Any Young Mechanic's five members are piled onto a couch like they're in a sitcom's opening credits. They're in the midst of a promo day – which, for those unfamiliar, are exhausting slogs of peddling your wares (an album, film, sitcom etc) in one interview after another. Inevitably, you're being asked a lot of the same questions over and over.
The Adelaide indie folk band happily confirm they've not been asked any of the more rote questions (what's it like being in a band, where they get their ideas from, etc.), but you simply never know when you'll end up in that uninspiring firing line.
“I don't enjoy being asked what songs are about,” says Sam Wilson, the band's lead vocalist and guitarist. “First of all, I'm very bad at answering it coherently.
“Secondly, I believe people should have an opportunity to come out analysing something themselves – because that's generally more rewarding than being told. I don't want to knock it too much, but people have been asking us what the album title means – and then, in the lead-up, basically telling us they already know.”
To be fair to those hapless journalists, the debut album from Any Young Mechanic is certainly titled in an intriguing, provocative manner: The Modern Shoe Is Ruining The Foot. No questions were asked about its meaning (make your own, people), but curiosity lingered over which member coined the phrase.
Turns out, none of them: “A friends of ours said it after seeing sponsored ads on his phone,” laughs Wilson.
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It almost feels like a Subway Take, but Wilson points out their friend said this circa 2023 – back when that was merely a fledgling channel and not the cultural juggernaut it now stands as. Even mentioning the viral show sparks something in Wilson: “You wanna know my Subway Take?” he says. “People are calling everything a take now. You've just had a thought!”
100% agree. At this point, bassist Allan McBean takes up the baton: “By the way, more kids should die in movies,” he says. “Movies have a real problem with stakes these days! Imagine that as your inciting incident.”
“It's gotta be a convincing death,” adds Wilson. “It can't be terminal, because that's the easy way out. It's gotta be like the way characters die in Jurassic Park.”
Drummer Jay Eliot Mee perks up: “Fuck, imagine if the kids died in Jurassic Park,” he says. “You watch it just knowing they won't, because it'd violate some kind of blockbuster principle. But you'd be so much more scared of the dinosaurs!”
We're five minutes in by now, and while plenty of laughs have been had we've barely scratched the sole (as it were) of The Modern Shoe.
That's not to detract from the album at all, by the way. In fact, it might be one of 2026's best: A raw, unrefined and hearty collection of songs blending rollicking bluegrass with imagery-driven folk music in a manner that feels both timeless and entirely of the now.
That's a particularly interesting aspect too, given it's literally anachronistic; recorded back in 2023 over three days (with no overdubs, they'll proudly add), the album finally arrived back in June.
Why didn't this promo day happen in 2023? “We would've had nobody to talk to,” says Mee. “Nobody would've known.” Wilson agrees: “It takes a long time to get people interested in something, especially in the Australian media landscape. Getting the country to trust its own youth can be challenging at the best of times.”
McGee rolls his eyes. “We had this one meeting back in 2024, where someone point-blank told us that in order for these songs to go anywhere, we'd have to go viral on TikTok,” he says – the disgust on the final two syllables going off like gunshots.
“It's unfortunately a really common conversation that people in this industry have.” Violinist Thea Martin has entered the chat. “Prior to this band, none of us had been in any band that had any kind of real infrastructure around it.
“Management, booking agents, label deals... these are all still very new to us. Thanks to them, though, we've had to avoid a lot of really demeaning chats about social media. We all knew we didn't have it in us.”
Luka Kilgariff-Johnson – who alternates between banjo and guitar – is the last of the five to speak. He makes it count, though, as he creates an analogy for The Modern Shoe's 2023 creation and 2026 release. “
You know how when you see a caterpillar, it's kinda gross?” he begins. “Then you see it go into chrysalis, and you're not really sure what's happening, but then eventually the butterfly emerges. You see it and you're like, 'wow – this was in there the whole time?' We're in the butterfly stage of being a band right now.”
Wilson grins, turning the band into The Very Hungry Caterpillar. “First day in the studio, we ate all the apples...” Martin, refusing to sanction their bandmates' buffoonery, turns talk to the recent international interest in the band.
For them, being able to play in places like the UK – where most of the audience couldn't even point to Adelaide on a map – has allowed the songs on The Modern Shoe to take on a new life.
