writing songs and playing them. These days, it’s usually with the band that has been the band for the past few years. Technically, it’s still This Is The Kit even if I am on my own, but it’s nicer when the band is there as well.
Have your collaborators been with you a long time?
I met Rozi Plain, [the band’s bassist], when I lived in Winchester. We met at secondary school, which I guess is the equivalent of junior high school in the US, and have been playing music together ever since. I met drummer, Jamie Whitby-Coles, and guitarist, Neil Smith in Bristol. They’re all special guys. Neil is a real sounds master. He’s like a wizard of feedback and distortion-y tones, and it’s a real treat to be in a band with him. It’s nice where he takes it, because quite often what I am doing is rhythmical or percussive or just metronome-y, and it is nice that he then adds these clouds of atmosphere.
How did the band start taking off?
It’s hard to know what the definition of “taking off” is, but basically, I’ve always toured for a fair amount of every year. With every year that’s passed, the venues get a little bit fuller—and sometimes a bigger venue—and that’s been happening for the past 10-to-15 years. What’s nice is it is sustainable now. We’re getting gig where I can pay all the band members and stuff like that, which is ideal. It’s the goal, isn’t it [laughs]?
At some point, didn’t BBC Radio 6 start playing you a lot?
They’ve been very supportive, and they’ve been great. To an outsider, it seems like things are taking off—there’s radio play and stuff like that—but to the actual musicians themselves, nothing changes much. Radio play doesn’t all of a sudden mean you can buy a mansion with a swimming pool or anything. Everything is the same. It’s just that more people have heard of your latest single than they would have done before. I don’t know if that counts as taking off. It’s been a slow build, and it feels like a nice sustainable situation at the moment. But who knows what will happen now, because the world is in a different place now.
It’s a slow grind, from playing 1 AM gigs for the bartender, to headlining and having an audience.
I still actually struggle with being the headliner, or even just the phrase, “headliner.” I am so much more used to being the opening act, and I am still learning how to be the last band. I remember a particularly memorable gig we did in Limerick once, in Ireland, and there was just one person in the audience. I am not even sure that she had come to see the gig. She was just at the bar, and it was really quite an educational experience for everyone [laughs]. But it was great, the artist’s job is to pay the gig whether there is one person in the room or not. That’s what you do.
Mike Watt calls those gigs, “character builders.”
Exactly. They’re total character builders. They’re skill builders. It’s a good opportunity for a real situation band practice. There’s no such thing as a wasted gig. I haven’t encounter one yet.
How did you hook up with producer, John Parish?
That was the Bristol scene. Jesse, my partner, had worked with him a lot and had been in his band for the release of How Animals Move. Jesse was on that album, and in the touring band for that, so they knew each other pretty well. John either ended up seeing a gig I did or hearing a bit of my music, and he proposed to work together on an album. That’s how Krulle Bol, my first album, came out. We’ve known each other ever since, and it was nice to work with him again. It was actually 10 years later. We did Krulle Bol in 2006 or 2007 [it wasn’t released until 2008], and then again in 2016, when we worked on Moonshine Freeze.
What does he bring to the table?
He brings a very nice energy to the recording session. He’s so grounded and calm and clear at explaining. His energy is a pleasure to be around, and he’s also a complete master of his craft. Especially concerning sounds, recording techniques, and what you run stuff through. He’s also a real analog master. When it comes to mixing it, he’ll do it all on a desk with sliders—live often as well—he’ll do live mixes while the track is getting fed into the computer, and that is a real pleasure to watch. It’s not just a question of setting the settings on a computer, or even on the desk, and pressing go. He’s there, playing the music, and mixing it as it gets recorded.
It sounds like every mix is a performance.
He’s really good at the analog side of things, and the sounds things make. And decisions as well. He knows when something is a bit excessive. He knows when to say, “That’s enough now. We’ll use this take.” Or, “Don’t play those extra notes.” He makes really good choices.
When you say analog, does that mean you record to tape?
He does do tape—his speciality is recording to tape—but we’ve never had the budget to do that with him. With us, it was more analog equipment and the analog side of mixing, rather than using tape to record it.
Are your songs lived in before you bring them into the studio? Is that your working M.O.?
