Zero 7


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Formed: 1999 (15 years ago)


Biography

From backroom bods to the Hollywood Bowl, from tiny specialist shops to a million-selling album, from using more singers than a Broadway musical and trucking on regardless, Zero 7’s story has always been about thinking that little big bigger. How else to explain I Have Seen, a record that brims with the smouldering orchestral soul of a thousand strings, yet was made in a tiny makeshift studio in Swiss Cottage?

Long before that studio there were lunchtime spliffs on Hampstead Heath, where 16-year-old schoolkids Henry Binns and Sam Hardaker began what Sam calls “a long conversation about music ... Read more

From backroom bods to the Hollywood Bowl, from tiny specialist shops to a million-selling album, from using more singers than a Broadway musical and trucking on regardless, Zero 7’s story has always been about thinking that little big bigger. How else to explain I Have Seen, a record that brims with the smouldering orchestral soul of a thousand strings, yet was made in a tiny makeshift studio in Swiss Cottage?

Long before that studio there were lunchtime spliffs on Hampstead Heath, where 16-year-old schoolkids Henry Binns and Sam Hardaker began what Sam calls “a long conversation about music which has lasted ever since”. Sam’s main concerns were typical of the time – proving he could listen to a whole Herbie Hancock album and smoke a bong without being sick. But he was impressed by Henry’s taste for “slightly effeminate ’80s soul tunes”, people like Teddy Pendergrass who combined sex with a sophisticated grandeur.

Both went on sound engineering courses, then to work at Mickie Most’s RAK studio, where they took the time-honoured road to learning their craft, in between bobbing out for sushi and champagne to keep the visiting stars fed and lubricated. But, having perfected their tea-making technique, they felt the pull of more creative pursuits. The Swiss cottage studio was born, and money earned beefing up the programming on records for pop acts like Natalie Imbruglia.

Eager to push on, they asked (“bothered incessantly”, as they have it), their friend and Radiohead producer Nigel Godrich if they could have a crack at remixing them. The result, a rework of Climbing Up The Walls, witnessed the birth of the Zero 7 name, pinched from a Honduran bar. It might have been its last too. “We were really chuffed that they wanted to use it,” says Sam. “But it came out, and nobody said anything. I thought that was that. Then Gilles Peterson played it and cos he liked it, he asked us to do a mix of Terry Callier.”

Things rolled from there. More remixes followed, notably a magnificent take on Lambchop’s Up With People in 2000. The only logical way to sustain the momentum was to make the leap into producing their own material. “We never really thought about doing our own music, ’cos of the background we came from,” admits Sam. “We thought we had to work on other people’s, but at some point doing these remixes we started to assemble lots of ideas.”

In the first weeks of the new century an EP emerged. Self-released and immediately sold-out, it fuelled the demand for more, and by the time they returned with another in November that year, things were taking shape. Singer Sia Furler was on board, bringing new layers of soul to a sound pitched between the duo’s jazz-funk roots and the wave of downtempo electronica ushered in by Air.

“We thought we’d get a singer but we ended up with three,” remembers Henry. “We waited a long time to get people who’d fit on the music. We built up very elaborate backing tracks and the singer would come in and say ‘Where am I gonna fit in on this?’” But fit they did, and when the debut album Simple Things was completed in April 2001, most of its tracks featured voices (Mozez and Sophie Barker completing the trio of vocalists) accentuating the emotion of their synth symphonies. The album proved a sleeper hit, never charting higher than 28, but eventually selling a million worldwide and being nominated for the Mercury Prize.

The singles Destiny and Distractions charted, but it was as a complete album that the experience really excelled, with cuts like the awesome I Have Seen, the gorgeous instrumental Polaris. Zero 7 cooked up huge washes of sound in that small Swiss Cottage space, delivering a richness and depth others could only hint at. “We were just trying to pretend, says Sam, “to give this impression that we were making these big records that sounded like the old things we loved, that had orchestras but were still really funky. But they were made in a little room.”

