Acoya is going on a drive with new single “DUI”

It might not feel like it when you’re going through it, but heartbreak often leads to exciting new beginnings. Just ask alt-folk rabble The Slow Country, who were born from the ashes of two breakups and since then have been slowly evolving into a genuinely thrilling prospect in British music. Armed with seven members, less conventional indie band instruments like an accordion and a violin, and songwriting as evocative as it is rousing, this group’s expansive, joy-filled music is seemingly impossible to have a bad time to. They even, as one song in their live set makes clear, make being “fundamentally fucked” sound like the time of your life.

The path to their jubilant sound started from something more sorrowful. Old friends Joe Darley (vocals/guitar) and Charlie Smith (vocals/guitar) both went through relationships ending around the same time. “It was breakup season,” Darley smiles, sitting next to bassist Finnbar Simmonds in the fragrant lobby of London’s The Standard hotel on a grey September afternoon. “We were in a punk band called Paris Syndrome in uni – I’m not sure we ever played a gig; we just liked taking our tops off in practice – but Charlie was the one in the band I was most aligned to as a friend, and musically, so we always had a mind to do something.”

Working on material together was “quite exciting”, with the pair tapping into “really earnest songwriting”. Soon, they started filling the roles that would turn the exercise into an actual band, turning to some of their closest friends (Simmonds; Ben Court on drums and vocals; Gina Edwards on keys, accordion and vocals), as well as Darley’s brother James on guitar. The final signing, violinist Miren Summers, was recruited at Manchester venue The Talleyrand. “It was one of those gigs where we supported a band, and the crowd for us was the headline act plus Miren, who was mates with them,” recalls Simmonds. “Then for the headline act, it was us plus Miren.”

Since then, it’s taken them a while to figure out how they want to sound. They deliberately held off releasing music for two years after forming, finally sharing their debut single ‘Walking Song’ in 2024 following a concerted period of development in rehearsals and on stage. “Our first live shows were such a mental mix of heavy riff stuff, like this one called ‘This Is Going To Hurt’ and another called ‘Toadzilla’, mixed in with Charlie doing a really slow acoustic one,” their bassist shares. “It was just absolute whiplash.” But Darley and Smith decided the bones of The Slow Country in an early manifesto. “[It’s about] throwing the kitchen sink in, sonically,” Darley laughs. “I like the maximalism of having every instrument there and finding pockets of melody, and being quite texture-rich.”

Now, that directive has advanced to include their live presence, which has helped build a word-of-mouth buzz around their gigs. “My favourite thing is people saying that it’s the most wholesome thing they’ve seen as a live band, and watching us all just have fun and laugh on stage is really healing for them,” says Simmonds. “It’s something I really love to lean into.”

“We’re really sick of bands who think they’re too cool for school – bands who are on stage just rolling their eyes, pouting a little bit, just being stoic,” picks up Darley. “I really, really love just reflecting how much fun it is to be on stage, because it is such a joy and a pleasure.”

That feeling is palpable in The Slow Country’s shows – performances that take you out of yourself and away from your problems, and into an exuberant escape that’s coloured with the epic cinema of early Arcade Fire, the ramshackle twang of The Nude Party, and the layered beauty of Big Thief.

It’s no wonder they proved to be a sleeper hit at festivals like Truck and Green Man this summer, playing to fields and tents not just full of people, but people actively listening, enjoying and responding to their sets. “We’ve been plugging away at this for a very long time, and this year has been really exciting and kind of explosive,” Darley assesses. “It’s been a vindication of a lot of hard work that’s been leading up to this moment, but it’s still surreal to walk out on stage and have it be a full tent.”

“My favourite thing is people saying watching us all just have fun and laugh on stage is really healing for them” – Finnbar Simmonds

Being an emerging artist in 2026 is tough for anyone, but things are a little more complicated for The Slow Country. Not only do they have seven members hoping to one day make a living off this (“We’re operating at a net loss,” Darley quips. “We’ll get there”), they’re also split between Manchester, where they formed, and London. Where other bands can get together multiple times a week to rehearse, the septet gather once a fortnight for intense eight-hour practice sessions, where they play through material and work on new songs. “It really feeds into that chaotic ‘band all together in one place’ feeling,” Simmonds explains. “No sunlight, people stopping you from going for a cig break…”

“By the time you hit hour number six, the delirium becomes quite beautiful; it becomes quite creative,” his bandmate chimes in. And before that? Simmonds shakes his head: “Oh, it’s worthless, everyone shouting and [getting] really angry at each other if you play something wrong.”

When they can hit the rehearsal room together, they all pitch in with writing, bringing in new ideas or songs they’ve passed between each other online “like remote work”. Despite their material coming from seven individual minds and their unique experiences, often the musicians find they’re drawn to writing about similar themes. On ‘Right There Inside’, they explore staying present rather than succumbing to the comforting lure of nostalgia, while ‘Amy Stew’ is a breakup song that taps into the small moments in life that call you back to someone (“Oh, I missed you / In the traffic to another boring day”). “We’re very similar people, so I think those themes do come up, and it helps to keep things in The Slow Country world,” Darley reasons. “We’re all very anxious!”

Over the last year, the band have added another musical companion to their troupe, with acclaimed musician Bill Ryder-Jones producing ‘Firing Line’, ‘In The Mud’ and their upcoming music, helping them capture the true scope of their sound on record. “I remember a few years ago Charlie saying to my dad that the dream would be to have Bill producing,” Simmonds smiles. Working with him has lived up to their expectations: “Watching him record vocals is a really sweet thing because he’s aware of how tender that can be. He will be very nurturing, but he’s also got the viewpoint of ‘if I like the sound of it, then great – it doesn’t matter if it’s perfect, as long as the feeling and energy are where they should be’.”

You couldn’t accuse The Slow Country’s latest single of being short on either feeling or energy. ‘Through Your Teeth’ captures the eruption of emotions after bottling things up, Smith narrating, “Came out of your heart, straight into your veins / Up through your lungs and into your brain / Over your tongue, straight through your teeth / Does it matter to you? You know it matters to me”. Beneath, his bandmates’ instruments gradually build, the pressure rising and rising until it bursts in one big release: “You know it matters!” “The way it comes from within, it brews up and explodes out of you,” Darley says. “It continues to build on the frustration of not communicating properly into a big outcry.”

While we wait for more music to be unveiled, the band will continue to put smiles on the faces of unsuspecting gig-goers (and a growing legion of converts) with a mass of live shows in the coming months, including their current run supporting Swim Deep and a November outing with Gently Tender. Further along the horizon, the band are already thinking about their debut album. “I think doing an album together would be so fun,” says Simmonds. “To be able to think of real themes, write songs around that and bring it all together.” It might be early days, but there’s one thing he knows for certain: “‘Toadzilla’ will not make the cut.”

The Slow Country’s ‘Through Your Teeth’ is out now via Heist Or Hit.