Tasmin Stephens grew up in Wigan, far from the cities where her heroes – Blondie, Lou Reed, Kurt Cobain, Courtney Love – first carved their names. Distance, though, didn’t dull their influence as Stephens found refuge in their music, channelling their urgency and bite into lo-fi bedroom recordings made with whatever was at hand. Now based in Manchester and performing under the moniker, TTSSFU, Stephens has cemented herself at the heart of the city’s new wave, and as one of the UK’s most exciting talents.

Her debut EP Blown – set for release via Partisan Records – translates a year of touring highs and personal lows into a sound that’s as volatile as it is meticulously crafted; cut by adolescent angst and hard-won self-expression. Its range is striking: the jagged propulsion of Cat Piss Junkie (“Cat piss stinks, it absolutely stinks. One of the worst smells ever,” she correctly tells us) sits alongside the aching haze of Sick, balancing raw catharsis with lush textures. Mix that with a love of embracing things that scare the shit out of her – the experimental sounds of Xiu Xiu, the stark horror of Skinamarink, and worst of all, public service announcements – and Stephens’ dreamy yet dangerous sound takes form. 

J.L. Sirisuk: Let’s go back to your bedroom in Wigan – what did falling in love with music look like then? What were you obsessed with?
TS: The first band I really got into was the Beatles. I got intensely obsessed with them, watched their movies all the time, and bought all their albums. Even now, when their music comes on, I still appreciate it a lot. Then, I got into Nirvana and became obsessed with Kurt Cobain. My family and I would always listen to music in the car, blasting it on the motorway – I remember being struck by how much emotion was contained in each song. That’s when I realised I wanted to be in a band.

JLS: Nirvana are such a gateway band for a teenager. I had In Utero on cassette and played it non-stop. Kurt Cobain opened a door to something that felt more real.
TS: He was like the entry to grunge music, and it introduced me to Courtney Love, Babes in Toyland, and bands like that. It resonated with me – the grunge aesthetic, Riot Grrrl, Sonic Youth. It was the gateway into all of that because I had no idea before. When you’re young, it’s hard to find bands you like, but then you go on a YouTube rabbit hole and discover all these people. That was it for me.

JLS: Did bands like Nirvana make you feel ready to start creating on your own?
TS: I’ve always been nervous. That music is bold, so I couldn’t express myself like that at the time because I felt so locked up in myself. I had major stage fright and hadn’t done a show. I wouldn’t sing in front of my family. I’d experiment when everyone was out, and if anyone heard it, I’d shut down completely. Then I discovered lo-fi artists using drum machines, Alex G, Elvis Depressedly, Coma Cinema, and thought, “OK, this seems possible.” They were putting so much emotion and expression into it. It seemed more realistic for me to learn how to do this and not have anyone else intervene. I didn’t want to work with anyone else because I was scared. I was like, “I have to do this myself because I don’t want anyone to see what I’m doing.”

“I used to be absolutely terrified of PSAs – old-fashioned public service announcements. I’d watch them on YouTube almost as a test to frighten myself.”

JLS: You began uploading songs at around sixteen?
TS: I think I started putting up stuff around then. Listening back, sometimes I think, “What the hell? This doesn’t sound like me.” It took me a while to find my actual voice because I’d mimic other singers. I remember uploading my first SoundCloud thing, being terrified, and blocking family members so they couldn’t get the link.

JLS: I’m sure they’re not blocked now.
TS: Unfortunately, they see everything. [both laugh]

JLS: You set out to write happy pop songs, but the EP landed somewhere more raw. What does that reveal about where your head was at while making it?
TS: I’d gone from never playing a show to playing in front of 600 people with [some of] my favourite bands. It was a privilege, but it was overwhelming. Sometimes I felt out of body, emotionally exhausted – going through some stuff, and then I’d come home and feel completely useless like “What am I doing?” It was a really odd thing, like two sides of the same coin. I was trying to write happy pop songs, but then everything I was writing felt like a lie. You can tell when music’s dishonest. I ended up writing about how I actually felt. Cat Piss Junkie is about feeling meaningless and drifting along. Being Young sums up chasing chaos and fun, then wondering what you’re doing and wanting to go home.

JLS: Did you feel like you gave yourself more permission to go bolder than on the last release, Me, Jed and Andy?
TS: Yes. Me, Jed and Andy started easier. I projected feelings onto two people I imagined were going through what I experienced. But then I wrote I Hope You Die, which was the most exposing song at the time. I was sort of like, “The cat’s out of the bag now, so I can just do it.” I was like “I’ve just been signed, I need to put my work on display and it doesn’t matter because most people probably don’t even know what I’m talking about.”

JLS: What’s the story behind the first track Cat Piss Junkie?
TS: People think it means a lot of different things, but I called it that because it was about a time in my life where everything felt bad. I didn’t have a job, everything was chaos. I felt like a complete waster, like an idiot, like I was just sitting there wasting away. Cat piss stinks, it absolutely stinks. One of the worst smells ever. That kind of summed up what I was feeling. This is shit, you know? Yeah, that’s what that is.