Fooled or not, people lapped it up, presenting Sam and Henry with another dilemma: how to make it work on stage. Henry says, “We discussed the live thing and decided it’s not something we do, this is a record that was made in the studio, not with a band sitting down playing. We decided we weren’t gonna do that. Six months later it wasn’t an option.” The traditional Dog & Duck route wasn’t a runner for a gold-selling band, so live debuts were forged at Barcelona’s Sonar and, for their home turf, Shepherd’s Bush Empire.

The same line-up reassembled for the second album, 2004’s When It Falls, with Tina Dico swelling the number of singers once more. Home and Somersault were highlights, but When It Falls wasn’t the happiest experience, a juggling act borne of placating a mushrooming line-up. Worse still, a backlash of sorts had decreed anything that wasn’t garage rock revival to be bland, coffee-table music. Sam cringes at the term: “Our album was the background music to every TV show. You couldn’t watch a TV programme about getting your garden or kitchen done without having our album playing. They don’t have to ask permission if they’re not using more than 30 seconds or whatever, so if they want to play your whole album through a cookery show, they can. Which they did, again and again and again. Obviously we had a great time, got to sell a lot of records, go around the world, but at the same time it left a bit of a nasty taste for a lot of people, us included.”

Sensing the need for a rethink, Sam and Henry slimmed down and headed off to the country. The latter had moved out to Glastonbury (the village, not the festival), where he built a new studio and indulged his love of James Taylor and Joni Mitchell. Vocally, third album The Garden was divided between Sia and Swedish star José González. Despite, or perhaps because of, the bucolic setting, the album sounds more upbeat than its predecessor (see the peppy Throw It All Away or dreamy Futures for evidence), a reflection of Henry’s “liberated feeling of moving somewhere else”.

“We really enjoyed making that album,” Sam concurs. “When we got round to touring it we had a real laugh, probably the best time, José, Sia and us. Sia set up a bar onstage when she wasn’t singing, everyone stayed onstage for the whole thing. When we went to the States it really went down well.”

The Garden picked up a Grammy nomination in the States and was their third consecutive gold-seller in the UK. But just as it seemed Zero 7 had truly found their groove, they decided it was more of a rut. Sam, in particular, was determined to seize the opportunity for change and try new ideas: “I wanted us to clock ourselves going through the motions and shift a bit, look at it in a different way. I asserted myself more on that record. I was trying to catch Henry on the way from the kitchen to the piano. We had some tussles.”

They went out on the road as Ingrid Eto, finally playing the Dog & Duck circuit with an experimental electronic sound. Some of the tracks made their way onto their fourth album, Yeah Ghost, a record that saw them branch out in several different directions at once. As well as the glitchy, broken electrofunk of Ghost sYMbOL and the classic mellow Zero 7 sound of Swing, there was the motivational message of Everything Up (Zizou) and dance-pop anthems Mr McGee and Medicine Man. New talent blew in, in the form of Eska, who breathed fire all over the last two. “That’s what you want from a collaboration, someone to take you somewhere completely different. It was really positive,” says Sam.

As well as the handpicked highlights from Zero 7’s first decade, the album before you contains a bonus disc of remixes, some previously issued, some brand new commissions by long-time heroes like Carl Craig (both still seem chuffed that this Detroit techno giant knew and liked their work) and young stars like Kwes, who jumped at the chance to remix Destiny. “He told me it was his favourite record when he was about 14,” Sam says. “He makes out-there music, I felt like his granddad.”

Not quite. Sam and Henry have come an extraordinarily long way in four albums and one decade. But this is an ongoing story. Henry is still beavering away in his Glastonbury studio (in between “milking pigs”, as devout Londoner Sam has it), while Sam has re-kitted and reopened the Swiss Cottage premises where it all began, the small space in which the huge, expansive Simple Things was made. While the duo ponder how next to squeeze the sound of a cast of thousands from its cramped confines, this ‘Record’ is a timely reminder of how they did it first time round.

