Los Campesinos!: ‘We were on £750 a month – then the label took it away’

After 20 years on the fringes of the mainstream, a defiant spark and a sense of purpose continue to fuel Los Campesinos!. Since leaving behind their former label and management company, who felt that the cult indie band had run its course, they have brought their socialist ethos to the fore and unexpectedly become more popular than ever.

“In the early years, there was an element of being encouraged not to alienate people because we were a vehicle to make money for the music industry,” says lead singer and lyricist Gareth Paisey. “Since that’s not been the case, it’s enabled us to do everything completely on our own terms. I think that’s the band that we were always meant to be and that we truly are now. We’re absolutely resolute in what we perceive as being good and bad. The sense of duty that we feel and how we can fulfil that.”

At the end of May, LC! embark on their Vicennial Cringe tour in what they pointedly term an acknowledgment, not a celebration, of two decades in music. It’s been a tale of persistence and reinvention. While many of their contemporaries from the mid-2000s indie scene have faded away, flamed out, or broken up and then reformed, LC! have doggedly endured.

Their sound has matured considerably from the hyperactive twee pop of Hold on Now, Youngster…, but consistent themes remain, notably in Paisey’s elaborate lyrics, which fluctuate between the earnestly confessional and the playfully obscure. Millennial despair, thwarted romance and hopeless yearning still abound, as do niche football references, inspiring a deep connection with long-term fans.

LC! have reached some important milestones recently. In 2024, the band self-released All Hell, their seventh album, and first for seven years, which went to number 14 in the UK charts, making it by far their most successful. They also played Barcelona’s famous Primavera Sound festival and performed their biggest headline shows to crowds of 3,000 at Troxy in East London.

Buoyed by a sudden influx of young fans, most of whom discovered them through a gaming streamer, LC! are consistently selling out bigger venues than they have before. “It’s crazy that we can do better as an independent band, several years later, when everything suggests that we should have continued on a downward trend,” says Paisey. “All of those markers are really legitimising and rewarding.”

LC! formed at Cardiff University in 2006 and soon signed to Wichita Recordings, alongside the likes of Bloc Party and The Cribs. Each of their seven members was put on a wage of £750 a month. Driven by excitement and the need to earn their keep, they were intensely productive, releasing four albums between 2008 and 2011.

“Those four years were really fucking tough,” recalls Paisey. “Nearly all of us ended up back with our parents after that period because we’d flown too close to the sun. Once we were told, in 2011, that ‘we’re going to take you off the wage’ – bear in mind that the management and label were still making money off us, just not enough money for us to have any of it – I think there was a brief moment of, ‘Does that mean that’s it, then?’”

The band’s lineup had stabilised following some early turbulence, and everyone resolved that they were in it for the long haul. Rather than give up on their greatest passion, day jobs were found to support it. LC! became a sideline rather than a primary focus as the next six years yielded just two more albums.

Their fanbase might be relatively small, but its fierce loyalty, which is cultivated by the band both online and in person, has helped to sustain them during fallow periods. The recording of 2017’s Sick Scenes was funded by the sale of LC!-themed football shirts. When Covid hit, and live music ground to a halt, Paisey found himself fulfilling thousands of merch orders from his garage.

“There’s a great sense of community and camaraderie,” says Paisey. “There’s a big group of us [in the band] and people can imagine themselves either being in that group or having a similar relationship with their own mates. I would like to think that we have always shown gratitude towards people who like our band, both in terms of thanking them and giving good service.”

The importance of merch revenue was underlined earlier this month, when LC! published a detailed financial breakdown of their last American tour. Based on ticket sales alone, they would have lost money. Their transparency invited accusations of waste and poor planning from armchair accountants, but Paisey is determined to highlight the unseen expenses and logistical pressures that bands face.

As it gets harder to make a living from music – with the rise of touring costs and rapacious streaming giants like Spotify – most bands instinctively continue to operate the same way, only in exchange for diminishing returns. In contrast, LC! have felt liberated by managing themselves and doing things differently.

“I just feel like nobody is going to get, or care about, this band as much as I do,” explains Paisey. “I think we’re at that sweet spot, as a lot of bands are, where you can do it if you can be arsed. But the music industry is set up in such a way that it wants artists to think that it’s impossible. That everything is far too complex and if I don’t have somebody guiding my every decision, and taking 20 percent of all my income, then everything will fall to pieces.”

LC! have increasingly sought to challenge other music industry conventions through their idiosyncratic approach to touring. The band only play venues that are independently owned, accessible, have gender-neutral toilets, and take no cut of merch revenue. They make five per cent of tickets available at a cheaper rate for unemployed or low-income fans, and to encourage better representation, won’t enlist support acts with an exclusively male lineup.

“These are all changes that bands can make that lead to a more equitable and inclusive live-music space,” says Paisey. “But it’s just so much easier to carry on doing things exactly the same as they have for all of their career and not questioning it.”

Beyond offering vocal support to the trans rights and “free Palestine” movements, LC! have donated proceeds from their work to these and other causes. They strive for authenticity, which has helped to develop a fanbase that feels committed to more than just their music. Last year, they turned down $60,000 from Airbnb, who wanted to use one of their songs in an advert.

“If a certain group of people, or cause, is under attack, then that’s always a good time to show some solidarity with them,” says Paisey. “A really significant portion of our fanbase is trans and non-binary. I think it does mean a lot to them that they can see us actively showing support. For every person that we upset because of our forthright opinions, we make hundreds, thousands of our fans feel safer.”

Although only Paisey works for LC! full time, the rest of his bandmates are drawing a regular income from it again. Crucially, unlike at the start of their career, this wage is one they have control over. The money might not be enough for them to quit their day jobs, but it makes a huge difference to their lives. In such a fickle and precarious business, its symbolic value shouldn’t be underestimated either.

Paisey might be reluctant to wallow in nostalgia, but he admits that he recently made a significant addition to his calendar. As of 3 October 2026, exactly half of his 40 years of life will have been spent in LC!. “It means fucking everything to me. It’s weird, isn’t it? I’d like to think it’s not my whole identity, but it’s something that I put so much into, both artistically and managing the band,” he says.

“It’s something I’m very proud of, and I think I’ve become more proud of as the years have gone on. And it’s something that I still feel has a lot of legs left in it, in terms of what we can do creatively, but also the pressure we can apply, and the changes we can make, to the wider music industry. That’s my hope now.”

Los Campesinos!’ Vicennial Cringe tour continues on 4 June (loscampesinos.com)