The Creative Journey Behind Mazmere’s ‘David’ Release

Mazmere spent years pulling ‘David’ apart and putting it back together, never quite trusting it was finished. What changed was that the song stopped resisting him. Released on David’s birthday instead of the anniversary of his death, the track sits alongside three others built with longtime collaborators H.A. Eugene, Amyas Varcoe, Ian Evans, and Rob James.

Below, Mazmere talks about handing something this personal to people he trusts, why grief doesn’t move in straight lines, and why he doesn’t think a song is ever really finished.

“David” is a song you’ve been working on for years, pulling it apart, putting it back together, never quite trusting it was done. What was it that finally made this version feel right? Was there a specific moment, or did it just stop asking to be changed?

David was one of those songs that never seemed to settle. Every time I thought it was finished, something about it felt unresolved. I think that’s partly because it wasn’t just a song; it was tied up with memory, grief, and my relationship with David.

What finally made this version feel right wasn’t some dramatic moment. It was more than the song stopped resisting. Working with Amyas Varcoe, Ian Evans, and H.A. Eugene helped because they heard the song differently than I did. I’d been living inside it for years and couldn’t always see what was actually there. At a certain point, I realised I wasn’t improving it anymore; I was circling it. That’s when I knew it was time to let it go.

There’s something unusual about releasing music on someone’s birthday rather than the anniversary of their death. Was that a conscious choice, and what does it mean to you to mark the day they arrived rather than the day they left?

That was very deliberate. Anniversaries of death can sometimes pull everything towards loss or something in negative space. I wanted to focus on David’s existence rather than his absence.

A birthday feels like a celebration of the fact that he was here at all. It’s a way of remembering the impact he had rather than simply marking the point at which he left. Releasing it on his birthday felt more hopeful and more in permanent movement somehow.

You describe these four tracks as not having been planned to sit together, yet they clearly belong to the same space. How do you recognise that kind of coherence in your own work? Is it something you feel while making it, or only after?

When I’m making something, I’m often following instinct rather than trying to fit it into something.

I realised they were all circling similar themes of memory, absence, connection, and the way people continue to exist in our lives after they’re gone. “I Can’t Hear You” is about the obvious but also about missing an internal part of myself that I used to fear and fight away; now that it’s mostly settled, I can see the beauty in it that I couldn’t before.

I think some of that coherence also comes from the people involved. I’ve been fortunate to work with many of the same collaborators over long periods of time. H.A. Eugene and Amyas both played in various incarnations of Anderson Congress, Ian Evans has been a long-term collaborator within Mazmere, and Rob James brought his own voice and sensibility. That continues beyond this release as well, with a few of these songs appearing in some form on the upcoming Mazmere album; certainly David and Run will.

Working with H.A. Eugene of Business 80 on ‘David,’ how do you hand a song that personal to someone else? What does the producer’s role look like when the material is that close to you?

Handing a song like that to someone else is all about trust. The reason I was comfortable doing that is that H.A. Eugene and Amyas aren’t outsiders to this music.

Our relationships matter because they understand where a lot of these songs come from. They know my references, my mind, and the emotional field I’m working in.

The producer’s role wasn’t to make the song bigger or more polished. It was to help uncover things I couldn’t hear anymore because I’d been living with the song for so long.

The Business 80 reimagining closes the release by dismantling ‘David’ and rebuilding it into something dreamlike. Hearing someone else pull apart something so intimate- what was that like to listen to for the first time?

It’s interesting, again, Business 80 weren’t approaching the song as strangers. We’ve got years of shared time together, so I trusted them to do something different with it.

The Business 80 version revealed aspects of the song I’d never considered. It felt like somebody taking familiar material and looking at it through completely different eyes, well, I suppose that is exactly what it was…. Something was moving about hearing them respond to the song rather than reinterpret it.

Including the live recording of “Run” as a way of documenting what Rob James brought to the room – was that decision made quickly, or did it take time to feel right? What did you want people to hear in his playing?

What I wanted people to hear wasn’t just Rob’s playing but the relationships within the room. Music hasn’t always been especially collaborative for me, and I wanted to point out that this was special. Ian Evans has been a long-term collaborator within Mazmere and has helped shape the sound of the project over time. Rob brought his own presence and character to that performance, and the recording captures us responding to one another in a way I hadn’t felt with others.

Those kinds of interactions are often where the most interesting things happen. It’s not about us as individuals; it’s what emerged between us

Mazmere is described as a space to chase something “more uncertain, more human, and sometimes a little unsettling.” Do you think grief and that kind of sonic uncertainty are naturally connected for you, or is that a coincidence of this particular release?

I think they’re connected for me. Grief changes the way you understand the world. Things that once felt solid become less certain. I mean the first Mazmere album is called “MBJDEBNRBM” because those are the initials of people I have lost to mental health-related deaths. So yeah, it’s connected to me.

I’ve always been drawn to music that leaves space for your thoughts. Not because it’s obscure, but because life often bounces and splinters without resolving quickly, it gives me the space to think through that. Grief certainly doesn’t move in a straight line. The more uncertain elements of Mazmere probably come from trying to be honest about that.

You mention that a different version of “I Can’t Hear You” may appear on an upcoming Mazmere release alongside “David” and “Run.” Does that mean these songs aren’t finished yet, or that they have more than one life?

I don’t really believe songs are ever finished. They’re just released. Some songs seem to contain multiple possibilities. Different arrangements can reveal different aspects of them. The version of ‘I Can’t Hear You’ on this release belongs to a particular moment, but that doesn’t mean it’s the only version. I like the idea that songs can have more than one life.

You built Mazmere after years of working with other projects. How do you write differently when it’s only your name on it, is there more freedom, more exposure, or both?

It’s both more freeing and more exposing. Mazmere exists under my name, so the decisions ultimately come back to me. That gives me the freedom to follow ideas wherever they lead.

At the same time, I don’t really see it as a solo project in the traditional sense. Long-term collaborators such as Ian Evans have become part of the fabric of Mazmere, and as I mentioned before, people like H.A. Eugene and Amyas have been part of my musical life for years. So while Mazmere gives me the freedom to pursue a particular vision, it’s still built through creative relationships and ongoing conversations with people I trust. I feel more comfortable with that than I ever have.

This release ends with a dedication to David and Rob. But who else do you hope it reaches?

Obviously, it’s dedicated to David and Rob, but I hope it reaches anyone who’s trying to make sense of absence, memory, or change.

I don’t expect listeners to share my experiences. What would be important to me is that they find their own connection to the music. If somebody hears these songs and feels a little less alone in whatever they’re holding, that’s enough for me.