Now in 2013 and finding themselves with a load of new music and acting as free agents, Zero 7 have decided to follow the model of self-reliance that epitomised their early days and chimes in with the post-Internet musical landscape. Their first new material since the release of 'Yeah Ghost' is a white label 12-inch, which features two vocal tracks recorded earlier this year in their London studio. Speaking about the new songs, Sam & Henry said: Both tracks were written with singers we haven't worked with previously. Title track ‘On My Own’ features Danny Pratt (AKA Danny Boy), a native of Canberra, Australia who we met in London last year. This is the first of a couple of songs that we plan to release featuring Danny on vocals. ‘On My Own’ is a hypnotic song, restless, alive with melody that surfaces imperceptibly over spectral guitars before burrowing into your brain, never to leave.
Flip-side track ‘Don't Call it Love’ is one of many tracks that we have co-written recently with the mysterious and benevolent singer/songwriter Tom Leonard from Los Angeles. ‘Don't Call it Love’ is soulful, warm and provocative, with Leonard’s voice drifting to the foreground, gliding dreamily through the seductive rhythm of entrancing bass lines, brooding synths and keyboards. These songs are bright and playful or as Sam & Henry put it a bit of sunshine music from the west coast via NW6! .

The new material from Zero 7 finds the dynamic duo draw from their previous palette of post-club sounds, this time injecting their music with the fresh and soothing vocal tones of new singers from the furthest corners of the globe.

Discography (albums):
Simple Things (2001)
When It Falls (2004)
The Garden (2006)
Yeah Ghost (2009)
Record (2010)

This biography was provided by the artist or their representative.

From backroom bods to the Hollywood Bowl, from tiny specialist shops to a million-selling album, from using more singers than a Broadway musical and trucking on regardless, Zero 7’s story has always been about thinking that little big bigger. How else to explain I Have Seen, a record that brims with the smouldering orchestral soul of a thousand strings, yet was made in a tiny makeshift studio in Swiss Cottage?

Long before that studio there were lunchtime spliffs on Hampstead Heath, where 16-year-old schoolkids Henry Binns and Sam Hardaker began what Sam calls “a long conversation about music which has lasted ever since”. Sam’s main concerns were typical of the time – proving he could listen to a whole Herbie Hancock album and smoke a bong without being sick. But he was impressed by Henry’s taste for “slightly effeminate ’80s soul tunes”, people like Teddy Pendergrass who combined sex with a sophisticated grandeur.

Both went on sound engineering courses, then to work at Mickie Most’s RAK studio, where they took the time-honoured road to learning their craft, in between bobbing out for sushi and champagne to keep the visiting stars fed and lubricated. But, having perfected their tea-making technique, they felt the pull of more creative pursuits. The Swiss cottage studio was born, and money earned beefing up the programming on records for pop acts like Natalie Imbruglia.

Eager to push on, they asked (“bothered incessantly”, as they have it), their friend and Radiohead producer Nigel Godrich if they could have a crack at remixing them. The result, a rework of Climbing Up The Walls, witnessed the birth of the Zero 7 name, pinched from a Honduran bar. It might have been its last too. “We were really chuffed that they wanted to use it,” says Sam. “But it came out, and nobody said anything. I thought that was that. Then Gilles Peterson played it and cos he liked it, he asked us to do a mix of Terry Callier.”

Things rolled from there. More remixes followed, notably a magnificent take on Lambchop’s Up With People in 2000. The only logical way to sustain the momentum was to make the leap into producing their own material. “We never really thought about doing our own music, ’cos of the background we came from,” admits Sam. “We thought we had to work on other people’s, but at some point doing these remixes we started to assemble lots of ideas.”

