Nightshift, the Glasgow-based post-punk collective, carved a unique path to create their sophomore album, Zöe, amidst the global lockdown. Formed in 2019, the band—David Campbell (guitar), Andrew Doig (bass), Eothen Stearn (keyboards/vocals), and Chris White (drums), later joined by Georgia Harris (guitar/vocals/clarinet)—are known for their restrained yet powerful sound, DIY ethos, and experimental approach, reminiscent of artists like Richard Youngs. While their self-titled debut was born from live rehearsal sessions, Zöe took shape remotely, with each member contributing their parts from home. In this exclusive song-by-song breakdown, Nightshift unveils the intricate process behind each of the album’s ten tracks, offering insights into their creative minds and collaborative spirit.
Piece Together
Eothen Stearn: Piece Together plays on the duality of “peace” and “piece,” exploring themes of macro and micro perspectives and the act of assembling disparate elements. For me, it’s rooted in personal experiences with dyslexia and word formation, but also about piecing together fragments of sentences into a larger narrative, reflecting the essence of writing itself. The song ultimately questions the failed promises of Neo-age and 70s hippy radical left ideologies and their absorption into the mainstream. It delves into the complexities of liberalism and the gradual mobilization of the left, observing cycles of radicalism and co-option.
Spray Paint The Bridge
ES: The line “Spray paint the bridge” originated from Chris, and I built the lyrics around it. The bridge became symbolic – a bridge in a song, but also a metaphorical journey.
Andrew Doig: This track, along with Power Cut, existed before lockdown. I was initially unsure if we could recapture their energy and translate them into our remote working method, as they felt more traditionally “song-like.” I was happily proven wrong! This version is powerful, and the clarinet part is truly exceptional.
Chris White: This song began in our rehearsal space, much like many tracks on our first release. Eothen often drew lyrical inspiration from random notes in my phone. This prompted me to try lyric writing myself. For this song, I suggested “Spray paint the bridge” and a few other lines as starting points. It’s a continuation of themes from our song Flat Earther. In Scotland, we often see humorous flat earth graffiti on signs and bridges. This line nods to those artists but also to graffiti artists in general, creating art in challenging, public spaces.
Outta Space
Georgia Harris: This song grew from a quirky, eerie bass loop created by Andrew. I was immediately drawn to it and started singing over it, recording the vocals quickly and adding clarinet later. It was the first time I’d recorded vocals in years, which felt a bit vulnerable, but it all came together beautifully with Chris and Eothen’s drums, keys, and effects. Recorded during strict lockdown, my world had shrunk dramatically. I used a large rug in my living room as my “island” studio, where I recorded and kept all my gear. It was a strange but comforting way to carve out a creative space.
Nightshift’s Andrew Doig reflects on the unique, unprecedented process of creating their album remotely.
Make Kin
ES: Make Kin explores kinship as a means to engage with intertwined environmental and reproductive issues. It’s about embracing connections beyond bloodlines, societal expectations, and the control and ownership of women’s bodies. It celebrates kith, kinship, and the bonds of friendship – how a band itself embodies a form of kinship.
Fences
AD: My vocals and bassline are built upon a captivating guitar loop from Georgia. An extended version of this song exists, which might surface on a rarities compilation later. I recall working on my parts early in the lockdown, navigating uncharted territory in our creative process. Singing wasn’t initially a primary role I envisioned for myself in Nightshift, given our other strong vocalists. But without predefined expectations, I simply started singing. The challenge now will be figuring out how to replicate this live!
Power Cut
ES: The lyrics for Power Cut stemmed from a real power outage I experienced in Marseille during a three-month artist residency in winter 2019. The electricity was unreliable, and fixing it wasn’t straightforward. I had to seek help from my neighbor, a kind older man in his dressing gown. Communication was difficult as my French vocabulary lacked electrical precision. Eventually, I was left alone in the dark with candles, feeling the shapes of the room as my eyes adjusted.
This experience sparked reflection on my dependence on power, technology, and carbon consumption. My phone died, and I began thinking about grid systems, potential collapses, hippy utopias, and climate activism. Blackouts, green economies, and the desire to live off-grid filled my thoughts, highlighting my entrapment within urban infrastructure. My mother, a gardener, possesses a wealth of inherited practical knowledge that I haven’t retained, despite working in climate action in the city. This technological reliance often frustrates me.
