CAINE HEMMINGWAY - BELIEVE IN NOTHING

Intro: When a band barges into my orbit and demands my full attention they are typically a few years deep in their craft, leaving me wondering about what I missed: how they formed, what they sounded like on day one, what the magic sauce was, etc. It’s the origin stories that I’m interested in you see. By the time a band is a handful of albums deep into their careers, I’ve usually nodded off.

Believe in Nothing are still a new-ish band. Members are a bit scattered geograhically but they’re ‘Eastbourne based’, with everything machinated in the humble looking Bad Habit Studio three miles from my house, down an unsuspecting alley. I’ve had somewhat of a ringside seat to their manifestation and it’s been an extraordinary thing to witness. I’d imagine it’s similar to what it would have felt like to have seen Iron Monkey’s very first gigs in the mid-90s. That initial silhouette of something spiteful and murderous emerging, the weaponising of a previously empty space, and a recognition that something so enormous and formidable can only pace up and down in its own back yard for so long before inevitably breaking free.

This is the second time I’ve interviewed Caine, Believe in Nothing’s vocalist and wielder of noise gadgetry. The first appeared in the inaugural issue of the Eastbourne fanzine HOOKED LUNG back in 2024. There’s quite a bit to catch up on.

Caine: Hello legend Sean, first up, thanks so much for taking the time to interview me (Caine) about Believe in Nothing stuff. Your support from the very start has been unwavering, and it’s very appreciated. All the things you have been doing on the Mercy Signal substack, Hooked Ling zines and general commitment to the heavy music scene is fucking amazing.

Sean: Praise accepted! Thank you! On paper Believe in Nothing is only just turning two years old, but there’s a whole secret year before that spent “finding” the right sound isn’t there? Where does the clock start on the band, what was ‘day one’? And was there always an agenda to ‘just fucking send it’ right out of the gate, or has the traction, mileage and recognition the band has received in such a small amount of time been unexpected?

Caine: We are for sure a young band, and I constantly have to remind myself of that. I feel really lucky that there’s been a trajectory in any capacity, but I also know it’s not all luck. We have worked real fucking hard for everything as a band, and I have personally taken my fist and driven it into the scruff of the neck of the band and dragged it as far and hard as I possibly can. It’s genuinely a 7 day a week thing, an obsession and a commitment as big as, or bigger than a full time job.

The timeline is Late July/August 2023 myself and Jasper had a very impromptu jam, myself on drums and him on bass. We made and recorded a demo of Fist Full of Worms in an afternoon. Here’s the first demo with vocals and noise.

Fist Full Of Worms 2023 demo

After that for the remainder of 2023, it was a case of building a lineup and just seeing how a band would slot into everyone’s schedules. I got really unwell in December 23, just as we were getting our heads into it, and ended up with pneumonia, so that held things back and freaked me out. I wasn’t sure if I could do vocals anymore, it fucking floored me.

2024 rolled around and we had a lineup shuffle, moving Jasper on drums from bass. Within a few months we did a really impromptu live jam at a gig I was putting on because a band pulled out.

Our first proper gig was May 2024, supporting Black Shape and Black Groove. It was a fundraiser show of our friend Iain Passmore who was dying of MEN type 1. He sadly died the day before the show.

So, the fire that burnt inside me to push this band as hard as I could was a combination of things. Getting ill enough to have the fear of never doing vocals or potentially doing shows again made me appreciate it that much more. The death of our friend Iain the day before the first gig added a really human and emotional element to what drives me in the band. And overall, I operate best when I’m fucking angry, and fuck me was I angry. I had a point to prove, I wanted to spite every fucking cunt that ever doubted me, everyone who made my life difficult, all the shitty comments and experiences in previous bands, I wanted to funnel it all into the Believe in Nothing and create something out the fire. And that’s what gave me that get shit done attitude from very very early on. Fear, mortality, spite and anger. Not love or any fluffy stuff, it came from a really dark place, at a really dark time, with urgency and intensity. It is not pretty or conventional, but nor am I. With the art I create, and how that happens, I make little to no apology for that. I’m fucking intense, driven and have a very clear vision.

Sean: There’s an expansive and worldbuilding nature to Believe in Nothing’s music, but with occasional reminders for anyone fantasizing about oxygen free hellscapes on other planets that they should probably be looking closer to home. Do all Believe in Nothing songs exist in the same universe?

Caine: The songs are all a collage of human mistakes, failure, pain and consequences. It’s the easiest way I can articulate it.