In the first weeks of the new century an EP emerged. Self-released and immediately sold-out, it fuelled the demand for more, and by the time they returned with another in November that year, things were taking shape. Singer Sia Furler was on board, bringing new layers of soul to a sound pitched between the duo’s jazz-funk roots and the wave of downtempo electronica ushered in by Air.

“We thought we’d get a singer but we ended up with three,” remembers Henry. “We waited a long time to get people who’d fit on the music. We built up very elaborate backing tracks and the singer would come in and say ‘Where am I gonna fit in on this?’” But fit they did, and when the debut album Simple Things was completed in April 2001, most of its tracks featured voices (Mozez and Sophie Barker completing the trio of vocalists) accentuating the emotion of their synth symphonies. The album proved a sleeper hit, never charting higher than 28, but eventually selling a million worldwide and being nominated for the Mercury Prize.

The singles Destiny and Distractions charted, but it was as a complete album that the experience really excelled, with cuts like the awesome I Have Seen, the gorgeous instrumental Polaris. Zero 7 cooked up huge washes of sound in that small Swiss Cottage space, delivering a richness and depth others could only hint at. “We were just trying to pretend, says Sam, “to give this impression that we were making these big records that sounded like the old things we loved, that had orchestras but were still really funky. But they were made in a little room.”

Fooled or not, people lapped it up, presenting Sam and Henry with another dilemma: how to make it work on stage. Henry says, “We discussed the live thing and decided it’s not something we do, this is a record that was made in the studio, not with a band sitting down playing. We decided we weren’t gonna do that. Six months later it wasn’t an option.” The traditional Dog & Duck route wasn’t a runner for a gold-selling band, so live debuts were forged at Barcelona’s Sonar and, for their home turf, Shepherd’s Bush Empire.

The same line-up reassembled for the second album, 2004’s When It Falls, with Tina Dico swelling the number of singers once more. Home and Somersault were highlights, but When It Falls wasn’t the happiest experience, a juggling act borne of placating a mushrooming line-up. Worse still, a backlash of sorts had decreed anything that wasn’t garage rock revival to be bland, coffee-table music. Sam cringes at the term: “Our album was the background music to every TV show. You couldn’t watch a TV programme about getting your garden or kitchen done without having our album playing. They don’t have to ask permission if they’re not using more than 30 seconds or whatever, so if they want to play your whole album through a cookery show, they can. Which they did, again and again and again. Obviously we had a great time, got to sell a lot of records, go around the world, but at the same time it left a bit of a nasty taste for a lot of people, us included.”

Sensing the need for a rethink, Sam and Henry slimmed down and headed off to the country. The latter had moved out to Glastonbury (the village, not the festival), where he built a new studio and indulged his love of James Taylor and Joni Mitchell. Vocally, third album The Garden was divided between Sia and Swedish star José González. Despite, or perhaps because of, the bucolic setting, the album sounds more upbeat than its predecessor (see the peppy Throw It All Away or dreamy Futures for evidence), a reflection of Henry’s “liberated feeling of moving somewhere else”.

“We really enjoyed making that album,” Sam concurs. “When we got round to touring it we had a real laugh, probably the best time, José, Sia and us. Sia set up a bar onstage when she wasn’t singing, everyone stayed onstage for the whole thing. When we went to the States it really went down well.”

The Garden picked up a Grammy nomination in the States and was their third consecutive gold-seller in the UK. But just as it seemed Zero 7 had truly found their groove, they decided it was more of a rut. Sam, in particular, was determined to seize the opportunity for change and try new ideas: “I wanted us to clock ourselves going through the motions and shift a bit, look at it in a different way. I asserted myself more on that record. I was trying to catch Henry on the way from the kitchen to the piano. We had some tussles.”

They went out on the road as Ingrid Eto, finally playing the Dog & Duck circuit with an experimental electronic sound. Some of the tracks made their way onto their fourth album, Yeah Ghost, a record that saw them branch out in several different directions at once. As well as the glitchy, broken electrofunk of Ghost sYMbOL and the classic mellow Zero 7 sound of Swing, there was the motivational message of Everything Up (Zizou) and dance-pop anthems Mr McGee and Medicine Man. New talent blew in, in the form of Eska, who breathed fire all over the last two. “That’s what you want from a collaboration, someone to take you somewhere completely different. It was really positive,” says Sam.

