Refusing to fall into stasis, Saddle Creek signees, Young Jesus, are forever pushing forward; and their new album, Shepherd Head (out 23rd September) finds them on a somewhat different path than the post-rock experimentalism that has peppered Welcome to Conceptual Beach. Incorporating ambience and dark pop – plus guest spots from label mate, Tomberlin – Shepherd Head is a beautiful journey through some of life’s toughest challenges, and another immersive triumph for the group.

To coincide with the release of the new single, Rose Eater, we spoke to bandleader, John Rossiter, about the art which means most to him. 

Three favourite albums:

Company- Epiphanies I-VI

Right now, I’m very into Derek Bailey. One of the only artists I can listen to sometimes. It’s strange because if you had asked me to listen to his music three years ago, I would’ve said it was nonsense. But I got to a point where I was driving long distances in LA for work while I was landscaping there, and the thing I needed most on those drives was unpredictability. If I knew where a song was going, it’d trigger a need to hear something like it, to capture the exact mood I was in even better. I think that’s the issue with all this choice and streaming. To maximise. But Derek Bailey’s music is so unique and textural and specific. No idea where it’s going. Very soothing for me. Anyway, this one features a lot of greats: George Lewis, Fred Frith, Ursula Oppens. I remember listening to it with my friends Lag and Albon, lying on the ground after a long day gardening, and just letting the strangeness and beauty envelop us.

Everclear- So Much for the Afterglow

I loved very dramatic and very poppy rock when I was a kid. Don’t Wanna Miss a Thing by Aerosmith, Sum 41, Sugar Ray, Dave Matthews Band, Weezer, Coldplay. But this album feels very special to me because it’s communicating real pain and trauma and the search for beauty and trying to be better. It’s super vulnerable. I’m not sure if this is top three for me of ALL TIME, but I’m thinking about it today, with the music I’m writing. Very catchy and dynamic. Plus the intro is so killer.

The Beatles 1967-1970

I was thinking about talking about Burial or Talk Talk or Thelonious Monk, but I don’t think I’d be into any of that if I hadn’t found this box set CD when I was seven or eight. Listened to it nonstop on my Walkman. I didn’t love early Beatles music as much as I love the more far out pop hits. All those textures that I love now, people settling into their seats, airplanes flying, water bubbling– that’s all here. It was very far out music for a seven year old, but because of when I found it, it’s the most normal thing in the world to me. I also love The Long and Winding Road because I thought Paul was crying on it. Which I thought was the most amazing thing you could do, sing something so intense it makes you cry. Been trying to do that ever since.

Favourite film:

Identifying Features – Fernanda Valadez

An understated and devastating film. Visually beautiful. Poetic but with a real narrative propulsion. A mother searches for her son after he gets lost on his way to the US to find work. This movie has a lot of critical acclaim, but I think more people should see it. These days, it takes bravery to make a meditative, thoughtful movie. But ultimately the emotions communicated carry so much depth because of the patience of the creators. 

Favourite book:

Nicolas Rothwell – Quicksilver 

My favourite author right now. Dreamy and real all at once. As a writer, he is so deeply curious about people and their relationship to place it’s almost disconcerting. But in that commitment, he dissolves and the details he picks up from other people fill out the world around him. Saying that reminds me a bit of the book Outline by Rachel Cusk, but the stakes here seem higher, more integral to the writer’s survival. I love Cusk’s writing, but Nicolas Rothwell haunts me. I love his work so much. And I sure hope more people read what he writes. His world is so full.

A song that means a lot to you:

Young Jesus – For Nana

After we recorded this, I would sit on the bus on my way to work at Skylight Books and cry and cry. The song didn’t exist and we just booked a couple days in a studio in New Orleans with our friends Matt Seferian and Mike Saladis. I had just come from my grandma’s funeral in Chicago and this song just grew from there. It helps me process her death because I was very close to her. Very grateful for Eric’s piano part and Marcel’s bass line and Kern’s drums on this one. Also, the work that Matt and Mike did. Music is not entertainment to me, it’s a guide that points me to where I’m trying to go. It wells up from some place deep within my soul. I don’t much enjoy listening to music these days, but when music connects, it transports me to somewhere important. I feel like I don’t have much control over it.

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