All the songs do sit in the same universe, yes. They’re loosely pulled together in the novella I wrote called The Wisp, which follows a narrating ethereal form that floats through specific moments in time. Moments of failure, human pain and consequence. Writing that longer form piece helped me understand how far I could spread the roots of thought and idea, and in turn was the bedrock to the lyrics throughout the whole album.

When we first started writing, I had pledged to myself that I wouldn’t be delving into any personal trauma of my own. I was exhausted from doing that and wanted to try to focus on a more fictional way of writing lyrics. It’s been really liberating to spread my writing into places that don’t literally exist, to create them and destroy them. Everything is all hinged on what is absolutely possible, what is happening right now, and what will happen to us as a human race in the future.

Sean: I want to mention an awkward gig in a town the other side of Brighton last winter. The promoter clearly didn’t give a shit and despite 6 months to promote it, the gig felt like something thrown together at a day’s notice. You guys played to a select few die hards that chose to stick it out and I remember thinking “maybe B.i.N should go a bit easier on people tonight”. You did NOT. It was still the full lurching, confrontational Believe in Nothing experience. How flexible are you to adjusting the set on the fly? Is it important that every crowd gets the same level of intensity, discomfort and alienation irrespective of town/venue/turnout?

Caine: Yeah, that was a very frustrating experience. We had communicated with every promoter on that tour to announce at exactly the same time, to sync up all neat with the album being announced and a single being released. Everyone managed to do that, apart from that show. It took, off the top of my head, 2 months for them to announce the show. So by the time the actual gig came around, we weren’t surprised about anything. It seemed like a difficult push and pull between two people acting as the promoters, one who was trying and one that wasn’t. I felt sorry for the one that was trying and he did seem to be genuinely a bit embarrassed.

Every show deserves to be played at full intensity, no matter who is in the room. To be honest, even in rehearsals there’s a base level of intensity that people might presume is saved for the stage. To deliver the kind of music we are making, authenticity is the number 1 driver, and that doesn’t have much of a filter.

The one exception to this was our last Eastbourne show, which was more like a show amongst friends and family. After we had delivered some new material we just played through some of our bouncier tracks without interludes or some of the more performance art elements. Like a ‘normal’ band. It was nice and wholesome in a way, but solely reserved for that exact moment. If anything, it made me realise how important all the intense interludes and space is.

Sean: Alienation seems a key theme in the band’s ethos. If people vibe with the live experience, that’s cool, if they can’t hack it or need to leave the room, also cool, but you want to leave minimal room for indifference. Can you elaborate on this please?

Caine: Absolutely. We are not a band for everyone, and that’s the point. If you write music/create art to please everyone, it’s a diluted idea, and something I wouldn’t want to waste my time with in all honesty. I’m not that kind of person. Fuck everyone, write for yourself, perform how you want to perform. If people like that, good, if not, good. Both valid responses.

I think the album release show we did in Eastbourne (November 2025) was a really good example of this venn diagram of love/hate and very slim indifference. The crowd members who maybe were indifferent very quickly reckoned with and accepted that they do in fact, not like Believe in Nothing. And that is ok and very valid, and actually welcome as that indifference makes people not respect or engage with the performance we are trying to deliver.

The music, the way we perform, the way I specifically perform, it can be difficult for people, rub people up the wrong way, ask people questions that they don’t want to answer, it’s confrontational and not something you are going to see all the time down Green Door Store or whatever, we’re a fucking weird band, we do weird shit and it’s uncomfortable, we know that. And it’s kind of the point. It’s ok to not like us as a band, it’s not going to hurt anyone’s feelings. Art is subjective, we are making a very subjective style of art. In all honesty, I question if I would stay for the entirety of one of our shows sometimes. At the same time, if you’re with us, you’re engaged and willing to get dragged into what we are trying to build in front of your eyes, you get to look at the monsters in the shadows and try to fight them with us. There’s a true catharsis in that level of confrontation and exploration of pain and emotion in live music. But that isn’t for everyone. And if you don’t like it, leave. Don’t fuck it up for everyone else who does.

Sean: Believe in Nothing’s members have other shit going on musically, and are involved in their local music communities. It means that you’re typically all approachable people often giving advice and support to others. But the last thing some kid with questions about where to get stickers made (or whatever) wants to do is approach you 5 minutes before a Believe in Nothing set looking for a friendly chat. As someone who knows each of you it seems like Believe in Nothing acts as a temporary escape from having to constantly be the ‘nice guys’ all the time. How do you set that boundry that allows you to get your head into the right place that allows you to do what you do onstage and what rituals are involved in that?

