Guitarist and songwriter of Auraboros Rayne Williams speaks on the band’s upcoming debut LP, stumbling into Shortdaughter, and her own solo work with bliss, delusion.
With every review of Auraboros’ music that is written here, there is always an intent to make it clear just how long the members of this band have been in collaboration; the context of the present is best understood with knowledge of the past. Even so, there was something deeply impressive about the sheer persistence of guitarist Rayne Williams’ story.
“I still love my home, but unless you’re an old white person, there is nothing for you,” she says, speaking on her homeland of the Isle of Man. The small Crown Dependency in the midst of the British Isles is hardly known for its heavy music, yet that didn’t stop a younger Williams from attempting to put the isle on the musical map. Her first project (“don’t go looking it up!” she says with both a firmness and a laugh) was established all the way back in 2010, and would spawn three EPs across eight years. 2018 would see the band relocate to Manchester, but fate deigned that the band would not survive the move.
From those ashes, several projects emerged. Guitarist Leo Craig would go on to form Honest Eyes, which dissolved in 2020, and then the great nothing, whom have recently been recording at Craig’s own studio. Bassist Cameron Davies would go on to form Sanssouci, who were still rolling about as of last year. Williams and drummer Aaron West would find themselves coming together to form a metalcore project, and would find themselves teaming up Infirm Of Purpose guitarist Matt Ashley and fellow Manx vocalist Aisling PJ Killey; Auraboros was officially born.
“From the start we had plans for a pair of EPs,” she says. “We would have one called ‘Absent’, and one called ‘Present’.” A lot of the material the band worked with in their early years was based upon ideas that had never quite reached fruition with Williams’ original project; their 2020 debut single ‘Snake’ and its 2021 follow-up ‘Parasitic’ were both examples of this. Even so, the ambition and weight of modern Auraboros would quickly become clear.
2024 saw the past five years of work finally be rewarded with the release of the band’s debut EP, ‘Absent’; plans for a duology of EPs had become scrapped as the band expanded the scope of the project, and the visual elements that had already permeated Auraboros’ identity became a crucial focal point. “Every song was intended to have an accompanying photoshoot and video,” Williams admits, “but that was hard for a band of our size. […] Aaron was handling all of the editing, and quickly became burnt out.”
Regardless, what was achieved for the band’s ‘Absent’ EP and era was immensely impressive. The five track EP dealt with mental health struggles, existence as a transgender woman, and the ways we reconcile with all of the people we did not become with vicious openness, encircled by a concrete visual approach; white clothing splattered with Pollock-esque paint patterns, liminal landscapes, and the death of the band’s TV-headed mascot. All of this culminated in a headline performance at Manchester’s legendary Star & Garter.
Williams is amusingly candid when questioned about how last year’s single, ‘Therapy’, came about. With numerous performances on the horizon, and none of Williams’ pre-conceived ideas coming to fruition, the band elected to quickly throw themselves into producing something entirely new. “No bullshit,” she explains, “we just needed a song in that tuning. It is written in drop A#, when our standard tuning is drop F#. There was no point in bringing a second guitar for just ‘Silverdale Blues’, and we aren’t NOT going to perform ‘Silverdale Blues’.”She goes on to explain attempts were made by herself and Killey to write something positive in the midst of personal crises for them both, but the shared sentiment of how visceral a therapy session can truly be ended up becoming their songwriting muse.
With the past firmly raked over, it was time to push Williams for insight into the band’s upcoming full-length record, ‘Dysorder’. Should the music not pan out, a career in the secret services surely awaits Williams; she is controlled and cautious about what secrets from the studio she is able to reveal. After a moment of pause, she divulges a little, explaining the band’s recent pattern of releasing fully-fledged songs with spoken-word accompaniments; “Those spoken-word segments, we call them ‘Passages’. We plan on continuing to release songs like this going forwards, building up towards ‘Dysorder’.”
She continues with a quiet sense of pride; “We’re a band that likes to release music every year, and the material we’re making is some of our best yet. We weren’t just going to sit on it.” Williams acknowledges that this also permits the band to stand a chance of appeasing algorithmic gods, who seek a musical sacrifice every six to eight weeks for any chance of a blessing. She admits that things are far from easy for a band of Auraboros’ size to survive in the current musical market; “‘Musician’ is just a fancy word for ‘homeless’ at this point,” she quips.
Community has always been a key feature of Auraboros’ work, whether it’s the continued loud advocation for queer and trans rights within an increasingly regressive society, or establishing an informal network of artists that work together within Manchester and beyond. As previously mentioned, production of the of the material for ‘Dysorder’ is being handled by longtime friend Leo Craig, whilst mastering is being handled by Grant Berry. The band’s most recent single featured a guest verse from Emma Louise Shippen of DACARA, whilst Williams alludes to further features from close friends of the band, although remains tight-lipped on identities.