I once visited Slab City near Joshua Tree, while working for an artist, and saw people living off-grid in geodesic domes—a Buckminster Fuller-esque societal petri dish with radical hippies juxtaposed against a large marine base. These contrasting ideas flowed into the song. It explores the aspiration to create a life independent of the state and to find freedom.
The power cut also became a metaphor for the sense of powerlessness in 2020, encompassing death, light, hope, energy, and flow. I was deeply missing family and friends, recalling childhood memories of nature.
Dave contributed a fantastic “waterfall guitar” riff, which harmonized beautifully with the keys. The building drums and Georgia’s clarinet accentuated the feelings of nostalgia and optimism.
Infinity Winner
AD: Lyrically, this song captures a weekend last summer when my mother was hospitalized. I was at her apartment in Troon, Scotland, trying to understand the situation over the phone. Lockdown restrictions were still in place, and the band was intensely editing the album via WhatsApp, which was both exciting and anxiety-inducing. The weather was pleasant, but the world felt chaotic. I felt a sense of madness, culminating in my mum’s TV breaking down – a darkly humorous confirmation of the surreal events unfolding. The song evolved from a beautiful loop David sent. It’s an unusual track, but one I appreciate.
Eothen of Nightshift in a contemplative pose
Romantic Mud
ES: The lyrics for Romantic Mud came to me while running. I repeatedly saw a man doing a crossword puzzle surrounded by blooming wild garlic. It made me contemplate foraging, the passage of time, and the rich, unknown inner lives of individuals. There’s another story regarding the guitar parts, which the others can elaborate on! Dave and I recorded our guitar parts asynchronously. Due to the remote recording process, this happened organically. My guitar part didn’t end up as initially intended, but it evolved into something new that resonated with the others, so it stayed. The slightly off-kilter guitars felt fitting, as if we were collectively wading through mud.
Zöe
ES: Zöe is inspired by Rosi Braidotti’s concept from her book The Posthuman, a contemporary interpretation of Spinoza’s philosophy. Essentially, Zöe, derived from “conatus,” signifies “life drive.” We considered naming the album “Conatus” but felt it might be too pretentious. “Conatus” is defined as “an innate inclination of a thing to continue to exist and enhance itself.” The Posthuman explores complexities of mediated societies, genetically modified food, advanced prosthetics, robotics, and reproductive technologies, examining planetary sustainability amidst market economies that profit from controlling life itself.
Zöe opposes this commodification. Braidotti’s concept reclaims the communal public in a feminist context, advocating for anti-privatization and striving for social and environmental justice. Zöe became a character embodying this striving for me during songwriting.
The album also carries a sense of nostalgia, created during a time of widespread photo flashbacks, self-reflection, re-evaluations, and future projections. It questions current ways of living and imagines new possibilities. Zöe represents a desire to persevere despite adversity, a life force not limited to physical bodies. It’s a drive present in even the smallest creature, compelling them to continue.
This resonated with the collective grief we experienced during the year of the album’s creation. But it also embodies a powerful force, echoing the strength of solidarity and collective action. That’s the lyrical story behind Zöe.
GH: Zöe felt complete by the time it reached me, so I aimed for minimal melodic additions. Inspired by improvised percussion like Tall Dwarfs, I experimented with bottles, pots, pans, and containers to find the right sounds, much to my partner’s annoyance as he was working from home! He had to investigate the commotion!
Receipts
GH: This song originated from one of David’s beautiful, delicate guitar loops. As with all the tracks on this album, it was fascinating to witness the song evolve and expand layer by layer. While born out of necessity, this process was incredibly enjoyable! As usual, I listened to the loop repeatedly and spontaneously sang along without a specific intention. This iterative, improvisational approach is fun and freeing for me, whereas “writing” lyrics feels forced and stressful. I prefer listeners to interpret the lyrics in their own way. The most enjoyable part was adding a touch of slide guitar – I was thrilled to finally use it, as it often sits unused. Also, despite my love for acoustic guitar, it likely wouldn’t have featured on the album if we had recorded in a traditional studio setting, as I primarily play acoustic at home.