Exactly. I’ll start playing a song live before I feel like it’s finished, so I’ll know how to finish it or what to do next. Then the band will start joining in, and at some point we’ll record it. Then we’ll take it on tour, and it’ll keep changing on tour. Not always very much. I am sure certain people have come to a few of our gigs and will say, “You play that the same every time,” which is possibly the case for a lot of songs. But I am always up for things changing.
When you say “changing,” you’re not a jam band, and you’re not taking lengthy solos. What do you mean?
Not necessarily lengthy solos, but sometimes added instrumental passages, or allowing for a section for everyone doing what they want and it being a bit weird, or drone-y, or changing the arrangement. Sometimes I’ll tweak the lyrics. Sometimes I’ll invent new vocal arrangements for Jamie and Rozi to sing. It just depends. Whatever we’ve got time to sort out and tweak along the way on the road, we’ll do it. Also, Neil really loves taking solos, so for the live stuff, I try to facilitate his desire to let rip a little bit more.
How much room do you give your collaborators to come up with their own parts?
That turns up by letting them bring what they’re best at to the music. They probably have a different opinion to me. I wonder if they find me quite strict, and fussy sometimes. But I try. I like to think that I appreciate what they bring and I am really happy with what they propose. Obviously, we negotiate stuff and chat about things. We’re all imputing into the pot, but for me, it’s important that they bring their sound. And to be honest, whenever they have to be replaced by anyone else, it’s just not the same. There’s just no reproducing what Neil and Rozi and Jamie do individually or together.
There’s the synergy, too, from knowing each other and playing together. You can’t replace that.
Exactly, and it is the same in any band. That’s just how it is. Also, for example, I can’t get together with the band at the moment because I am in France and they’re in the UK, and there are quarantine rules in place. We’ve got our French team for when we need to do gigs in France, and they obviously don’t sound like Jamie and Rozi and Neil, but they sound excellent. It’s a real pleasure to play with different energy, and different communication. and different sounds. There is always an upside to everything.
Was your first album Krulle Bol?
“Krulle Bol” is a name that my grandad used to call me. He was Flemish, and it means, “curly ball,” in Flemish.
The label you released it on, Microbe, what’s their story?
They were friends of ours in Paris who were running a label and were up for putting out my stuff. They were also putting out Jesse’s albums as well. They were part of the reason we ended up settling in Paris. We came here to hang out with them, to work with them, and to see what France was like for a bit, and we stayed.
Did you sign with Brassland after that?
There was a little label in Bristol, called Dreamboat, who put out our second album. It was a small operation and coming to the end of its life anyway. That was a mixture of them putting it out, and also us putting it out ourselves. It wasn’t until Wriggle Out the Restless came out that Brassland came into the picture. They rereleased Wriggle Out the Restless, and then put out Bashed Out, after that had been made.
Is Brassland the National’s label?
It’s the label set up by Bryce and Aaron Dessner of the National, with their friend Alec Hanley Bemis. Alec ran the label and, I guess, it was so they could put out National stuff back in the day. Since then, they’ve gone on to other stuff, but Brassland continues to put stuff out. For a while, it was my stuff they were putting out, which was great. They are a really good little label. When I say “they,” it’s just Alec. He’s a total superstar, a one man show plowing on, and doing a really good job.
And Aaron is on Moonshine Freeze, so you obviously maintained that relationship as well.
Yeah exactly, he’s on Moonshine Freeze, and he even plays a little bit on Off Off On. We’re pals. It’s really nice to stay in touch. I did a bit of singing on the National’s last album, too, and it meant I went off on tour with them. It’s nice to be able to work together and hang out. He was producing Ben Howard’s album recently, and I did a little bit of singing for that. It’s really nice to be able to work together.
How does touring in the UK and Europe differ from the US?
I would say that touring in Europe is the different bit. The UK and the US are more similar, because the conditions are rougher. There is less funding of venues, and the arts in general, so the ecosystem works differently. I feel like the UK and US are comparable in terms of how hard it is touring. In Europe, there is a bit more funding for the arts—definitely in France anyway—so you’ll always get, for example, a hot meal and an accommodation, and there’s a certain amount of hospitality that is a standard that they would never slip below. Whereas in the UK, it’s like, “Sort yourself out. Do whatever. Get out of here by 11 o’clock.” It’s rougher around the edges, and that’s the same in the US.
When you have horns in the band, do you take them on the road or use local people?
