Knats and the clattering metronome of the Tyne

I take a minute to position myself between the dark melody and tight vocal lines, hearing him next describe a man “like that gleam of Arthur”, and associating his epic narration with thoughts of the Arthurian legend — kings and swords set in stones. On a second listen, however, I realise I’ve missed the point almost entirely, and that Cooper is actually saying “like that meme of Arthur” — as in “hey, hey! It’s a beautiful kind of day” Arthur — and I’m forced to break into a smile and warn myself not to make any assumptions about what I’m about to hear.

For their debut record, best friends and multi-instrumentalists Stanley Elvis Woodward (bass), King David Ike-Eleh (drums) and Ferg Kilsby (trumpet) decided they wanted to “transcend” jazz fundamentals and layer their album with a verbal ode to Newcastle. This is a challenge that Cooper certainly rises to, in his opening verse boasting both poetic and humorous details like “the type of street you wouldn’t clock on Strava” and “the type of Billy Elliot to wear a ballet-clava”; the rhymes almost always feed off regional dialect, instantly proving that this is the kind of sound that couldn’t be made without the fabric of the North East woven into its very heart.

That first track is called “7 Brides to Burn”, in no discreet reference to the seven bridges over the River Tyne. Featuring a composition from Josh Mitchell-Rayner and what the boys describe as undertones of “Geordie Noir”, we’re brought into a world of Newcastle’s finest — of “Shearer” and “Crasta Crags” and “Howay the lads”.

“I knew Cooper from being out and about in Newcastle and he was always boogying at shows,” Woodward goes on to explain. “I heard him doing poetry and had the idea to make it a concept album. I really liked the idea of a classical, Rachmaninoff-esque romantic thing to open the record, but then with a Geordie narrating it. So that’s why we have this kind of monologue at the top. I think telling the story of songs that don’t have words actually makes it much more accessible.”

Both Woodward and Ike-Eleh are only in their twenties, but have been jamming together since their time at high school together. “We always wanted to do something musical,” Ike-Eleh adds. “We used to play reggae at a community building in the West End, and then it was indie and metal, and finally jazz. To begin with we were just clutching at straws, really. All we knew was that we wanted to play.”

The pair then went from bedroom jamming to forming a band and creating what they intended to be “a 45-minute epic”. The result is nothing short of that, and somehow has the feel of a musical, where the sonic narrative is so precisely crafted that it guides you through its totality, moving through soundtracks that could equally match amorous embraces or the slow throwing of fists in a local dancehall.

The record’s second track, “Gainsborough Grove”, for example, contains showbiz-esque brass sections that bleed into jazz improvisations. Ike-Eleh's driving drum beats and spluttering rhythms aid the song in its swelling and choking before a final return to harmony with Robson, whose voice has now become an instrument in itself, punctuating the music — sometimes as a metronome, and at other times breaking dramatically free.

Knats therefore have that true essence of a “big band” that can only really be achieved through collaboration. Their trumpet player, Ferg Kilsby, is another local addition. “I’d been playing for six years and then one day, out of the blue, when I was revising for my GCSEs, I got a message on Instagram from the boys saying that they were looking for a horn player," he tells me. "I was nervous to join them at first but then we met up and the rest is history.”

Woodward tells the story a little differently, however. “We didn’t have many people to play with in Newcastle because it’s such a small community. But we came across a community project on YouTube called Jam Bone. And there was this young kid in a Russian hat playing a solo to ‘Walking in the Air’, and we knew we had to try and find him.”

The band also found inspiration – and later production assistance – from Geordie Greep of Black Midi. Ike-Eleh explains, “I’d been a massive fan of Black Midi for years, and I’d followed Geordie’s personal account. Then one day I got a message saying we should have a jam. I think we pretty quickly formed a musical connection and friendship where we could communicate together, and then when he started to do solo shows, we would ask to support him. As that continued, he offered to help produce the album, which was unbelievably valuable.”

Greep contributes significantly to one of the album’s climactic singles, “Wor Jackie”, a song that tells the story of a pitman, inspired partly by the Geordie footballer Jackie Milburn (known for splitting his time between the coal mines and the pitch), and also by Stan’s grandad, who was a pitman himself. When asked why they landed thematically on an era outside of their lifetime, Knats explain: “On the one hand we’re really inspired by film noir and the films that represent that period of time. But having not lived there for four years, we’re also really nostalgic about Newcastle. And in terms of the miners, it’s an important part of our history that we shouldn’t move on from.”

“Wor Jackie” leads straight into “Messy-In”, a clever pun on the chaos of a night out and the French composer Messiaen, proving that as well as discussing regional politics, Stan and King aren’t scared of a good joke or a classical reference.

“None of us have a background in classical music,” Woodward explains. “We’re just fascinated by it. And I don’t think you need to be an expert on classical music to get what you need from it, especially on an emotional level.”

“There was one time writing where I wanted to set myself some boundaries, because I think when you limit yourself it can produce interesting results. I’d been checking out Messiaen, who in short terms devised seven scales called modes of limited transposition, which are three- or four-note patterns that you can transpose symmetrically. I started taking these modes and writing songs specifically within them, which produced some really interesting material.”

The harmonic aspect of these modes has a resulting impact on the overall tone of the project. “Messiaen’s music is quite harmonically ambiguous. It’s obviously very modal, and I think I wanted to write music that was more ambiguous in emotional tone – not happy, not sad, just somewhere in the middle.”

The record ends with Cooper asking, “what does it mean to trudge through conditions like these?”, and while we presume he’s mainly talking about the pitmen, it does feel like he’s making a greater statement on masculinity as a whole.

“Me and King have always grown up around violence and substance abuse, whether that be friends or relatives. We wanted to end on the idea that it’s not always fair to claim someone is wrong for doing something bad, because not everybody is born into the same situation. Toxic masculinity in working-class areas, for young lads born into a rough environment, can be part of the culture even if it’s not part of the personality. That’s why we have songs like ‘Bigg Market Scrappa’ and ‘Never Gonna Be a Boxer’.”

I end our conversation by asking the boys what “a great day in Newcastle” might look like to them?

Woodward: “I’d get up nice and early, go for lunch, maybe have a little walk along the Quayside. It’d be a nice day where you see the bridge, see everything beautiful, and then go for drinks.”

Ike-Eleh: “It’s that community aspect, seeing some friends. It always feels euphoric being back in Newcastle… there’s a true sense of nostalgia whenever you go back.”