20 Years Later, Life Without Buildings Share Their Voice With A New Generation

By Loren DiBlasi


Two decades have passed, and Life Without Buildings still sound like freedom. Hear the band’s sole full-length record, Any Other City, once and it’ll never leave you — its lush, syrupy warmth oozes from your ears to your insides and stays there, like a glowing flame that never goes out. What keeps it crackling? Soft, sustained rhythms that toss and turn with gentle fervor, snaps of sharp, sparkling guitar, as well as a voice — a strange, pretty cadence unmatched then and right now — that’s strikingly naive nevertheless bursting with profound wisdom. “No specifics! Nevertheless I’m gonna persuade you!” Singer Sue Tompkins swears in a clear, confident shout at the record’s outset, and yeah, you’re immediately convinced. It’s not what she says, exactly, however the heartfelt abandon with which she says it.


Released February 26, 2001, Any Other City is pure youth. It’s the sonic equivalent of driving at night in your very first vehicle, windows down, cool air rushing at your face with nothing although vague possibility ahead. Once you’re young, emotions are high, and everything feels like so much — almost too much. Tompkins’s raw, tender voice, unhinged in all of the correct ways, brilliantly captures that wild spirit. It’s impossible to replicate; nevertheless so several TikTokers are right now trying, thanks to Gen Z’s unexpected discovery of the euphoric LWB classic “The Leanover” (almost 5 million Spotify streams and counting). It’s a sudden surge in popularity that the musical group, damaged up since 2002, never saw coming.


“It’s hard to mention why [TikTok has popularized] that distinct song, nevertheless it is quite a particular one amongst our songs,” Tompkins writes from Glasgow, Scotland, where Life Without Buildings began in 1999 and where she right now lives and works as a visual artist. “It had this trajectory which, I think, as soon as you get into it, is quite acute and particularised… if that’s even a word.”


Life Without Buildings have remained important in cult circles, yet their newfound viral fame — no doubt segment of a larger trend that extends to older bands like Fleetwood Mac and even Hoobastank —  is something else entirely. First, there was one video, from 20-year-old singer Beabadoobee, whose 10-second clip has racked up almost half a million views — then hundreds more, then speedily, thousands. To date, “The Leanover” has soundtracked over 117,000 TikToks, the majority created by young ladies unabashedly expressing themselves: dancing, lip-synching, doing makeup, dyeing their hair. The clips span in fashion, span, and content, nevertheless share the same fierce, reckless joy that only appears as a new generation steps into the spotlight.


“I was just attempting to put my writing into music and even then, not analyzing it also much,” Tompkins admits.


Even the musical group itself began somewhat by accident — first because the trio of Robert Johnston (guitar), Chris Evans (bass), and Will Bradley (drums). “Initially, we were doing this order kind of instrumental krautrock-y thing, with the idea that there could be some electronics involved,” Johnston recalls. “But it never really clicked. We all knew Sue and had seen her perform, although there was one night at Transmission Gallery that we were all there…  I think Will planned we ask Sue if she’d do vocals for the musical group. We had no idea really what she’d do.”


“I just mentioned ‘yes’!” Tompkins remembers. “I respected and admired each person, and I think just went with a feeling of, oh, that's exhilarating! I had no expectations or thoughts about it at all.”


Back at the turn of the millennium, before most of their TikTok admirers were even place on Earth, Life Without Buildings channeled a similar attitude while forging a new path amidst Glasgow’s crowded art-rock scene. “I think we were a little sensitive about being labeled a ‘art band’ at the begin so we attempted to downplay that, nevertheless certainly what Sue was doing came directly from that background,” Johnston says.


“I loved going to art openings and just saw it all as one big ‘mush’ together,” Tompkins adds. “There was nothing particular in my head at all. I just attempted to connect personalized references and hoped that they may connect with others.”


In retrospect, Tompkins admits she was “very naive,” however that’s what helped Life Without Buildings jump out inside the hyper-masculine rock scene of the early aughts any time LWB supported The Strokes at their first-ever headlining London gig, drummer Will Bradley memorably called it “a booking accident.”). No offense to that nostalgic era of vintage-inspired dude rock, nevertheless none of these bands were ever man enough to evoke the same effervescent energy of “Let’s Get Out,” in which Tompkins sobs “look around!” With the delicate wonder of a newborn baby seeing the world for the opening time. On the softer “Envoys,” she repeats the word “salt” so several times that it actually transforms into “assault,” twisted syllables riding an ecstatic wave of poetic tradition that stretches from Jenny Holzer to Patti Smith. The track builds to a climax that never comes; a major piece of the band’s effectiveness was knowing any time not to do something.

@abbyroberts how has @charlottelooks never done my makeup before😳

♬ The Leanover by Life Without Buildings - andrew :•)

This natural vibe is as fresh today as it was back then. Although in 2001, Any Other City faced its share of unfair criticism — rooted as much in ignorance as it was in sexism. One infamous review from NME claimed that only “mad people and immediate family” could tolerate Tompkins’s singing.


“I was so disappointed by how lazy a lot of the reviews were,” Johnston remembers. “It was like, ‘bingo!’ Are they going to say Björk or Clare Grogan? Because of course, those are the only even slightly unusual female vocalists they’ve ever bothered to listen to.”


As a generation well-practiced in shattering orthodox norms, it makes sense that Gen Z would embrace Life Without Buildings wholeheartedly, even if some male critics never could. Any Other City will, most likely, remain the band’s one and only release — “We’re all in different places doing different things, some in art, some not,” Tompkins reveals — although that just makes it that more precious for those with whom it resonates so deeply. For young females, especially, there’s a lot to glean from Sue Tompkins’s words. “You’re so pretty although you’re going to slip away like that… feeling that way about tough people,” she states in the album’s melancholy finale. It’s a critical reminder that someone else’s impression of you means so far less than the expression you create for yourself.