It depends. If it’s a tour where the fees are big enough, then we definitely take them with us. However, we usually stay in people’s houses on tour to make it affordable, and finding a floor that fits a seven-piece band is more difficult than finding a floor that fits a four-piece band. Often we just save the horns for the special event-type gigs. But when we can have them, it’s great. We’ve done a bit of touring in the US where we’ve had horn players from over there join us. That’s really great, because you get to meet excellent people, and play with different people. We did a tour where Adam Schatz, he was playing tenor sax with us, and he did an incredible thing. Not only did he play sax with us, but in every single city, he found a local sax player, so there were always two of them for every gig. Every gig had a different baritone sax player, and it was all Adam sorting it out. He also opened for us, did his own set. and it was incredible every night.
Is Adam the guy with the black beard on your Tiny Desk Concert?
Exactly. He’s got a band called Landlady, and he’s a phenomenal musician and incredible person. The other guy in the Tiny Desk Concert, is Jonah Parzen-Johnson. He’s also a really great sax player, and has his own solo project under his name.
You signed with Rough Trade for Moonshine Freeze, which was your first album with them. Was that an upgrade?
I guess it was an upgrade. It wasn’t a downgrade. To me, I feel like I have a different relationship with size and success. I feel there’s this idea that bigger is better and bigger is progress, whereas I don’t necessarily agree. Either way, I love signing with Rough Trade, and I am really happy to be with them. I am learning new stuff about how to be band that is working with a slightly bigger label.
What are some advantages of being with a label like Rough Trade?
Definitely their community. They have existed for such a long while, and they’ve got a real following. People respect their choices of artists, and they have a good reputation. It opens up a whole new audience that maybe wouldn’t have necessarily paid attention otherwise. It’s also an advantage because you’re learning new skills all the time working with a different structure, a different label, and a bunch of different people. It’s insightful and educational seeing that side of things. Also, it’s a little more streamlined in terms of finding the funds to get things made. Instead of having to take out a loan, or sell your kidney, to make an album, the label can advance it, which is a really useful thing. Obviously, you pay that back, they’ve got to make money and break even, but at least it can all happen in a fairly convenient way time-wise. You don’t have to be sweating about where you’re going to scrape together enough money to have three days in a studio. The pressure is off a little bit financially.
Could you get lost in the shuffle with a bigger label, because there are other acts that are more of a priority?
I think that is true. I don’t think Rough Trade do it—I haven’t noticed them doing it—some labels will bet on a few horses, not really tend to them, and see which one does well. I feel that is a danger with bigger labels, but I feel that Rough Trade are pretty attentive and thoughtful about all their artists. Maybe it’s what I’d like to believe, but from what I’ve observed, I don’t think they take on more than they can manage. They make sure that they are doing a proper job. Although I am someone who likes it when I get overlooked, because then I can do what I like.
You like to work under the radar?
For me it wouldn't mater if in someone else’s opinion they weren’t putting as much work in. I am happy to tick along and do what I like. But that is a danger with certain labels. I definitely feel how they are approaching this new album does seem to be a little bit more geared up than with Moonshine Freeze. Maybe they were seeing how Moonshine Freeze went before they brought out all the big guns. I don’t know. Maybe it’s just that the industry is different. It is any number of reasons why things might feel different compared to a different time. But they seem like they are doing a decent job and they are dedicated.
On your website, it looks like you’re hopeful for touring in spring 2021.
The plan was to tour this autumn, which is obviously not happening now. Everything is being shoved to spring 20/21—all the UK and Europe dates anyway. It is actually kind of hilarious, because this big show has been booked at the Royal Albert Hall for the 21st of April, 2021. That was always the day it was going to be, but now it happens to be at the same time as the tour, whereas before, it was this weird future gig that they booked so far in advance that no one knew why [laughs]. No one understood why it was announced two years in advance, but now it is fine because the tour is happening, fingers crossed, at the same time as that gig, and it should all be ok. But we’ll see, will it be ok? Will the gigs happen? Nobody knows. Funnily enough, the Royal Albert Hall may be one of the gigs that we can do, because it is a seated venue and they can space people out. It might be that standing gigs might not happen, but seated gigs are more likely to happen. Also, because of the spacing, it might mean that we sell it out really easily. If they only allow 50 people in there… [laughs].