Out of sight

As an electronica duo who thrive on collaboration, lockdown for Orbital was hell. With a new album finally on the horizon, Phil Hartnoll tells Kevin Fullerton how they won over a new generation of fans

After a period of reactionary works like Fred again..’s dance-music diary Actual Life or the romcom flop Locked Down, 2023 may be the year when artists find the vocabulary necessary to reflect on covid in expansive terms. Films like Enys Men have foregrounded the existential drudgery of isolated routine, while Young Fathers’ new album Heavy Heavy seeks a salve for listeners as it chronicles the social and political ramifications of a period spent in professional and creative purgatory. Even The Last Of Us, HBO’s blockbuster TV adaptation of the popular videogame, invites viewers to draw comparisons between its fungus-infected dystopia and the most gruelling aspects of a global pandemic.

Orbital’s tenth studio album, Optical Delusion, weighs into similar territory. Its opening track ‘Ringa Ringa’ uses the plague-inspired nursery rhyme ‘Ring A Ring O’ Roses’ as a counterpoint to the electronica duo’s trademark glitchy sound, reminding the listener that while history may not repeat, it does rhyme. The pandemic also altered the way that Orbital work on an album. It was the first time Phil and Paul Hartnoll (brothers who have collaborated since 1989) produced tracks separately, creating a work of noticeably differing sensibilities. ‘I personally tried to avoid writing anything about the pandemic,’ Phil says. ‘It was enough to experience it. I was shielding because I’ve got really bad lungs. And I found out I’ve got ADHD around then, so I spent the days trapped in the house driving my wife mad.’

Paul wrote the most politically scabrous works on the album such as ‘Dirty Rat’, which features Sleaford Mods’ Jason Williamson spitting, ‘you voted for them/look at you, you dirty rat’, to voice the collective anger at a failed political system. Phil’s contribution takes a lighter approach, emphasising the desire for connection we’ve all felt after emerging from lockdown, a theme which proves itself amenable to dance music’s inherent communality.

The music feels like an extension of Phil’s outwardly giving personality. To talk to him is to experience a pinballing brain rolling from one idea to the next with a Tiggerish enthusiasm and an obvious love of people. But it’s not a personality trait he necessarily attributes to his creative process. ‘I can’t really see what anybody else might like. I can only get stuck into what I’m doing and keep my fingers crossed that people will like it. I always dig it, and it’s a question of will anyone else? Thankfully, that’s worked.’

His approach also creates some of the most memorable moments on the album, particularly its woozy closer ‘Moon Princess’, featuring the legendary Japanese electronic music singer-songwriter Coppé indulging in lyrical abstractions over a skittering beat. She joins a roll call of great collaborators, including Anna B Savage, Penelope Isles, The Little Pest and Dina Ipavic. Yet the process of collaboration was, again, hampered by covid’s long shadow. ‘That’s the thing with isolation: I love bouncing off people. I might start a track but I love other people to finish it. That’s what keeps me alive. It made lockdown a complete nightmare. If I’m left on my own, it’s not good.’

The Optical Delusion of the title, alluding to the ideological silos people have created for themselves in an increasingly polarised society, is present in Orbital’s lyrical concerns.But their music remains an open call to hit the dancefloor and lose yourself, an invite which has led to a younger generation embracing the band. ‘We’ve got a really lovely audience. We’ve watched them grow up with us, and now they bring their kids. Some of them bring their grandkids. It’s a brilliant indoctrination.’

Optical Delusion is released by London Records on Friday 17 February; Orbital play SWG3, Glasgow, Tuesday 28 March.