Cover Feature To Infinity and Beyond: The Big Moon

Off stage, at least, The Big Moon have the collective attention spans of four sherbet-addicted goldfish. Most of the time, they’re not especially interested in discussing, y’know, their band. A pre-show pint almost immediately turns into a far-reaching monologue from vocalist Jules Jackson about the original founders of McDonald’s, accidental sleeve pyrotechnics from chief guitar-shredder Soph Nathan, general rambling delirium from bassist Celia Archer, and the chaotic aftermath of resident drum-pounder Fern Ford dropping her phone down the loo. A quick sit-down over lunch, fresh out of astronaut costumes, soon becomes a dedicated tactical discussion analysing The Big Moon’s brand new football team - and their first ever match - instead. In other words, it’s quite an experience trying to keep up with this lot. And, above all else, The Big Moon feel like a proper gang.

A couple of years back, it was a different story. After writing songs in her bedroom, all on her tod, Jules Jackson was after a band to help her bring things to life; but a group of decent backing musicians just wouldn’t cut the proverbial mustard. “I definitely wanted it to be a gang,” she states today. Introduced to instrument-wielding friends of friends, after a series of pleading statuses and text messages, Jules eventually found the rest of The Big Moon, bit by bit. From the minute they rallied together, sacked off the awkward small talk, and played in the same room, the four of them knew there was no going back. “Serendipity,” announces Celia. “You could feel it. Jules had a little cry, we all had a little hug. We were the final pieces!”

“I have a recording from the first time we… jammed,” Fern smirks. “The chat is so awkward, because we just don’t know each other,” she tells Jules. “You’re speaking in this weird way, which must be what Jules is like when she doesn’t know someone! It’s like ‘ooo, ah! Oh dear!”

“I kind of wish I could go back and watch it again,” reminisces Soph, mid-way through a helping of dhal. “Two years ago! We’ve changed!” As if on cue, she immediately changes tact, too. “Jules!” Soph yells suddenly, alarmed. “Get that buttery salt patch on some bread before it goes!”