After shaping the sound of indie pop with The Field Mice, Michael Hiscock has returned with The Gentle Spring, a project steeped in reflection, melody, and a search for simplicity. With their recent single Looking Back at the World and an album that explores themes of regret, joy, and moving forward, Hiscock speaks to us about his journey, the band’s evolution, and what the future holds.
How did the band come together?
Emilie and I have been together for ten years, and over time we collected a number of ideas and melodies. It felt natural to start writing together. I’ve known Jérémie for about the same length of time—he plays guitar for a number of bands in Paris—so when we decided to play live, he was the obvious choice. Initially, the plan was just to release a 7” single on Too Good To Be True Records (Paris Windows / Dodge The Rain), but when Skep Wax offered to release an album, that really solidified us as a group.
Your single Looking Back at the World reflects on the past while urging listeners to focus on the future. What inspired this dual perspective, and how does it tie into the broader themes of the album?
Age, I suppose. At 58, there’s still time left, but you’re also aware that time is limited. It’s like taking a picture of the past and using that to define and motivate myself for the future. This idea of looking back runs throughout the album. If there is a theme, it’s: Where am I now? What have I learned? Where do I want to go? It’s not a mid-life crisis—that time has passed—but more a way to pave the way for the future me, as the song says.
The Field Mice played such a pivotal role in shaping indie pop in the ’90s. How does your experience from that era influence the music you’re creating now with The Gentle Spring?
Probably not very much, in the sense that we never overthought things musically. What happened just happened. I don’t see The Gentle Spring as a follow-on from The Field Mice. Of course, it’s still me, and I learned about songwriting with Bobby, so there may be familiar traits. The album was recorded with Ian Catt, so there are sonic links to The Field Mice, but that’s more coincidence than planning. The approach this time was simplicity: minimal percussion, no overdubs, songs that can be reproduced live, and recording quickly.
The album explores themes of regret, joy, and moving forward. Was there a particular moment or experience that shaped the direction of these songs?
As I mentioned before, age played a big part. The album came from wanting to stand still, observe, and document. Another factor was making sure I had something to say. This was the first time I’d written lyrics, and I didn’t want to write simple love songs. Instead, I found myself exploring questions and situations that were important to me. It became a form of self-therapy.
Jérémie’s guitar work adds a textured layer to the music. How do the three of you collaborate to ensure every element of your sound feels cohesive yet distinct?
Simply by sharing ideas, rehearsing, trying things out, and keeping what works while dismissing what doesn’t. We’re lucky in that we share a vision of what the band should sound like. We’re not looking for a song with a dominant instrument—everything should work together for a cohesive whole. There’s a story about David Lynch recording music and asking the producer to make the song sound “orange.” That might sound mad, but that’s the kind of thing we’re aiming for.
Looking Back at the World has echoes of The Field Mice, yet it feels very much like a band looking ahead. How do you strike a balance between honoring the past and pushing into new creative territory?
I don’t feel we have to honor the past. The Field Mice records exist, and that’s great, but I wanted to try something new. I never thought about The Field Mice when writing this album. It’s been so long, and I relied on my intuition, believing that I’ve lived and learned enough to create something different. Of course, there are echoes, particularly in my bass playing, but hopefully, we’ve moved into new territory with a big enough gap between the two projects.
Your music carries deeply emotional and often bittersweet themes. How do you hope listeners connect with those feelings, especially in songs like Severed Hearts or The Girl Who Ran Away?
You can only write for yourself and hope that listeners find their own connections. We’ve played concerts where people tell us they relate to the songs in ways we never anticipated. Severed Hearts and Untouched seem to resonate the most. That wasn’t intentional, but it turns out I’m not the only 58-year-old who sees the world in the way this record depicts it.
Your sound has evolved to include richer arrangements, with acoustic guitars and haunting keyboards. Was this a conscious decision, or did it happen naturally?
A bit of both. I didn’t want a drummer, electric guitars, or studio trickery. I became fascinated by the portability of folk music—its beauty and simplicity. The idea of being able to fit everything in a car and just go play appealed to me. I wanted to use limitations as a strength. In an age dominated by technology and overproduction, I wanted to record something simple, natural, and (hopefully) beautiful. Less is more.
You’ve built an audience in France and are now touring the UK. How does performing live shape your connection with the songs?
Each gig reveals something new in the songs. It depends on how we play them—our energy levels, the quality of the sound, and particularly how they’re sung. The Reason Why You Lie could be heard as an explanation or an accusation, Untouched could be a nostalgic story or pure anger. Every performance is different. What’s been interesting is realizing that the songs take on a life of their own.
How do you see The Gentle Spring evolving over the next few years?
We’ve been thinking about that a lot lately, especially in terms of playing live. One thing’s for sure: we don’t want a drummer. A percussionist would be nice, but not a full drum kit. The question of a bass player is also up in the air—do I go back to playing bass, or do we bring someone new in? I feel like we have something unique right now, and I want to be careful not to slip into a standard rock band format. One idea is to invite guest musicians to join us for individual gigs, keeping the core trio but allowing different textures and dynamics. So, I suppose the best answer is: watch this space.
As they navigate their next steps, Michael and the band remain committed to intimacy, authenticity, and a sound that defies convention.
