909originals chats to David Holmes

From his early beginnings in his native Belfast, David Holmes has always been an artist that has done things his own way – whether it be through his genre-bending artist albums, collaborations with the likes of Primal Scream and Orbital, or his soaring soundtracks for countless movies and TV series. 

His most recent long player was Blind On A Galloping Horse, which saw him team up with Raven Violet on what was arguably the finest album of 2023, while a posthumous album with Sinead O’Connor is also in the works. Boasting some 25 soundtracks to his name, he also finds the time, somehow, to be a member of the group Unloved, and curate his monthly radio show (and associated club night), God’s Waiting Room. 

On 31 January, David Holmes is set to appear as part of Big Dish Go‘s 20th anniversary celebrations, in a back-to-back set with Ivan Smagghe at Centre Point Dublin. Tickets can be purchased here.

To borrow a line from his recent track Necessary Genius, 909originals is delighted to catch up with one of Irish music’s ‘dreamers, misfits, radicals [and] outcasts’ – David Holmes.

Hi David, thanks for talking to us. You seem to be doing a few more DJ gigs these days –  certainly in the past year, there seem to be a few more of them. Would that be fair to say?

Well, yes and no. I have my club night, God’s Waiting Room, and the radio show of the same name, and the two of them sort of go hand in hand. The club nights that I do are really memorable – it’s always a great f**king night. The music’s always great, the guests are always great, and it’s always evolving.

Aside from that, I was still doing the odd gig, and then all of a sudden, I’m getting offered more gigs again. You know, there was no announcement – “Hey, I’m back DJing!” But now, I’m winding it back down again, to be honest.

This year will be nowhere near as prolific. I just want to focus on doing God’s Waiting Room and one-off shows for friends and stuff – clubs that I’m tied to. I don’t want to be DJing anywhere where I think it’s not going to be anything other than a great night, which suits the music I play.

You don’t do that many back-to-back sets either, and here you are doing a back-to-back with Ivan Smagghe on the 31st.

Actually, I did a back-to-back with Ivan at Convenanza in Carcassonne, Andrew Weatherall’s festival. And it was a lot of fun, because our minds are quite psychedelic-ised, I suppose. We play a lot of music that’s like proto-dance music – stuff that you can dance to, but it’s kind of unclassifiable. We delve into all sorts of different BPMs and all sorts of different colours, really. 

The last time I saw you play was at Beyond The Pale, and you were on after Kruder & Dorfmeister – the vibe was quite downtempo, but energised at the same time. What struck me was that you approached it with a rough direction of travel, and then there were peaks and troughs over the four-hour set. Is that kind of how you approach your DJ sets, with an open mind?

Yeah, nothing is planned at all. What I’m trying to do is play a wide selection of different dance music that has peaks and troughs and connections to each other. And also, that’s what I want to hear when I’m in a club. I want to be surprised, you know? 

So I’m trying to weave all that in and tell a story with the music, but at the same time, first and foremost, I’ve got my eye on the crowd.

And then, sometimes, you’ve just got to be a bit patient. When I played at Beyond The Pale, to tell you the truth, a lot of the younger generation probably didn’t know who I was. So I had to work to get them back. And then at some point, you look up, and we’re having a great party.

So the crowd is still an essential part of the experience for you?

I’ve been DJing since I was 14 or 15 – that’s a long time. And I’ve always done it on my own terms. 

You have to bring the crowd with you, that’s the whole point of being a DJ. I mean, it’s also about your own selection, taste, and why you choose the next record. But, generally, it’s a feeling and a relationship between you and the crowd. It just depends on how open people are to being surprised.

To me, I don’t think there’s a science to it – I do it because I love it. And after 35 years or so of doing it, you realise that you’re pretty f**king good at it.

With the likes of Spotify and other streaming platforms, so much of our musical tastes are  becoming ‘algorithmised’, if that’s even a word. But a good DJ will be able to read the crowd and take them off in an unexpected direction. Do you know what I mean?

I honestly just have my own path that I’m on. I still buy vinyl in abundance, but I also buy music digitally as well. I don’t have a preference. 

I mean, to tell you the truth, actually, I try to buy digital sometimes. If the vinyl isn’t available, I’m happy with the digital file. In many ways, it’s handier for me as a 55-year-old who’s been obsessed with music over a long period of time. There came a point where it was like, ‘Ah, so I don’t have to go and hunt record stores every day. It’s at my fingertips.’ I absolutely love that.

But on the subject of algorithms, if you’re on Bandcamp or something like that, sometimes you discover great things by being activated to little suggestions. ‘You bought this, so you might like this’. Actually, I’ve bought a lot of records like that. 

But to be honest, everyone’s different in the way they look at these things. In my case, my antennas are always up for music, whether it’s from an algorithm or not. I’m just on my own path. I don’t really care how other people do it. I don’t mean that to sound ignorant, but we’re living in a world where so much stuff just seems so f**king superficial.

I’m on my own personal trip, and doing my own thing in the best possible way I can. That’s become an important part of God’s Waiting Room – what it represents. Being a good human being, and just being open-minded.

