North Atlas are a band built from contrasts: ancient myth meets modern ritual, raw live energy meets cinematic visuals. Since emerging from the windswept edges of the Solway Firth, they’ve carved a path through the UK scene with immersive performances and genre-bending intensity.
Now, as they prepare for their debut at Belladrum Festival—with a set timed perfectly to sundown—they’re reflecting on their origins, their spiritual evolution, and how their latest work, Hymn to the Sun, channels everything from Celtic lore to the rhythms of nature.
How much of North Atlas is still that band born on the edge of the Solway Firth—and how much has shifted through cities, touring, and new influences?
The countryside never really left us. When we started out in bands we would book little village halls out and put on our own gigs. There was no infrastructure. It was just the ‘alt’ kids from surrounding towns hanging out with bottles of cider wearing quirky outfits. We sort of felt like outsiders when we were young so it was really just about getting together, playing music and trying to make something new.
At that time the thought of playing in a city like Glasgow, let alone London seemed like a million miles away. In a very real way now that we’ve done that, it still feels the same. The ‘Heathen Underground’ tour we did last September felt like the old days, in London people were climbing on the bar and wearing wreaths on their heads. I’ve seen a lot of crazy stuff touring round the cities of the UK and met a lot of other performers from all over the world, which has influenced us for sure, but in many ways we’re still boys from the countryside trying to make something new.
Back in 2017, you spoke about crafting music that worked live without relying on backing tracks. Has that commitment to raw, live energy evolved with your newer material like Hymn to the Sun—or does it still anchor how you build your sound?
During our song called ‘Seer’ we’re often joined by extra drummers & dancers (called the Strawboys) for a sort of ritual performance, which draws back to old Celtic tradition. It’s become important to us to bring something of where we’re from to the stage as well as a human & unpredictable energy. We have some strong singers in the band too which helps us do more complex harmonies live, and use the voices like an organic instrument.
Every time we play a new song we really push ourselves to do something we think will be interesting and this way the set has built up to have a whole life of its own. There have been so many rock bands out there since the 60s and our favourite ones have always pushed themselves to incorporate new live elements each time. Zeppelin would play guitars with violin bows, Twenty One Pilots would use Ukuleles, Heilung would use Bodhráns, and so it goes on.
North Atlas over the years
Releasing a sunrise song on the summer solstice is bold—did the timing shape the writing, or was it more about the vibe you wanted listeners to feel?
Hymn to the Sun feels like a spiritual departure, yet still grounded in your signature intensity. What inspired you to channel solar mythology and ritual into this dual release—and why now?
I am trying to write songs connected to truthful things. And it’s true that in many ways you can’t argue with nature. In part the idea was inspired by the fact that the rising and setting of the sun naturally defines when we all wake up and go to sleep.
I think perhaps many of us have lost a connection to the rhythm of the world around us because we spend so much time attached to screens in infinite scrolls and instant messages, I know at times I have.
Imagine the absence of all electronic devices for a moment, in such a world the rising and setting of the sun would be a huge moment in each day.
The idea with the songs being released as live streams at sunrise and sundown on the Solstice was to encourage people to go outside and watch the sun rise and set with us, the same sun we can all see. A collective experience, which is rarer now than ever. As I was watching the sun rise overlooking my hometown on the morning of the Solstice it made me feel a human connection to everyone else who was doing the same elsewhere, it made me think about other people, and their hometowns and for a moment there was an absence of loneliness. Imagine the absence of all electronic devices for a moment, in such a world the rising and setting of the sun would be a huge moment in each day.
You’ve revisited themes of shadow and light across your work—from The Longest Shadow Attached to the Ankle to Hymn to the Sun. Do those contrasts reflect something personal, or are they more rooted in cultural myth and identity?
I seem to naturally live in the extremes of lightness and darkness, metaphorically of course. I’m both hugely optimistic and pessimistic. So yes the themes are very personal. You have to write from your own perspective, right?
Something I’ve come to understand is that life seems to force a balance of light and dark. When we try to live in the good things for too long they become bad for us. If I got everything I always wanted after a while I would become so bored. I reckon the darker parts of our mind provide a certain ‘roughage’, there we go, optimism about pessimism, I’m balanced by my own extremes.
But you know, it is also cultural. From a young age the Scots ‘lore which surrounded us in the countryside tended to stick, there was an intensity about that too. You know, even Tam o’ Shanter, written by a guy from my town, way back, it’s a story about being steamin’ and being chased by terrifying witches. When we were young we used to hang out at the Wickerman Festival near Dundrennan. At the end of the weekend they would burn a real-life giant wicker man effigy in reference to a fictional story of a Scottish policeman who was sacrificed by a cult. The stories have been woven into our real lives and that mythical darkness we seem to instinctively associate with music.
You’ve always embraced bold visuals—from Icelandic landscapes to esoteric symbolism. How has your approach to video and visual storytelling changed since those early releases like “HAL” and “Orange”?
I think we have always been driving at something cultural with bands and projects we did before but I feel we’re now starting to understand ourselves a bit better with the first two North Atlas EPs. We are fortunate now to be surrounded by a group of artists, photographers and videographers who get the vision for the visuals we’re going for.
The band’s visual style—from cairnstones to ritual dance—has become as distinctive as the music itself. How important is that fusion of sonic and symbolic storytelling to you when shaping new releases?
Maybe I have become fatigued with the global internet and a lack of connection to our immediate environment. We forget sometimes that we all have a context outside of the internet in which we live and if we don’t speak to that then we run the risk of just losing huge swathes of our culture. Scotland isn’t just about Trad music and shortbread, although both are delicious, our country also has space for all the heavy darkness in our peoples’ souls. It’s a cold wild place full of mystery and myths and we’re often an outspoken and frustrated bunch too. I like to think some of that is contained in our visuals.
Leon and Cam, you’ve got that creative shorthand only siblings can share. Has your relationship always been the engine behind North Atlas’s direction, or has the dynamic shifted as the band’s grown?
In short, yes, but now members and artists have come on-board who have played a huge part in making the band, style and especially the live show everything that it is. In that sense it is becoming more of a collective, than even a band. Having been in other bands before I think the line-up we have in North Atlas is very special and everyone involved I think of as great friends and impressively fierce performers. I’m very proud of them.
Belladrum celebrates both Celtic heritage and new voices—how are you approaching your set for a festival rooted in the Highlands’ own mythology and musical legacy?
Our set time just so happens to be at Sundown, so we will play Hymn to the Sun for the first time live at Belladrum Festival this year at just that very moment. It will be special for us, because it’s our first time performing a set which we’ve built especially to celebrate summer. festivals. The essence of that is no different from what people have done on this island in summer time for literally thousands of years. We are still those people. I think Scottish people do festivals right: when we played at Download people were there in kilts with saltires. A festival in Scotland itself is special because the people make it so.
We’ll have a few surprises in store, so at Sundown on Belladrum Saturday, you’ll know where to find us,
North Atlas are a band deeply rooted in landscape, myth, and connection—whether through sunrise rituals or electrifying live shows. At Belladrum, expect fire, folklore, and something unforgettable.
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