Having now heard three of their tracks, Minor Victories are damned sure for real:
When it comes to the language of rock and pop there can be few expressions as tedious as supergroup. It suggests stadium shows, bloated egos, rock ‘n’ roll cliché writ large.
“It gives you images of us all coming in on our private jets, or something,” says Stuart Braithwaite, of Mogwai and Minor Victories.
“I’m not entirely comfortable with the term supergroup, personally. It kind of made me cringe the first time that I read it,” adds Rachel Goswell, of Slowdive and Minor Victories.
“Although I’d rather they said we were a super group rather than a shit one,” Braithwaite wise-cracks, and everyone laughs. In fact the quartet around the table – Braithwaite, Goswell, Justin Lockey (of Editors, and Minor Victories), and brother James (of Hand Held Cine Club… and Minor Victories) – laugh frequently, naturally, the sense of kinship strong despite not necessarily knowing each other all that well.
Welcome to the strange world of Minor Victories. A supergroup that's definitely not a supergroup (and let’s banish that term for the duration). In fact they’re not even a band in the conventional sense – at least not initially. And whilst the protagonists may be familiar, that doesn’t mean the music has to be; with the debut, self-titled record about to drop, this is far from a rehash of day job musicality. In fact, the way the band tell it, the album’s formation was more an exercise in remote-distance bricolage; a lost and found record, focused upon grace, nuance, flight…
Their new album was made in a very hands off way--through sending files and collaborating over E-mail. I predict everyone will make albums like this from now on once they hear this thing.