INTRODUCING: DEEP BLEAK

Following the release of their long-awaited self-titled debut EP Deep Bleak — a dark, restless collision of electronic intensity and post-punk melancholy — East London duo Liam Butler and Sarah Neumann talk grief, radical acceptance, and dancing through the chaos. Their latest single “Dancing On Broken Bottles” channels what they call “the surreal everyday bleakness of grief” into something both frenzied and freeing — a sonic embodiment of sad mania.

1. Your new single “Dancing On Broken Bottles” has been described as capturing the “surreal everyday bleakness of grief.” Can you tell us about the emotional or personal space you were in when writing it—and how you channel that feeling of “sad mania” into sound?

B: That tune came about during a mad spell, it was on another level to anything I’ve experienced before. We didn’t set out to make the song heavy or anything, it just sort of spilled out that way. Sonically, I wanted it to feel alive, intense, peaceful then frantic all at the same time, like you’re falling apart but somehow you’re dancing through it. I think we smashed it in terms of getting that vibe and it’s my favourite tune we’ve done.

S: We are both very hard working, busy people that are always up on the go floating through the city with unstoppable force - Butler soaring with his bike all around London all day and me bouncing between shows, Germany and England, music, academia and dayjob. When we experience grief or loss, life goes on, you still brush your teeth, put on the pair of jeans and bike through the city - but at the same time nothing is the same again and the memory slowly seeps into the day. That's what the music video is about.

2. Across the EP, there’s a real tension between darkness and euphoria—harsh electronic textures meet soaring, almost redemptive vocals. How do you balance those opposing forces when writing or producing together?

S: We don’t really think about that, but it’s the product of what both of us bring out of each other. Butler writes most of the instrumentals while I do the vocal melodies and lyrics. Looking at my other solo-project Atka you can tell that sweet melodic textures do come more naturally to me, so I will always gravitate towards those siren sounds drenched in reverb as I find them incredibly soothing to produce. But this band, especially this EP, allowed me to shine a torch on the spitting and roaring darkness, the anger and the frustration. It brought forth anything beyond beauty, comfort and aesthetic ideals and allowed for something more mature to emerge - I have Butlers instrumentation to thank for pushing me into that direction and discovering these facets of myself.

3. You’ve said Alive To Feel is about radical acceptance of one’s past and the shame that comes with it. How does that idea of “amor fati”—loving fate—resonate with where you are as artists now?

S: While we do take this project seriously we have tried to remove ourselves from any expectations regarding the outcome of this endeavor. It is an interesting challenge to take on - the music is deeply personal and revealing, both in its lyrics and the intensity of the performance - the tempo is fast and the vocals smatter over this mad force of instruments, there is nowhere to hide. So you may ask how you could not be protective of something that carries so much of you in it. But I believe that it is strictly because it wears it’s heart on its sleeve that you must not treat it like a product and you must not care how cringe it is or that people might not like it. It requires a complete giving up of control over its perception, as art for is never a shiny, finished object you may observe, critique and judge from all angles - but this project is a force of becoming, it’s a permission for openly being and an invitation for the ugly and embarrassing to also take centre stage at times as authentic expression and a drive to do something new takes priority over any desire for ‘coolness’ or control. That’s pretty amor fati to me.

4. Your music draws from influences like Mount Kimbie, Boy Harsher, and PVA, but there’s also a distinctly personal atmosphere rooted in overlooked places—the Midlands, post-communist small towns. How do those environments shape the world of Deep Bleak?

B: I grew up going to social clubs in the midlands with my Mum and Dad pretty much every weekend of my childhood. Those clubs are a bit knackered and rough but they have a special warmth and atmosphere to them where everyone there is just getting on with life wherever they’re at. That’s the world I’m pulling from with Deep Bleak.

5. This debut EP feels like a complete artistic statement—from the production to the visual world of the “Dancing On Broken Bottles” video. What story or emotion do you hope listeners walk away with after experiencing Deep Bleak in full?

S: First of all I hope people feel intrigued by this first introduction to our world (as there is so much more in the works to dive into) and can appreciate its aim to begin carving out a sound that is hopefully not just a repetition of things people have heard in the current indie/alternative landscape. I hope people judge it for its effort and it's heart coming from two full-time employed mates writing music late at night, in the early mornings and weekends for the mere passion of creating a sound people may have never heard before. I hope it leaves you filled with that sort of confidence that propels people into action and gets them out of lingering in their grande palace of thoughts and doubt - I want you to feel daring and filled with vigour to fully be IN this world and not look at it from the outside until it is your turn to participate. Especially if you are a woman - after listening to this manic rush that is Deep Bleak I want you to grab life by the b*lls and shoot your shot.