Eve ate from the forbidden fruit, the Book of Genesis tells us, and God punished her by making her “pains in childbearing very severe”. Would you say the punishment fit the crime? Was it a crime to disobey God’s orders in the first place? Ask Brighton-based quartet The New Eves and you’ll get the same blunt answer to both questions: No! Just listen to their debut single, “Original Sin”, from 2023.
“I’d say if God denies you apples / Grab the apples and make pie” is their advice for Eve on that song, and they’re not being flippant. In fact, the lines that follow make it clear that not only are they dead serious, they would actively support her rebellion: “The serpent is your ally / Your witness is the sky / And every woman is your sister / And we whisper / You’ll be fine / You’ll be just fine.” It’s a defiant stance against authority and the status quo, which is The New Eves’ aesthetic in a nutshell.
Formed in the aftermath of lockdown and named after the titular character in The Passion of New Eve, Angela Carter’s dystopian novel that centres around mythology and sexuality, the band doesn’t believe in doing things a certain way. Besides the instruments typically associated with a classic four-piece rock group, the violin, the cello and the flute play just as essential a role, and each member – Violet Farrer (guitar, violin), Kate Mager (bass), Ella Oona Russell (drums, flute) and Nina Winder-Lind (cello, guitar) – also sings. Or not so much sings as recites, whispers, chants, yells. And quite honestly, a look at their lineup won’t give you even a crude approximation of how they sound.
The New Eves’ music is like a mix of primal rock ‘n’ roll, reckless post-punk, experimental freak folk and radical poetry played outdoors at a transcendent ritual. Does that help? OK, let me try something else. They could have soundtracked the 1973 cult classic – fantasy, horror, thriller? – The Wicker Man. A lot like the film, the quartet’s debut full-length, The New Eve Is Rising, is impossible to define, and that’s not the only similarity between the two. I can think of a whole host of adjectives that describe both: eerie, atmospheric, mysterious, suspenseful, bucolic, hypnotic. And, above all, riveting.
Russell has likened the band to “a Venn diagram, and then in the centre is a different person”. What that “person” creates, clichéd as it sounds, is much greater than the sum of its parts, and it doesn’t follow an agenda or try to meet expectations. Driven by a poetic honesty and their shared love of history, literature and the creative arts, The New Eves will write songs about anything happening in their lives and the world, as long as they’re passionate about it. That’s how they grow, tearing up the rulebook and using an alternative method of creating music in the process. What makes this possible is the raw, undefined, open space that is the band itself.
It’s an immersive world that feels poles apart from much of contemporary pop but at the same time draws from musical traditions that have endured for decades or centuries. And as far as the lyrics, the source of inspiration can even be thousands of years old, like the Old Testament story of (Adam and) Eve, which the band uses to draft a kind of manifesto for the opening track, “The New Eve”.
“The New Eve is of earth / Granite, ochre, magma, dirt” is how proceedings start, with the song serving both as an incantation and an invitation into the band’s vast universe. Regardless of their gender, everyone’s welcome to define or redefine themselves as they see fit, to become “wild and full of purpose, tender and ferocious”. The music is just as inclusive, providing equal opportunities for foreboding strings, a frantic rhythm section and uninhibited chanting. It nods to The Velvet Underground, Sonic Youth, and Patti Smith, and yet it’s something else entirely.
Lead single “Highway Man” is a retelling of Alfred Noyes’ 1906 classic, flipping the poem on its head by turning the woman into the protagonist. Propelled by a bass line that calls to mind krautrock band Ash Ra Tempel’s early output, the song grabs and carries you towards some blistering yet exquisite musical chaos. You’re riding, riding, riding as the guitars are bashed, the violin screeches, and the lines are hurled at you with the raw power of a young PJ Harvey. It’s one of those magical moments when you surrender to the sheer force of music.
This intensity is ever present. “Cow Song” and “Mid Air Glass” may not have the fast tempo of the other tracks to push them forward, but they’re just as powerful – their strength lies in The New Eves’ uncompromising pursuit of self-expression. The group can write about the beginning of the universe (“Circles”), the Spanish tradition of carrying statues of Mary during the Holy Week (“Mary”) or the offspring of 12th century lovers (“Astrolabe”); rest assured there are no holds barred. “Oh to be without sense! / Oh to be without control!” they yell on the eight-and-a-half-minute closer “Volcano”, showing in the process how that sounds and feels.
Genuine feeling comes through without a filter, and if letting go of restraint means writing on a toy accordion, striking matches or whispering lyrics into a bat detector, that’s what The New Eves will do. “We’re seeing how far we can go as four people creating our own mythology,” Russell has said. Their first tale, The New Eve Is Rising, leaves no doubt that they can go very, very far.
The New Eves: The New Eve Is Rising – Out 1 August 2025 (Transgressive)
