A LOUD WOMEN spotlight interview with Liverpool's premiere psychedelic-disco-electro-post-punk-folk-pop trio Stealing Sheep, ahead of their frankly unmissable live session on the LOUD WOMEN Radio show on Resonance FM on Tuesday 28 October.
Who is answering these questions?
Becky
How did you choose your band name?
Stealing Sheep – inspired by death metal band Enslaved who stole a sheep from a politician in a political stunt to campaign for artist rights
Who’s in the band, and what do you all play/do?
Becky – vocals, synths, loops, label, art direction, video edits, photography…Emily – vocals, synths, production, website tech, graphics, edits…Lucy, vocals, synths, drums, md, orchestral arrangements, collage, graphics and tour driving.
Describe your sound in three words.
Art Pop Experience
Tell us about your latest release.
GLO – Girl Life Online – was born in the studio at Nan’s House, but it lives everywhere girls are reclaiming their power. It’s more than an album – it’s a spiritual awakening set to a sticky beat. We took the chaos of the digital age and flipped it into a love letter to girlhood, one that’s messy, defiant, ecstatic, and real. A soundtrack for the girl gaze, for the scroll-fatigued souls, for those who want to feel something in real life again. GLO breathes in the madness of being online and spits out pure IRL joy – sweat, sisterhood, rhythm, rage, release. We’re rewriting what girlhood looks like – not something soft and small, but something loud, spiritual, glitchy, and unstoppable.
What’s your local scene like?
We just played the opening night of Quarry 2.0 and honestly, it’s the most excited we’ve been about a venue in years. It’s independent, it’s unpolished, and it’s rooted in the real Liverpool – the one that champions both the legacy and the future of the scene. What makes Quarry special is that it feels like a much needed home to the outsider art scene – and it chimes strong with the DIY spirit that’s always kept Liverpool vibrant. There’s drag, there’s cabaret, there’s space for experimentation and joy. We feel most at home in spaces like this – where music and creativity all crash together. There’s a freedom in that. Quarry 2.0 feels like a lighthouse for a new era of Liverpool nightlife – inclusive, fearless, and built by the people who actually experience it.
If you could rip up the rulebook of the music industry, what’s the first thing you’d rewrite?
First thing we’d do is tear down the gatekeeping. Too much of the music industry is still controlled by the same narrow perspectives – people deciding what’s ‘marketable’ instead of what’s meaningful. If we’re rewriting the rulebook, it has to start with equality: equal access, equal funding, equal respect – regardless of background, gender identity, class, or who you know. Art shouldn’t be governed by algorithms or what’s trending. It should be about truth, community, and connection – not constant validation and industry targets. We need state-funded art that lets artists exist without having to go viral to survive. Real creativity often happens in the margins, not the charts. We want a world where artists can take risks, be weird, be honest – and still pay rent. That’s the future we’re writing towards.
What’s the wildest/strangest thing that’s ever happened at one of your gigs?
It’s hard to pick just one – our gigs do tend to attract chaos in the best way. Once, at Secret Garden Party, we played an entire set to a fully naked audience. Like, everyone was in the nude, dancing joyfully under the sun – and honestly, it was kind of beautiful. Liberating and surreal in equal measure. Then there was Birmingham’s Hare and Hounds, where someone actually stole our inflatable sheep mid-show. We had to make an announcement like, ‘Please return the sheep — no questions asked.’ It was a moment. But the wildest what-is-life moment? At the Eurovision finale, Paul McCartney – actual Beatle, no big deal – introduced our song live on screen via Zoom. It was totally surreal. We went from DIY drag gigs to Sir Paul setting up our track in front of millions. That’s one for the grandkids.
What’s the story behind a song of yours that fans really connect with?
