Pigeon Spins Featuring an Interview with Lee Feather and the Night Movers

Lee Feather and the Night Movers - The Gods That You Pray To

Lee Feather and The Night Movers return with “The Gods That You Pray To” — an anthemic, gospel-tinged indie track that fuses spacious, spoken-word verses with a soaring, full-voiced chorus. Driven by a hypnotic synth hook and raw lyrical honesty, the song explores what it means to lift someone up when they’ve hit rock bottom: “when the seeds that you’ve planted have been washed away, and the Gods that you pray to are on holiday.” It’s a powerful third release from a band known for their eclectic, instinct-driven sound — poetic, cinematic, and impossible to pin down.

With a deliberately eclectic, liquorice-all-sorts approach to songwriting, Lee Feather and The Night Movers deliver a sound that follows instinct over genre. Their debut album is anchored by sharp, lyrical storytelling—a spiny backbone in a fluid body of work offering tongue-in-cheek, dark, and incisive reflections on modern life. Their debut single, No Refunds (At The Pleasure Dome), emerges from the overflowing post-punk reservoir, with knowing nods to Fat White Family and Baxter Dury. But that influence quickly gives way to the dissonant, choral swell of Calvary, or the jangly indie energy of Motorola —each track a left turn from the last.

Lee Feather and The Night Movers is what happens when a ’90s kid turned poet rifles through his record collection, pulls out a handful of forgotten gems, and decides to make something entirely his own.

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Interview with Lee Feather and the Night Movers

(º)> Who were you really speaking to when you wrote “The Gods That You Pray To”?

I think it’s mainly myself, in all honesty. It’s about pulling yourself together a bit when the chips are down. But it’s also about noticing that when someone needs it you should offer them a hand, whatever that looks like, even if it’s just holding the door open in the shops for a stranger with their hands full. It goes a long way that sort of thing.

(º)> Is the “the seeds that you’ve planted” line about loss, resilience, or something you still haven’t resolved?

It’s really just saying that there will be times where things go awry and that which you planted won’t survive for whatever reason. And you’ve got to deal with that. You’re not always going to win the race, are you?

(º)> What gave you the confidence to blend spoken word and melody without losing balance?

I did a lot of poetry stuff for a good few years, and occasionally still do. A lot of these songs came from old poems and really, when you write that way round, it’s impossible to separate them entirely, especially if the words themselves had a previous life. So they just take on a new identity and you hope it works!

(º)> When you say you follow instinct over genre, are you resisting structure or chasing honesty?

I don’t think you can chase honesty. It’s inherent. It either is or it isn’t. If you’re chasing it then I think you’ve probably already lost the battle. But instinct is just about what’s in your head and having the guts to go with it without second-guessing yourself. It’s all too easy to talk yourself out of a good idea sometimes.

(º)> How do you keep an eclectic sound anchored without it becoming shapeless?

I think there’s always got to be a spine. For me, it’s the lyrics. That’s where most of this all started, so (I hope) it maintains its shape regardless of the difference in production built around it.

(º)> Each track feels like a new start. Is that evolution or impatience?

I just love so many different sounds. So, it’s probably more greed and naivety than evolution or impatience. The greed to want to take a bite from every pastry in the bakery, and the naivety to think you can stomach it without vomiting all over the faces in the front row.

(º)> What did post punk give you that you couldn’t find anywhere else, and what did you have to shed from it?

I’m not sure I totally understand this question, but i’ll give it a go! Honestly, I don’t think as a genre that it gave me any particular access to some other world. It’s just a zeitgeisty sort of thing where you’re surrounded by a lot of it and it just kinda seeps in. And shedding from it, well, I just don’t think I will ever stick to one genre, there’s too much else to try - why stop there?

(º)> How do you stop the poet in you from crowding out the musician?

I think I probably consider myself a writer who makes music. It’s definitely that way around and not the other. And so, I don’t think I will stop trying to crowd it out; in fact, I think I probably embrace it more so.

(º)> “The Gods that you pray to are on holiday” sounds disillusioned. Is there any hope under that cynicism?

It’s not disillusioned. It’s certainly not meant to be. I think in reality everyone has their ‘Gods’, whether it’s a deity or chocolate or music or the pub. Your Gods are the things you turn to, more often than not, when you’re struggling and need a gentle reminder of the faith. But you can’t always expect them to be there. Sometimes the pub’s shut or the speakers don’t work or God ignores your miraculous request and then it’s down to you.

(º)> When people finish the record, what truth do you want left ringing in their heads?

The message is: ‘there is no message’. Whatever you take from it is what you take from it. I don’t think that’s my decision, and nor would I want it to be.

(•)> That's all Folks! Check out Lee Feather and the Night Movers on the Pigeon Spins Playlist