JLS: Do you write best when you’re in the middle of something, or once you let things simmer down a bit?
TS: I have a thing where if a song idea hits me, I dedicate the entire day to finishing it, getting it recorded that day. If I leave it sitting somewhere, it never happens. I’ve about 40 songs on my computer that will never be released because they were left unfinished. I’ve done crazy things, like holding in wees to finish chord progressions, because when an idea is there, it has to be captured. [laughs] I don’t really do demos. Once the idea is there, it has to exist. Cat Piss Junkie was recorded at 4am.

JLS: Is there a track on this EP that surprised you when it took form?
TS: Weekend, because that song’s pretty weird. Different bits in it are strange, and I just ran with it. It was recorded really late as well. I was fucking around with a tuning and found a new way of doing things on my computer. I added some effects to the guitar, and it was kind of feedbacking. When I sent it to Chris [Cullen, producer], he took some feedback out, but I liked it because it felt out of control. I had to noise-gate it, but it’s what made the song dark. Once it was finished, I listened to it like twenty times. It’s great, but also really weird.

“I have a thing where if a song idea hits me, I dedicate the entire day to finishing it…”

JLS: I love the weird, hypnotic end of that track. I know you like Ethel Cain and Sky Ferreira – what draws you to that darker, mysterious sound?
TS: Recently, I got into Xiu Xiu. A long time ago, I found a playlist called “scariest songs ever”, I listened to it in the dark and one song freaked me out. I can’t remember, I think it was Girl with a Basket of Fruit. I had to turn it off immediately because it freaked me out. I was sitting in my room like, “What on earth is this?” and I never went back to it. But when performing with TTSSFU, one band member had an Xiu Xiu T-shirt on, and I was like, “Get that away from me. I can’t with that band.” On tour, people talked about Xiu Xiu all the time. Matt [Deakin], my drummer, told me to give them a second go. I listened again, and it was on that tour, which was really dark. Now, they’re one of my favourite bands. They explore sounds you wouldn’t think to put together. My music isn’t as experimental as that, but songs like Sick and Weekend were driven by that influence. That guitar solo in Sick is ridiculous, but the song and subject matter are quite timid, so the solo gives it a bit of out-of-control energy. I try to capture that honesty and emotion in my music.

JLS: You have such a great natural presence on stage. Where does that energy come from? Do you feel different when performing?
TS: The first few tours, I was scared; everything went out the window. Then touring with Mannequin Pussy changed everything. Missy [Dabice] is a powerhouse performer. She knows what the songs mean to her, no embarrassment, fully confident. What I took from that is I need to take myself seriously and know I wrote these songs for a reason. Performing is weird because people stare at you, which made me uncomfortable. Missy doesn’t give a fuck. She’s got this force field around her. I learned that if something goes wrong, no one really cares. You have to push yourself into the deep end. Now I’m still nervous before shows, but I drive that energy into performance. If people don’t like it, sometimes that makes it even better. 

JLS: I love the lo-fi, analogue horror vibe of the Blown visuals. What are some of your favourite horror films or horror inspirations?
TS: I really like the film Possession. I think it’s incredible. I relate to it a lot because, the way I interpret it, she just feels completely out of control and loses it. There’s that scene in the subway or train station, where she’s just going crazy, whacking this bag. I feel like it’s a real female rage moment. She is completely unrestrained. I know it’s about her being possessed, but I think there are deeper levels to it. That sense of losing control really resonates with me. Then there’s Skinamarink. That film is so scary – it’s lo-fi and minimal, and it leaves so much to the imagination. That’s where I find the scariest things: when it’s left up to your mind to fill in the gaps. And this might be random, but when I was young, I used to be absolutely terrified of PSAs – old-fashioned public service announcements. I’d watch them on YouTube almost as a test to frighten myself. I can’t do it anymore. Nothing scares me more than real-life service announcements. For example, in the UK, when the Queen died, there were these TV announcements with music and a black screen. I stayed away from the TV all day because it was so ominous. It had nothing to do with her dying, it was just so stark and unsettling. That kind of thing really scares me.

“Manchester felt accepting and encouraging, with small venues where you could fuck up, be young and stupid, and actually learn.”

JLS: What can you tell me about the EP title, Blown?
TS: I don’t even know if it’s a real phrase, but it’s something my mom and I have said to each other our whole lives: “I feel blown.” If something really bad happens, or you’ve had a stressful day, you’d say, “Oh, I feel absolutely blown.” It’s that point where you can’t think anymore, you’re just so stressed and overwhelmed. It’s probably a shortened version of “mind blown” but it feels more severe, like being hit with whiplash – blown in every direction. The EP touches on so many different emotions – happiness, then really dark spots. That word summed it up for me, and I’ve used it my whole life.

JLS: Being near Manchester, did the scene there help shape your sound or live performances?
TS: Definitely. I always wanted to get to Manchester. It had like-minded people, the music, the scene. I never gigged in Wigan. Manchester felt accepting and encouraging, with small venues where you could fuck up, be young and stupid, and actually learn. My first show with Duvet was blackout drunk chaos, but the crowd loved it. We need spaces like that for young people to fuck up and figure it out.

Blown is out 29th August via Partisan Records.
TTSSFU tours Europe and the UK from September – November.