As well as the handpicked highlights from Zero 7’s first decade, the album before you contains a bonus disc of remixes, some previously issued, some brand new commissions by long-time heroes like Carl Craig (both still seem chuffed that this Detroit techno giant knew and liked their work) and young stars like Kwes, who jumped at the chance to remix Destiny. “He told me it was his favourite record when he was about 14,” Sam says. “He makes out-there music, I felt like his granddad.”

Not quite. Sam and Henry have come an extraordinarily long way in four albums and one decade. But this is an ongoing story. Henry is still beavering away in his Glastonbury studio (in between “milking pigs”, as devout Londoner Sam has it), while Sam has re-kitted and reopened the Swiss Cottage premises where it all began, the small space in which the huge, expansive Simple Things was made. While the duo ponder how next to squeeze the sound of a cast of thousands from its cramped confines, this ‘Record’ is a timely reminder of how they did it first time round.

Now in 2013 and finding themselves with a load of new music and acting as free agents, Zero 7 have decided to follow the model of self-reliance that epitomised their early days and chimes in with the post-Internet musical landscape. Their first new material since the release of 'Yeah Ghost' is a white label 12-inch, which features two vocal tracks recorded earlier this year in their London studio. Speaking about the new songs, Sam & Henry said: Both tracks were written with singers we haven't worked with previously. Title track ‘On My Own’ features Danny Pratt (AKA Danny Boy), a native of Canberra, Australia who we met in London last year. This is the first of a couple of songs that we plan to release featuring Danny on vocals. ‘On My Own’ is a hypnotic song, restless, alive with melody that surfaces imperceptibly over spectral guitars before burrowing into your brain, never to leave.
Flip-side track ‘Don't Call it Love’ is one of many tracks that we have co-written recently with the mysterious and benevolent singer/songwriter Tom Leonard from Los Angeles. ‘Don't Call it Love’ is soulful, warm and provocative, with Leonard’s voice drifting to the foreground, gliding dreamily through the seductive rhythm of entrancing bass lines, brooding synths and keyboards. These songs are bright and playful or as Sam & Henry put it a bit of sunshine music from the west coast via NW6! .

The new material from Zero 7 finds the dynamic duo draw from their previous palette of post-club sounds, this time injecting their music with the fresh and soothing vocal tones of new singers from the furthest corners of the globe.

Discography (albums):
Simple Things (2001)
When It Falls (2004)
The Garden (2006)
Yeah Ghost (2009)
Record (2010)

This biography was provided by the artist or their representative.

From backroom bods to the Hollywood Bowl, from tiny specialist shops to a million-selling album, from using more singers than a Broadway musical and trucking on regardless, Zero 7’s story has always been about thinking that little big bigger. How else to explain I Have Seen, a record that brims with the smouldering orchestral soul of a thousand strings, yet was made in a tiny makeshift studio in Swiss Cottage?

Long before that studio there were lunchtime spliffs on Hampstead Heath, where 16-year-old schoolkids Henry Binns and Sam Hardaker began what Sam calls “a long conversation about music which has lasted ever since”. Sam’s main concerns were typical of the time – proving he could listen to a whole Herbie Hancock album and smoke a bong without being sick. But he was impressed by Henry’s taste for “slightly effeminate ’80s soul tunes”, people like Teddy Pendergrass who combined sex with a sophisticated grandeur.

Both went on sound engineering courses, then to work at Mickie Most’s RAK studio, where they took the time-honoured road to learning their craft, in between bobbing out for sushi and champagne to keep the visiting stars fed and lubricated. But, having perfected their tea-making technique, they felt the pull of more creative pursuits. The Swiss cottage studio was born, and money earned beefing up the programming on records for pop acts like Natalie Imbruglia.