Williams is, at the very least, willing to co-operate with the investigation when questioned about themes of the record. Whilst ‘The Pendulum’ dealt with the “rot of late stage capitalism”, some of the unreleased material deals with far more personal matters; Williams is refreshingly candid about her longtime fight with mental illness, and her current experiences with a potential bipolar disorder diagnosis. Promises are made for tracks influenced as much by synthwave as they are metalcore; she sums up the record as the sound of “disorder, community, and getting weird with it.”. The headline writes itself.
It is also admittedly refreshing to hear Williams speak with genuine love for metalcore; it’s a term that has, in many circles, become frustratingly synonymous with uninspired, hyper-polished alternative rock mixed with mindless chugging. “[The metalcore scene] is in a relatively healthy place,” she shrugs, although she admits that queer and female representation is still found to be distinctly lacking; promoters appear ignorant how to place Auraboros, a band featuring two openly queer women that produces thunderously aggressive metal, on metal lineups. “[Promoters] need to just do it,” she says with a laugh, “just do it!”.
There is an undeniable truth to this; as important as queer and female exclusive line ups are within metalcore, the scene still seems wholly reluctant to offer such bands the same degree of exposure and opportunity as they are when it comes to four white dudes with guitars. Williams does acknowledge that things are fortunately far more progressive within the realm of hardcore, with innumerable queer musicians consistently guiding the hardcore scene to new highs. Metalcore has far further to go, but Auraboros aren’t about to change their sound just in favour of better opportunities; queer art deserves representation without dilution.
Of course, with an album that includes heavy conceptual visual elements in progress, including a new attempt to fulfil ambitions for a music video for every release, anybody would forgive Williams for wanting to keep the rest of her life fairly quiet. That, however, is far from the case, having not only joined Mancunian punk outfit Shortdaughter, but also revisiting her own solo project entitled Bliss Delusion. It is clear that for Williams performing music is a necessity, although with a laugh she assures me that this is even more the case for band mate Killey.
Shortdaughter had been a work in progress for friend of the band and frontman of “Manc Chaospop” outfit Lure In, Cameron Wilson. Teaming up with disability activist Red Longson, the duo put out a three-track demo earlier this year, before Wilson and Longson sought to expand the band for live performances. “It was originally just a “learn the songs and turn up at [Wilson’s] house” kind of deal,” Williams says with a wry smile. “It was very non-committal. But we’ve ended up working on two new songs, ‘Rat Race’ and ‘Tyrant’ that we’ve just released.”
The punk outfit would go on to perform their inaugural debut performance at Liverpool’s No Play Fest, opening the whole festival. This was only the day after Auraboros had played their debut Liverpool performance for Goth Frog and LOUD WOMEN’s charity fundraiser event for Protect Scouse Dolls. This had been the first performance I had witnessed of the band since the amicable departure of Matt Ashley, having found increasing success with Infirm Of Purpose. Despite being a three-piece, the chemistry was stronger than ever, Killey’s explosive and unpredictable stage presence working brilliantly with the acerbic snark of Williams, all set atop of the foundation of West’s steadfast presence. Trials to fill in Ashley’s position had taken place, but Williams stated that the jigsaw of Auraboros is more complete than ever, even after losing a piece; “This is the chemistry we need going forward, there’s no room for people who don’t get it.”
As for bliss, delusion, this had started as a simple poetic tool of catharsis for Williams in 2024, allowing her to explore both her internal world and her musical skills without being hemmed in by the creative processes of other projects. “There was a whole album I wrote for it,” she admits, “but it was shit, so I threw the whole thing away!”
Recently Williams compiled previous releases from this project with several new tracks in the form of her ‘low points’ EP. It’s rough, abrasive, and challenging, but all intentionally so; this is the sound of manic delirium dancing with oppressive depression, pulling ideas from thrash, drone, noise, and experimental metal. “When I get the time, I’d like to return to bliss, delusion with a full band. Rewrite that album and actually make something of it.”
It’s hard not to see a consistent theme of finding meaning in suffering that permeates Williams’ work; she states she had never truly considered that, but also admits that there may be a degree of truth to it. In her battles with severe mental health conditions, finding a place in a world increasingly less accepting of queer and trans people (especially trans women), and navigating the never ending collapse of the capitalist empire, Williams persists, and even more impressively, performs. It is a rejection of the silence the world seems to seek from her, and that strength is visible in all projects she touches, even when the song in question is in relation to a sleep paralysis demon duck.
Seeking to end the interview on a light note, I ask of Williams what her dream venue would be. The response was unexpected in its humbleness and realism; not Co-Op Live, or Wembley Arena, or even a cult favourite such as Camden Underworld. “Manchester Academy 2. When we play there, I know we’ll have made it. I’ve seen so many important shows there. Get DACARA, Lure In, the great nothing on the line up… Auraboros and friends.”
It is easy to imagine such an event taking place (although Williams would have to kick the great nothing into gear after their lengthy silence). Auraboros is the product of three individuals that do not simply want to play music, but evidently need to play music, crossing the sea to keep their dreams alive. It feels inevitable that something will come of the striving and struggle of Williams; ‘Dysorder’ first, world domination via Manchester Academy 2 next.
Featured photo credit belongs to @shotbyalexanderheff.
Follow Rayne Williams’ projects at the links below:
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