the band

The characters, voices and imagined world behind The Sunday Static.

A group of friends began meeting in a weathered farmhouse somewhere in southern England — not by the sea, but close enough not to miss it. Sundays became a refuge from the weekly noise, a deliberate act of slowing down. Records from the ’60s and ’70s spun endlessly: British music built on space, tension, and restraint. That shared language became the glue.

Life there returned to something analogue: imperfect, physical, unrepeatable. Old speakers hissed, instruments slipped slightly out of tune, and mistakes were left where they landed. Static wasn’t interference — it was texture, the sound of things being real.

Music arrived without much ceremony. Someone sat at the piano, another answered with a guitar, and others listened more than they played. Songs took shape slowly, guided by pauses as much as by notes. Nothing rushed, nothing polished — only attention.

That fragile balance — calm and friction, silence and noise — became their identity. Sundays gave them the time. Static gave them the sound.

Oliver shapes much of the band’s harmonic identity through Hammond organ, Wurlitzer lines, analogue synths, and warm extended chords. Quick with a joke but careful with a chord, he brings a lightness to the room that never turns careless.

Drawing on jazz harmony, groove, and a strong sense of space, he builds parts that support the emotional shape of the songs without taking over. His playing is often felt more than noticed, adding colour, depth, and a slightly funky edge to the band’s sound.

Ellie gives the band’s low end its shape, weight, and quiet momentum. Sunny but introverted, she has a way of keeping things grounded without pulling attention toward herself — the kind of presence that can make a room feel steadier.

Her bass lines often carry their own melodic identity, supporting the groove while adding small, unexpected turns. She plays with restraint and instinct, knowing when to hold everything together, leave space, or let the bass step forward just enough to make the whole thing glow.

Dan brings precision, feel, and a controlled sense of unpredictability to the drums. Calm by nature and quietly observant, he has the kind of patience you might expect from someone used to sharing a home with Maisie, his Old English Sheepdog.

His parts are economical without being flat, built around movement, dynamics, and the small shifts that make a song lift. Alongside Ellie, he keeps the band grounded while leaving enough air for the guitars, voices, and keyboards to breathe.

Jamie is one of the main shaping forces behind the band’s arrangements, often helping turn first ideas into finished songs. Curious, restless in the best way, and always willing to try one more sound before calling something done, he is drawn to music that feels raw at times, but never accidental.

His guitar work is warm, direct, and carefully placed, shaped by classic valve amplifiers, melodic economy, and a love of sixties colour without simple imitation. He often refines by subtraction, giving the songs a sense of proportion: complete, focused, and never overcrowded.

Martha gives the band much of its emotional and lyrical pull. Her voice can stay close and delicate when the feeling is fragile, then cut through with more power when it catches fire.

Drawn to poetry and to things that show their age, she writes with an eye for memory, doubt, closeness, and the details people almost say aloud. Her guitar work follows the same instinct: textured, spacious, and rooted in blues and early British rock, adding tension and atmosphere without crowding the arrangement.