Eager to push on, they asked (“bothered incessantly”, as they have it), their friend and Radiohead producer Nigel Godrich if they could have a crack at remixing them. The result, a rework of Climbing Up The Walls, witnessed the birth of the Zero 7 name, pinched from a Honduran bar. It might have been its last too. “We were really chuffed that they wanted to use it,” says Sam. “But it came out, and nobody said anything. I thought that was that. Then Gilles Peterson played it and cos he liked it, he asked us to do a mix of Terry Callier.”

Things rolled from there. More remixes followed, notably a magnificent take on Lambchop’s Up With People in 2000. The only logical way to sustain the momentum was to make the leap into producing their own material. “We never really thought about doing our own music, ’cos of the background we came from,” admits Sam. “We thought we had to work on other people’s, but at some point doing these remixes we started to assemble lots of ideas.”

In the first weeks of the new century an EP emerged. Self-released and immediately sold-out, it fuelled the demand for more, and by the time they returned with another in November that year, things were taking shape. Singer Sia Furler was on board, bringing new layers of soul to a sound pitched between the duo’s jazz-funk roots and the wave of downtempo electronica ushered in by Air.

“We thought we’d get a singer but we ended up with three,” remembers Henry. “We waited a long time to get people who’d fit on the music. We built up very elaborate backing tracks and the singer would come in and say ‘Where am I gonna fit in on this?’” But fit they did, and when the debut album Simple Things was completed in April 2001, most of its tracks featured voices (Mozez and Sophie Barker completing the trio of vocalists) accentuating the emotion of their synth symphonies. The album proved a sleeper hit, never charting higher than 28, but eventually selling a million worldwide and being nominated for the Mercury Prize.

The singles Destiny and Distractions charted, but it was as a complete album that the experience really excelled, with cuts like the awesome I Have Seen, the gorgeous instrumental Polaris. Zero 7 cooked up huge washes of sound in that small Swiss Cottage space, delivering a richness and depth others could only hint at. “We were just trying to pretend, says Sam, “to give this impression that we were making these big records that sounded like the old things we loved, that had orchestras but were still really funky. But they were made in a little room.”

Fooled or not, people lapped it up, presenting Sam and Henry with another dilemma: how to make it work on stage. Henry says, “We discussed the live thing and decided it’s not something we do, this is a record that was made in the studio, not with a band sitting down playing. We decided we weren’t gonna do that. Six months later it wasn’t an option.” The traditional Dog & Duck route wasn’t a runner for a gold-selling band, so live debuts were forged at Barcelona’s Sonar and, for their home turf, Shepherd’s Bush Empire.

The same line-up reassembled for the second album, 2004’s When It Falls, with Tina Dico swelling the number of singers once more. Home and Somersault were highlights, but When It Falls wasn’t the happiest experience, a juggling act borne of placating a mushrooming line-up. Worse still, a backlash of sorts had decreed anything that wasn’t garage rock revival to be bland, coffee-table music. Sam cringes at the term: “Our album was the background music to every TV show. You couldn’t watch a TV programme about getting your garden or kitchen done without having our album playing. They don’t have to ask permission if they’re not using more than 30 seconds or whatever, so if they want to play your whole album through a cookery show, they can. Which they did, again and again and again. Obviously we had a great time, got to sell a lot of records, go around the world, but at the same time it left a bit of a nasty taste for a lot of people, us included.”

Sensing the need for a rethink, Sam and Henry slimmed down and headed off to the country. The latter had moved out to Glastonbury (the village, not the festival), where he built a new studio and indulged his love of James Taylor and Joni Mitchell. Vocally, third album The Garden was divided between Sia and Swedish star José González. Despite, or perhaps because of, the bucolic setting, the album sounds more upbeat than its predecessor (see the peppy Throw It All Away or dreamy Futures for evidence), a reflection of Henry’s “liberated feeling of moving somewhere else”.

