Interview: A.A. Williams

Following global tours with Cult of Luna, Explosions in the Sky, Sleep Token, Russian Circles and The Sisters of Mercy,  the classically trained multi-instrumentalist A.A. Williams arrives at Control on March 5 as a headliner in her own right, with Faunlet opening the night.

Haunting and heavy in equal measure, her music sits at the crossroads of post-rock, doom metal and atmospheric folk, leaning into vulnerability with striking poetic depth. Some songs feel like odes to the darkness within, her voice unfolding as both confession and companion.

Your first live appearance came off the back of the self-titled EP and landed at Roadburn Festival. What did that night teach you about what your songs are once they leave the studio?

Frankly, it just showed me that people liked what I’d done enough to be curious enough to see it live. At that point I only had a 4-track EP out, but it had garnered enough interest that the room was full that day. I was really surprised, but it gave me a confidence boost that helped me justify making this music and kick-started me to prioritise it.

You’ve toured with a pretty unusual cross-section, including Cult of Luna, Explosions in the Sky, Russian Circles, Sleep Token, and The Sisters of Mercy. What have you borrowed from other artists’ touring disciplines? Whose routine or mindset quietly changed the way you work?

I think the main thing was to have confidence in your own music and to perform with intention. When you’re working with other bands on tours, generally you’re each just getting on with your own show. Sometimes you don’t have a huge amount of contact with each other, and it’s just about doing your part as smoothly and well as possible because the whole show will be better for it.

When you’re writing, what arrives first most often? What’s the quickest way to tell if you’re forcing a song rather than discovering it? 

I never force a song. Sometimes something takes longer than usual though, but if I can see good potential in it then I’ll persevere for as long as it takes. If you test lots of different permutations of a section to make sure you’re making the right choices, but keep coming back to a particular version, then you’re probably doing good work and came up with a solid starting point.

To me it’s so important to make sure that each part of a song really is as good as it can be. For me that means trying alternatives to make sure I’ve not missed something better. I remember the chorus of Melt took me absolutely ages, but it wasn’t about forcing it, it was about refining it as best as I could to make sure it was doing everything I wanted it to.

Looking back, what did your debut album Forever Blue teach you about your own thresholds? What you can say cleanly in a song, and what has to be implied through atmosphere?

There’s a balance to be struck between overtly explaining something in text and the subtlety that comes with implication through other means. There’s nothing I can’t or don’t want to say in my songs, but it can definitely be more effective to suggest something rather than to be too blunt.

There’s a great delicacy in restraining oneself as an artist, and a whole amount of time and effort spent deciding how you’ll present an idea. Sometimes just “saying it as it is” works perfectly, but other times there needs to be more consideration to get the message across fully.

Your string reimagining project arco is more than “songs but with strings.” What did you learn about your own writing when you removed rock instrumentation and made the arrangement carry the narrative for strings? 

I knew it was going to work. I was a professional string arranger before beginning to make my own music, so it was just a case of deconstructing material in the same way I’d done for clients in the past.

I don’t think it taught me anything about my own songs that I didn’t already know, but it was a lot of fun and a real labour of love. That kind of work isn’t quick, and I really wanted to make sure that I was carrying through as many of the original song elements as possible in the arrangements.

The lockdown covers release Songs From Isolation drew praise from people like Robert Smith and Billy Corgan. How do you choose covers? 

You can thank my fans for the Songs From Isolation track listing. They were chosen by them online. I started with a cover of Creep, and in the comments loads of people started suggesting other songs for me to try. So I chose the next one from that list and asked for more suggestions. That process continued for about two months.

If you could do a “companion piece” with any artist outside your usual orbit (say an electronic producer, a composer, or even a filmmaker), what would the brief be?

I think a short film would be cool. I have all of these ideas in my mind for music videos, mainly ones that focus on particular aesthetics rather than narratives, visual accompaniments to sound.

Writing new music that leans into a more minimal and electronic space, combined with some of my favourite visual textures, would be a really lovely project.

Recently, you’ve entered a new phase via Reigning Phoenix Music and have been releasing singles that feel like a tonal pivot. What did you want to reset?

It wasn’t about a reset as such. My old contract ended and I found a new home with Reigning Phoenix. Musically I’ve been exploring elements that I’ve not had the chance to up until now. It’s more of a development of existing intention than a pivot.

You’ve headlined venues like Queen Elizabeth Hall at Southbank Centre. How do you adapt the show for a seated, reverent room versus a standing, sweat-and-feedback room like Control Club?

The show itself doesn’t really change, but your approach to the performance can. In a seated, more formal venue you might perform with more focus on grace and restraint, making your musical marks with intention.

In a rock club you might perform with freer energy, letting the music engulf you in a different way and becoming more physical. Every night you care about your show and try to perform to the best of your ability, but your relationship with the music can change depending on the space.

You’ve spoken about having a long-haired dachshund. On tour, what does your dog represent to you?

He represents home, and all the comfort and safety there is there. I miss him hugely when I’m away.