Having some optimism in the chaos, I guess, is what you’re saying as well.

Yeah, I mean, you have to, otherwise, you would just go insane. That’s why creativity is such a wonderful thing, because it’s like therapy. It’s so cathartic. 

There were certainly lot of personal stories and personal feelings on the most recent album, Blind on a Galloping Horse. It’s kind of like a protest album, and in some ways, it’s like a therapy album. Some of the tracks are quite dark, lyrics-wise but with this upbeat synth-pop rhythm to them. Kind of like Heaven 17’s We Don’t Need That Fascist Groove Thang updated for a modern audience?

If you look back at so much protest music in the 60s and 70s, if you listen to What’s Going On, for instance, it’s such a joyful, uplifting, beautiful record. And then you dig deep and you see what the lyrics are about, and it’s actually talking about really heavy, heavy stuff. 

Obviously, I’m not comparing myself to Marvin Gaye, but there were a lot of records that were about actually saying something, but being more human rather than coming across angry. That has more of an emotional resonance, I think. You’re talking about things that are really, really serious. And it’s getting f**king worse.

That’s why I’m protesting. It’s not because I ‘hate those people over there’ or ‘those people over there’. I’m suspicious, not angry – I don’t hate the government, for example. The fact of the matter is, I want to be on the side of good, no matter what religion you are. It’s just about being human, you know?

Obviously the track which garnered the most column inches from the album was Necessary Genius. When I first heard it, it reminded me a bit of Endless Art by A House from the early 90s, which celebrated the geniuses of art who are no longer around and how art lives on.

There are lots of these so-called ‘list’ tracks. It’s not an original concept. Julian Cope did one. BP Fallon did one – I Believe In Elvis Presley.

In terms of this list, though, David – obviously it was very personal for you?

Yeah, there’s nothing on there that I don’t believe in. It’s an honest way of saying ‘I stand behind every single one of those people’, for so many different reasons as well. Humanity and creativity – and not being afraid to be a troublemaker like Sinead [O’Connor].

Obviously Sinead’s the last person name-checked on the track. Was she aware of that before she passed away?

She never heard it, but I sent her the lyrics. I actually keep a bunch of texts from Sinead that are just amazing. One of the last texts she wrote to me was, “I want the two of us to work together until one of us croaks it.” She was something else.

This year marks 25 years since Bow Down to the Exit Sign came out. Also, This Film’s Crap, Let’s Slash the Seats is 30 years old this year. On a personal level, how would you say that you’ve evolved as an artist with each passing record?

I’ve always just been obsessed with what I’m doing, and I’m open to the never-ending learning process. I feel like I still have that same obsession with music that I’ve always had. In fact, it’s just got deeper and deeper with the passing of time. 

I’ve also learned so much more about production and my own personal style and how to access different ways of working that are really creative for me. That’s been really exciting. 

I’m writing all the time, whether working on a good film or a good TV series, or collaborating with someone who’s just f**king great. Like, I mean, I’m nearly finished this album with Skymas, this local Belfast band, and it sounds f**king sick. I’m like, ‘whoa, this turned out really good’.

It’s about staying creative, staying positive, and keeping away from f**king wankers.

In terms of Irish music at the moment, what excites you? It seems like Kneecap are taking over the world, right?

Kneecap are the definition of what punk rock is at its core. They are just mind-blowing. Listen, I’m a 55-year-old man. Will I go home and listen to Kneecap? No, of course I won’t, but I went to see them live a couple of times, and they are incredible.

Also, they are the most genuine, just really f**king great lads who have a story to tell. I mean, there’s so much about Kneecap that’s tongue-in-cheek as well, but they really do not give a flying f**k. They beat the British government in a court case and then gave half the money to a community group in the Shankill and half in the Falls. They had a young rapper from the Shankill support them at the SSE. Stuff like that. That is the future of this country. 

So, I just applaud them and think they’re so important. It makes my f**king heart glow when I see them kicking off. And we’re label mates, we’re both signed to Heavenly, and that makes me happy as well.

And then, of course, you know, f**king hell, Fontaines DC – they’re just getting better and better and better. It’s frightening.

It’s amazing how quickly it’s happened for them as well in terms of just the development of their sound. It’s so much more complex now, even in just three years.

They’re obsessed – they love language, they love music. You can clearly tell they’ve got a conscience. They also don’t give a f**k what anyone thinks, and it’s brilliant.

It’s a really great time for Irish music, and I think it’s going to get better and better, especially with the way the world is right now. Ireland has been way better than most countries – we’ve actually turned up and showed our support for Palestine, no matter what the consequences. I’m really f**king proud of that, both as an artist and as a person. 

This country has so much f**king grit – people in it who aren’t afraid to wear their heart on their sleeve. It’s great to be a part of that, and feel a part of that.

To finish, when is the Sinead album coming out? Do you have a date for that?

Yes, well, that’s another story. It’s not really in my hands. Of course the whole world wants to hear it, and I hope people get to hear it as soon as possible.

Main photo by Steve Gullick. David Holmes goes back to back with Ivan Smagghe on 31 January for Big Dish Go at Centre Point. Tickets available here.

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