One of our songs, Shut Eye, completely took on a life of its own — especially online. It somehow became the soundtrack for a whole subculture we hadn’t expected: the cosplay and therian community. People started making videos where they fully embody their therian identities — usually as dogs or cats — and express that through movement, dress-up, and this deep, almost spiritual connection to an animal self.” It’s not just a costume — it’s about being, about identity. And for some reason, Shut Eye really resonated with that. Maybe it’s the mix of dreamy and instinctual, the pulse of the track with the idea of stepping into a different kind of consciousness. Now there are whole compilations of people in forests, bedrooms, playgrounds — all moving, howling, growling, totally alive to this song. It’s wild, but also incredibly touching. We love it. It reminds us that once you release a song, it doesn’t belong to you anymore. It finds its people. And sometimes those people are wolves on TikTok.
Have you ever written a song that came from an unlikely place?
Emily once wrote a song called Shark Song — and yes, it’s literally about her irrational fear of sharks. We always joked it was her attempt to process deep aquatic trauma through synth-pop. It came way before that viral ‘Baby Shark’ track (that’s the one, right?), but unfortunately the world wasn’t quite ready for two shark anthems. It didn’t exactly blow up, but it had a cult following of people who really felt the terror of being eaten alive. We still think it deserves a comeback. Maybe one day we’ll do a full fear-themed EP.
What’s the biggest hurdle you’ve faced and how did you overcome it?
In 2020, everything collapsed at once. We were dropped by our label, Heavenly, right as the pandemic hit. Our first US tour was cancelled mid-flight, and we found ourselves stranded in Brooklyn — broke, disoriented, and I’d just found out I was pregnant. The record deal was gone, our plans were gone, and the world was in lockdown. It felt like a complete erasure of the momentum we’d spent years building. It took us five years to find our way back — emotionally, financially, creatively. We started our own label, built everything from scratch, and made an album together, learning how to release it on our own terms. We stopped touring for a while, which was painful, but necessary. Coming back now feels like starting again, but the landscape is completely different — everything’s online, and if you’re not viral on TikTok, it can feel like you don’t even exist. But we’re still here. We’ve realised we can’t fight the algorithm, but we can keep creating — as resistance, as therapy, as commentary, as the only thing we know how to do. And most importantly, it keeps us connected and keeps us together.
What’s the proudest moment you’ve had so far as a band?
There’ve been a lot of highlights over the years, but honestly, the proudest moment has to be releasing our album ourselves. It was something we never thought we could do — it felt impossible at times. But we did it, piece by piece, together. After everything — losing our label, starting from scratch, teaching ourselves how to release music — just holding that finished record in our hands was overwhelming. It’s not just an album, it’s proof that we can survive, create, and keep moving forward on our own terms. We’re still learning, still proving to ourselves that the impossible can be possible.
What’s the strangest gig you’ve ever played?
The strangest — and honestly one of our favourite — gigs was at a festival in Germany called Fusion. We drove for what felt like nine hours, which definitely added to the surreal vibe when we finally arrived. Fusion feels like a secret world built on an old airbase. We got driven in a buggy to this covered circus tent that was packed to the brim with people. The stage was unlike anything we’d seen — small but tall in the middle, all wooden and broken up into different levels. It was a bit ad hoc but had this raw, magical energy with follow spots cutting through the smoke. The crowd was literally at our feet, and we launched into a set we barely even knew how to play. Somehow it all felt organic and electric — like being in another universe. Then the heavens opened, and everyone got completely soaked, but the energy just kept going. It’s a memory we’ll never forget.
What’s a dream gig or collaboration you must make happen before you die?
David Byrne is an immediate dream — working with him would be fun. His creativity, his way of blending art and music, it’s inspiring on a whole other level. Plus, I actually have a paper puppet of him that’s also a magnet, made by the same artist who did the Stealing Sheep magnets — so they all hang out on my fridge doing little dance routines. I’d say Björk too, but honestly, I don’t know if I could get over being so starstruck enough to create anything! That would probably blow my mind completely. Still, it’s a dream worth having.
Dream lineup: you + three other acts (alive, dead, or imaginary). Who’s on the bill?
Sassy 009, Ultra Flex, Stealing Sheep, Smerz, David Byrne, Little Simz, Bjork, CSS, Meduulla
What’s next for you?
We’re going to Shakespeare Playhouse North to make a new live show and then touring feb 2026 and doing all the festivals next year, so excited!