Caine: What a fantastic question. I can only really speak for myself on this one. I’m always absolutely happy to chat to people at shows. I love that people want to talk and I’m honored to be able to offer advice and support to anyone that wants it. It’s a huge part of the ethic of the band. It might seem a bit Jekyll and Hyde given our live show, but community is integral to the band and my personal approach to music/the scene in general. I constantly find it such a privilege to be part of it.

Finding space before and after a show is something I’ve had to learn how to find for myself, because when I am in that headspace to deliver a Believe in Nothing performance, the person looking for that interaction might not like or expect the response I give.

What I personally have learnt works for me is taking myself out the way of people about an hour before we play. Out the venue ideally. I use this time to focus on what messages and questions I want to focus on during the interludes of the set, and write them in a book I carry with me when we gig.

Here’s a picture of a used page with some blood and probably spit:

I do some breathing exercises and stare at the page, and that helps me get in the zone. I find myself being calm and focused before a show.

After a gig, something that is baked into the set is me walking out halfway through the last song. I find this is really helpful to me, and gives me that space before people come to talk to me, before I’m ready and unwound. The performance is so raw and unpredictable, I’m not in any shape to have a normal conversation with people after. I need a minute. I can’t just switch it off immediately, so I remove myself from the situation, usually take a walk 5 minutes away from the venue and come back when I’m ready. The shows are intense, it’s no joke, it’s real and authentic. I leave, and I feel dangerous. I need that time to breathe and regain my composure. It’s unlike any kind of performance I’ve done.

Sean: Elsewhere on the blog I have a Troy The Band interview. I am so enamoured with them and you were my introduction to them. How did you first meet those guys, and what was the series of events that led from just knowing a fellow heavy band to becoming a crucial player on their recent sonic overhaul and frankly astonishing new output?

Caine: They’re incredible musicians and people, it’s a fucking honour to know them.

So, we first met on the first Believe in Nothing tour in January/February 2025 with Kulk. Myself and Sean (bass) kept in touch the most and grew a friendship. He lets me sleep at his place in London when we have a show there and I have to travel back to Edinburgh the next day. I love that man, and all his support has been integral to the band and myself.

Sean and myself were talking through some difficult decisions facing his band. He had already asked if I could do full vocals and lyrics for one of their songs (The Moment), but was faced with the rest of the album without a singer after their previous vocalist was no longer part of the project. We talked about the possibility of inviting more collaborators, and I offered to help in any way I could. And it grew from there really, ending in Jake Packham from Black Groove, David Burdis from Black Shape coming to Edinburgh to record with my great friend and all round musical collaborator in Edinburgh, Ryan Denham.

I wrote The Moment and Choke the day I had to record, so it was really from the gut and immediate stuff, which is a way I love to work. Jake and David came and we all worked together, adding layers and parts, including some extra vocals from Ryan. Jake did a full track on his own too, which was such a privilege to see him record.

For me, that project was the outcome of friendship in the heavy music community. Such a privilege to be a part of. I’ll always be thankful.

Sean: You left Eastbourne and moved to Edinburgh at the end of 2024. Tell us about the city in terms of its heavy music activity, current bands, and other related goings on. Also what were the first few weeks like once you got there, was it alienating, or did you immediately feel comfortable and at home?

Caine: Edinburgh is amazing. It’s the best decision I’ve ever made to move there. The landscape of the heavy music scene is different to down south and it’s been really interesting to get acclimated to that. There’s a broader focus on punk, especially in grassroots venues. The city has faced key venue closures, including Legends which was the city’s equivalent of Green Door Store, and that has had a real impact on the scene and its ability to host touring bands. I feel lucky to have played there and to have hosted Black Groove there as one of the last shows at the venue. But you can feel the void, especially after Legends closed its doors. I feel the scene is still a bit in mourning over that.

I’ve become friends with so many musicians and creatives in the city, meeting Ryan Denham at the first gig I went to and becoming really close helped me feel really welcomed straight away. Grey from Endless Swarm has been amazing too, having me at his house boat to just socialize like a normal human and helping introduce me to my absolute fucking hero Dylan Walker (Full of Hell). The city has incredible bands with people I can now call friends, bands like Endless Swarm, Dvne, Party Cannon, AVL, Obsidian Sand, Noisepack, The Chunks, Canaan Balsam and Scarred Lip. It’s also been great starting to put gigs on up here under the Tinnitus Gigs umbrella, and the promoters up here have been so helpful in spreading the word and co promoting gigs with me. Shout out to Stu from Fuzz Bat, Aimee from Good Vibes and Nick from Braw Gigs for being so amazing at keeping the relentlessly scene alive and becoming friends. Their support has been amazing.