Static Dress let it bleed

Hundreds of thousands of eyeballs are glued to screens, hunting for clues to the band’s second album, which, after five months of teasing, drops this Friday. Of course, some lucky fans managed to sneak a peek at injury episode by solving a cryptic mini-game. Winners were invited to an abandoned theatre, somewhere in central London, for a private screening of a self-directed short film. According to reports, the line to get in was a maze in itself. 

Clearly, Static Dress are good at this music business. Tourmates with Motionless in White and Knocked Loose, recipients of a Heavy Music Award, they’re easily the most popular band from Leeds since Yard Act. With the strong push behind injury episode, they could join Bring Me The Horizon, Sleep Token, and Loathe as the biggest rock bands in the UK. Having seen the machine work up close and personal, they know how to turn the gears in their favour. No wonder bandleader Olli Appleyard is so appalled. 

“The way that people consume art nowadays is so destructive. It destroys the music. It destroys people,” he tells me. When we speak over the phone, Appleyard and his three bandmates are being whipped around New York City hours before the first of two in-store performances. It’s the kind of exclusive event artists coordinate with their PR teams to beat the algorithm and spread FOMO online. Except Static Dress banned cameras and phones from the guest list. When scrolling Instagram the next morning, the only reel I see shows them with their backs turned while kids mob the stage.

“We’re really trying to get back to basics,” Appleyard explains. “This is something we wanted to do for a long time. Word of mouth is stronger than ever. Without their phones or cameras, all people can do is talk about the record.”

After Static Dress first broke news feeds in 2019, all anyone could talk about were memories from 20 years ago. With a black-and-white wardrobe and dye jobs that deserved the cover of Hot Topic’s mailorder catalogue, the band was widely associated with Gen Z’s Myspace revival. However, press are still splitting hairs over where they belonged in the scene. During the rollout for injury episode, they’ve been called post-hardcore, metalcore, screamo, alt rock, alt-pop, and simply alt. So which is it?    

“I disagree with the revival tag,” Appleyard says, settling the debate. “The only thing we are is an emo band. We want to make music that’s emotional, intense, and as dramatic as it can possibly be.” 

While intended for more mature audiences, injury episode doesn’t skimp on drama. Like a classic noir, the album opens mid-downpour, replaying the famous last words from Static Dress’ major label debut, “So close to being free, why would I stop now?” Just don't go in expecting a shot-for-shot remake. “It’s a lot darker,” Appleyard says in reference to its visual cues. “I wanted to bring in the sepia tone of a film like Batman Begins. It gives off this horrible dynamic that really shines through.” Once a permanent fixture, the band’s lime green wallpapering has been replaced by granite columns and marble tile. Even their trademark handcam is toned down. In the video for “human props”, flash bulbs pop against soft oppressive lighting, an effect that contrasts nicely with the seamless transition between Story of the Year at their absolute fieriest and the drowning despair of Portishead.  

“I don’t want to lose our identity,” Appleyard clarifies. “Using CRT and handcam footage made us stand out. But I don’t want that to be our brand forever. I want everything to keep moving forward.”

Like any worthwhile sequel, injury episode ups the ante. In returning to the scene of the crime from Rouge Carpet Disaster, Static Dress discover Hotel Disdain has claimed two more victims. Celebrity twins Sarah and Maeve are literally chased to death by paparazzi (that’s them pictured on the album’s cover, in clear distress moments before their limo crashes). Despite my prying, Appleyard won’t give us the whole scoop. As of this writing, the tracklist is still largely under wraps. More details will emerge after the album comes out. But as for the band’s role in its sordid affair, he doesn’t withhold any secrets. 

“To be honest, at times, it’s pretty hellish,” Appleyard answers when questioned about working within the industry at-large. Before anyone twists his words, let’s be clear: Static Dress don’t take their success for granted. Signing with Roadrunner and now Sumerian presents plenty of perks (like, say, a tour with Poppy?). But given how fast their font size has grown on festival posters, the band are wise to exercise caution. “We’ve seen how fame and celebrity affects and destroys the lives of people we now consider our peers. As much as it’s great, there is a really ugly side to it as well.” Dishonest journos, piggish execs, and other shady inside men are brought to light during injury episode. “There are a lot of callouts on this record,” he says. Funnily enough, Appleyard has the copycats to thank for inspiring “the best song we’ve ever written.” Crafted with equal parts grace and guile, “dull blade disguise” rips away the veneer of artists who’ve followed them too closely. 

“We’ve constantly had our style bitten,” Appleyard vents. “I create for myself because I enjoy it, but there are people who take from us to survive because they’re inauthentic. They act like friends, but the second they’re not taking from us anymore, they’re no longer hitting us up. We’ve dealt with a lot of people in the music industry who’ve used us.”

Bad actors behind the scenes aren’t the only ones at fault on injury episode. Static Dress raise issue with today’s assembly-line production. “We’re making robot music,” Appleyard says. “No one is coming up with anything new or original. Everyone’s just getting lower and lower in tuning. It’s gotten to the point where guitars sound like machines.” In splitting with this trend, Static Dress refused to entertain any studio trickery. The album wasn’t played to a grid or overdubbed to death, making it impossible to recreate live without backing tracks. Often, songs were recorded in single takes. “When people refer to us as nostalgic, I think they’re just remembering when alternative music sounded like it was made by real people.” For some older millennials, featuring Underoath recalls the raging hormones of Christian summer camp (okay, maybe that’s just me talking), but “Nostalgia Kills” severs all ties to the past. Riding the rails between math rock, mallcore, and nu-metal, it’s a thrilling ride that ends with the biggest breakdown of either band’s career.  

“That song covers everything on injury episode,” Appleyard says with fondness. “We didn’t want to make an album that sounds the same all the way through.” 

After living with injury episode for a month, I can confidently claim that it beats Rouge Carpet Disaster across the board. You can tell this is the first album to feature songwriting contributions from everyone in Static Dress. George Holding greases his bass lines with enough sleaze for the dance floor. During the rare moments of quiet, Sam Ogden hammers his drums like a diamond jeweler. Vincent Weight would struggle to hide behind the mass appeal of these riffs. “This time around, it was the four of us in a room developing ideas together and that authentic feel comes through in the music,” says Appleyard, whose hostile screams are complimented by emboldened cleans. Accompanied by strings that quiver like a tear-stained veil, his fearless performance pushes “hospice” to spectacular highs not reached since The Black Parade. 

But injury episode doesn’t come without risk. I won’t disagree with critics who will undoubtedly rush to the conclusion that Static Dress have made their “difficult” second album. It’s packed with memorable hooks, but you might miss them without going back and listening all the way through again. Failing to do so defeats the point. By not complying with standard verse-chorus formula, the band are weaning us off the instant gratification that we’ve grown so hopelessly accustomed to now. Still, in the back of his mind, does Appleyard worry that our attention spans aren’t up to the test? 

“There are no cheap wins,” he assures. “This album really taught me patience. If you rush, you’re never going to get something that’s as good.” His realisation presents our conversation with a fitting conclusion. After all, injury episode doesn’t arrive at a clear resolution. While writing for this album, memories resurfaced that newfound fame conditioned him to suppress. 

“I hope there are people who will find comfort in that,” Appleyard reflects on how he’s still treading through those welled-up emotions. “Not everyone is going to love this album, but those who do will love it for a very long time.”