“It was so far out of the realm of possibility,” they continue. “It's such a privilege to have people on the other side of the world hear the songs and care about them.” A grin comes across their face before they reveal they’re just as mischievous as the others.
“In Australia? You could've seen us,” they deadpan sardonically. “You had years to!” After another big laugh, Wilson chimes in. “Those audience relationships overseas feel more naturally new,” he says. “This is new on both sides. At first it felt quite incongruous, but it's recently felt a lot better.”
The band's slow-burn ascent could also be attributed to their hometown – which, despite consistently producing great bands, rarely gets the same kind of ongoing attention as Sydney or Melbourne.
“The reality of Adelaide is it's a lot of the same people at shows,” says Martin matter-of-factly. “We love our really small creative community, and we all really care about each other, but for the longest time we were all just going to each other's gigs.
“This is probably the first band I've been in where people are coming into these spaces with their own relationships to the music in their own lives, away from our own.”
These talking points feel akin to things recently said in interviews by fellow Adelaide band Swapmeet, who also recently put out their debut album, Mount Zero. The very mention of their name causes chaos. “That's one of the few instances in which we agree with Swapmeet,” says Wilson, as a fit of giggles makes its way across the couch.
“I know they value their free speech,” says McBean, “but I just think they take it too far.” “We were with them at Adelaide airport the other day,” says a leaned-in Wilson, “and their behaviour was disgraceful.”
“Members of staff were almost called!” yells Mee. This shit-talk is offered to be stricken from the record, but McBean insists it's left in: “Push the big red button,” he insists. So be it. Swapmeet, you've been warned.
We're running out of time, and the article is already far longer than usual just to truly capture the madness, so we decide to end on something wholesome and positive: Each band member saying their favourite part of the album that the person to their right did.
Mee, at one end of the couch, speaks of Wilson at the other. “Sam made some really excellent lyrical decisions on this record,” he says.
“I really love the delayed gratification with the structure of I Never Met An Engine Don't Need Tanks. Being able to convey something really heartfelt by using objects that are often seen as quite functional in order to express a genuine sentiment, and to do that in a setup/knockdown of three verses where you only drop the title at the end? I really get a kick out of it.”
Wilson turns to Martin. “I love how you worked the viola into Every Time You Put Me Up,” he says. “We rehearsed that maybe once? I think it's such an unusual kind of experimental art, and it works so well with what everyone is doing. The way you've transposed it to violin live, that's really great too.”
Martin turns to Kilgariff-Johnson. “There's something about Snug Barber,” they add. “Luka played two different banjo parts on the record, and the start of that song is just so beautiful. I love how it was arranged, and the bit where it's just banjo and Sam's voice is really beautiful.”
Kilgariff-Johnson, beaming, says that he has “the most authority on this conceit,” due to having once filled in on bass for McBean. “It gave me great insight for these songs and a lot of the parts, he says.
“I've gotta go with the little diminished thing Allan does at the end of Every Time. I love the bowing on the double bass. I also have to mention the outro of Write You Wrong – Allan goes crazy, and it's gotten more crazy as the live shows have gone on. I was not able to pull it off the same way when I when I played that show, but I tried my darnedest.”
Lastly, McBean gives his rhythm section partner Mee props. “It's so hard to pick just one moment,” he says. “I do think of Captain And Compass with the little flutter thing. Every time that comes up, there's a little bit of excitement for me. It's just such a great part that.
“Best of all, on I Never Met An Engine, you do away with the drums entirely and bring out a totally different instrument: the glockenspiel. That adds whole other layer of colour to the song, which I think is a great idea.”
Yes, Any Young Mechanic are chaotic. But they're also kind – and one of our most exciting new bands.
Any Young Mechanic’s The Modern Shoe Is Ruining The Foot is out now, with tickets to their Australian tour on sale now.
Any Young Mechanic – Australian Tour Dates
September 1st-4th – BIGSOUND, Fortitude Valley, QLD
September 11th – The Grace Emily, Adelaide, SA
September 13th – The Old Bar, Fitzroy, VIC
October 1st – The Vanguard, Sydney, NSW
October 4th – Yours And Owls, Wollongong, NSW
This piece of content has been assisted by the Australian Government through Music Australia and Creative Australia, its arts funding and advisory body
