The Jacques on Rebirth, Resistance, and ‘Dead Man’s Garden

Since The Jacques debuted, the band has seen it all: the highs of Glastonbury stages and sold-out New York gigs, and the lows of personal loss and near creative collapse. Now, with the shimmering, shadow-drenched new single Dead Man’s Garden, they return not just intact—but creatively reinvigorated. Inspired by the neglected garden of a late neighbour and layered with gothic organs and Latin chants, the track finds strange joy in decay, swinging between heavy themes and anthemic optimism.

It’s the second offering from upcoming album Make Repetition!, due out July 11th, and a poignant glimpse into a band who’ve learned to dance with darkness. The Jacques sat down with us to talk death, defiance, psychiatric recovery, and why there’s always hope buried in their songs.

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FAULT Magazine: ‘Dead Man’s Garden’ explores the contrast between life and death in a uniquely poetic way. How did you approach translating such a heavy theme into something musically uplifting?

The Jacques: Honestly it felt quite light-hearted to me. Maybe I think about death too much. It still scares me, but I think it’s such a prevalent feature in my day-to-day musings that it’s kind of a familiar concept now. I think often our chirpier pieces of music are born from morbid little ideas. But then I think about an old man passing away in his sleep and to me there’s nothing dark about that. It’s natural. The lyric does express some confusion around it though; it says ‘when it blooms how should I feel?’ I think it’s dealing with an element of guilt around seeing the beauty in something that’s ultimately the result of a death. I don’t know. Van Gogh painted his most vibrant paintings when he was at his most depressed. Maybe it’s something we do; maybe we’re just all trying to cheer ourselves up.

FAULT Magazine: You mentioned that the song was inspired by your late neighbour’s overgrown garden. How do personal experiences like this shape your songwriting, and do you find it cathartic?

The Jacques: Personal experiences might surface in the form of a lyric or two, though usually when I do that I make it quite cryptic. There’s always been a lot of talk about how you should write from experience. I love Toni Morrison’s response to that: “don’t write about your little life!” Make something up. Be imaginative. If all our lyrics were about ourselves, they’d be so boring. I think I write lyrics to get away from my “little life” rather than to illustrate or make sense of it. Obviously, there is some of my experience in there. But usually it’s more reflective of me getting lost in a made-up, abstract world.

FAULT Magazine: The new album is titled ‘Make Repetition!’—how does the idea of repetition play into your creative process? Do you find yourself drawn to recurring themes or musical motifs?
The Jacques: I’m always quite proud of how our band sounds so original and distinctive, but in some ways I also see this whole project as a big pastiche. We mimic genres, our music is full of allusions to something else; and I think that’s what people do, we mimic, we make repetition. I’ve been told by other people that when they are talking to me I am copying their facial expressions, mouthing their words. That just means I’m a good ape. Aside from that kind of repetition, to answer the second part of the question; I do find myself constantly returning to Biblical and otherwise religious or spiritual imagery. We actually have backing vocals buried deep in this track which I sung in Google-translated Latin because we felt it was calling for something monastic. Also, images involving fertility, gestation, birth and rebirth. But that’s probably a whole different topic of discussion.

FAULT Magazine: What’s a moment during the making of ‘Make Repetition!’ that really challenged you creatively? How did you push through it?

The Jacques: Well, I ended up in a psychiatric hospital. I’d pretty much given up on the album by that point. But when I was in there I was so bored that I just decided to take up making things again. It was like being in prison, there was nothing to do. So after a while I started doing some drawings and then playing some guitar. I think I realised I lost my whole character when I stopped making music. It’s not really an option for me to give it up. When I got out we pretty much got straight to it and finished off the album. It was amazing, actually, realising that I did have it in me to be creative again. Before, I fully believed I was all spent of ideas. So that was really hard. But it taught me a great deal about myself as an artist. Mainly that I am one, whether I like it or not; I can’t really help needing this stuff. And also that it’s really worth doing.

FAULT Magazine: If there’s one emotion or message you hope listeners take away from ‘Dead Man’s Garden’ and the new album as a whole, what would it be?
The Jacques: Hope! I think our songs are really hopeful. They are all products of dark and uncomfortable notions or feelings but they show that something worthwhile can come from that initial point of bewilderment and pain. Also, if I may add a second answer: love. There is a lot of love in this band, for each other and for the act of making music together. Anything we make is a product of that, and we hope it can be heard in all our records. We’ve come through some pretty tough stuff as a band; losing our bass player and best friend Will in 2019, and then the stuff that led to me going into hospital last year; so I guess this album is kind of about us saying ‘we’re still here!’ and showing anyone who will listen what we are capable of.

FAULT Magazine: Touring with Public Image Ltd. is a huge moment. Has working with a band as influential as PiL changed how you see your own music or live performances?
The Jacques: I’m genuinely quite interested to see what John Lydon will make of it. He’s a guy who knows what he likes and won’t be influenced by what’s popular in any given moment, which makes his seal of approval quite appealing. But who knows. When we play a good show, we give it everything and it’s fucking amazing. So that’s what we’d better do!

FAULT Magazine: What is your FAULT?
The Jacques: Defiance. I have a serious problem with even light suggestions and it causes some big real-life problems. My first word when I was a baby was ‘no’ and it was pretty apt. But I’m not saying this is some cool punk attribute of mine. It’s genuinely an issue when someone’s telling you how to make a certain pasta sauce for example, and you just can’t see that their instructions might be worth following. It’s boring for everyone else. I mean honestly, two or more people agree on something and I have to inspect it critically. It’s exhausting. The worst part is, I think I’ve only just noticed!