“We really enjoyed making that album,” Sam concurs. “When we got round to touring it we had a real laugh, probably the best time, José, Sia and us. Sia set up a bar onstage when she wasn’t singing, everyone stayed onstage for the whole thing. When we went to the States it really went down well.”

The Garden picked up a Grammy nomination in the States and was their third consecutive gold-seller in the UK. But just as it seemed Zero 7 had truly found their groove, they decided it was more of a rut. Sam, in particular, was determined to seize the opportunity for change and try new ideas: “I wanted us to clock ourselves going through the motions and shift a bit, look at it in a different way. I asserted myself more on that record. I was trying to catch Henry on the way from the kitchen to the piano. We had some tussles.”

They went out on the road as Ingrid Eto, finally playing the Dog & Duck circuit with an experimental electronic sound. Some of the tracks made their way onto their fourth album, Yeah Ghost, a record that saw them branch out in several different directions at once. As well as the glitchy, broken electrofunk of Ghost sYMbOL and the classic mellow Zero 7 sound of Swing, there was the motivational message of Everything Up (Zizou) and dance-pop anthems Mr McGee and Medicine Man. New talent blew in, in the form of Eska, who breathed fire all over the last two. “That’s what you want from a collaboration, someone to take you somewhere completely different. It was really positive,” says Sam.

As well as the handpicked highlights from Zero 7’s first decade, the album before you contains a bonus disc of remixes, some previously issued, some brand new commissions by long-time heroes like Carl Craig (both still seem chuffed that this Detroit techno giant knew and liked their work) and young stars like Kwes, who jumped at the chance to remix Destiny. “He told me it was his favourite record when he was about 14,” Sam says. “He makes out-there music, I felt like his granddad.”

Not quite. Sam and Henry have come an extraordinarily long way in four albums and one decade. But this is an ongoing story. Henry is still beavering away in his Glastonbury studio (in between “milking pigs”, as devout Londoner Sam has it), while Sam has re-kitted and reopened the Swiss Cottage premises where it all began, the small space in which the huge, expansive Simple Things was made. While the duo ponder how next to squeeze the sound of a cast of thousands from its cramped confines, this ‘Record’ is a timely reminder of how they did it first time round.

Now in 2013 and finding themselves with a load of new music and acting as free agents, Zero 7 have decided to follow the model of self-reliance that epitomised their early days and chimes in with the post-Internet musical landscape. Their first new material since the release of 'Yeah Ghost' is a white label 12-inch, which features two vocal tracks recorded earlier this year in their London studio. Speaking about the new songs, Sam & Henry said: Both tracks were written with singers we haven't worked with previously. Title track ‘On My Own’ features Danny Pratt (AKA Danny Boy), a native of Canberra, Australia who we met in London last year. This is the first of a couple of songs that we plan to release featuring Danny on vocals. ‘On My Own’ is a hypnotic song, restless, alive with melody that surfaces imperceptibly over spectral guitars before burrowing into your brain, never to leave.
Flip-side track ‘Don't Call it Love’ is one of many tracks that we have co-written recently with the mysterious and benevolent singer/songwriter Tom Leonard from Los Angeles. ‘Don't Call it Love’ is soulful, warm and provocative, with Leonard’s voice drifting to the foreground, gliding dreamily through the seductive rhythm of entrancing bass lines, brooding synths and keyboards. These songs are bright and playful or as Sam & Henry put it a bit of sunshine music from the west coast via NW6! .

The new material from Zero 7 finds the dynamic duo draw from their previous palette of post-club sounds, this time injecting their music with the fresh and soothing vocal tones of new singers from the furthest corners of the globe.

Discography (albums):
Simple Things (2001)
When It Falls (2004)
The Garden (2006)
Yeah Ghost (2009)
Record (2010)

This biography was provided by the artist or their representative.

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