Katherine Priddy – These Frightening Machines: songs that whisper to the heart
Phil Aston & Sue Aston in conversation
There are some artists who don’t need to raise their voice to be heard. Katherine Priddy is one of them. Her songs arrive quietly, almost like a confidence shared late at night — and then they stay with you.
In this episode of the Now Spinning Magazine Podcast, Sue and I sat down with Katherine to talk about her third album, These Frightening Machines — a record that feels like a meditation on time: how it moves, how it changes us, and how it often leaves us with questions rather than neat answers.
What emerged was a thoughtful, warm conversation about identity, womanhood, memory, fragility, resilience, and that strange sensation of watching your own life unfold in real time. Katherine speaks with real honesty about creativity, pressure, and learning to trust her instincts — and the album itself feels like the sound of an artist stepping into a new decade with a clearer sense of self… while still embracing the fact that none of us ever really “finish” becoming.
A Brummy connection (and straight into the heart of the album)
We began with an easy moment of shared roots — yes, Katherine is a fellow Brummie — before moving into the big question: what shifted internally between The Pendulum Swing and These Frightening Machines?
Katherine described feeling the weight of the “difficult second album” expectations, and how the third record felt almost like a fresh start — a chance to quieten the voices of doubt and focus on writing songs she felt proud of, then building the sound world around them in a way that served the songs first, not the “public sphere”.
It’s a revealing insight, because you can hear that freedom in the finished album: it’s varied, bold in its own quiet way, and emotionally direct without ever becoming overwrought.
“Matches” – reclaiming voices, lighting a fire
We talked in depth about the opening single “Matches”, and the story behind it is as powerful as the song itself. Katherine explained how a simple phrase — “it was women, not witches” — lodged in her mind after seeing it as a tattoo, and led her down a rabbit hole of reading around the Scottish witch trials.
What she wanted to avoid was a song that felt purely mournful. Instead, Matches becomes a kind of reclamation: an empowering gathering of voices, with production that feels like momentum — “an army approaching”, as she described it.
One of the most brilliant details in the conversation was how they created that marching, armoured feel in the percussion: by dropping a percussion box onto the floor and running the sound through distortion until it took on a metal-like weight. That’s the kind of studio alchemy that makes you listen differently the next time the track comes around.
“Frightening Machines” – when the body becomes a burden
The title track “Frightening Machines” is one of the emotional cores of the record, and Katherine spoke candidly about the song’s inspiration: health issues, time in the medical system, and the unsettling moment when you begin talking about your body as if it isn’t really “you”.
She described the dehumanising nature of being poked and prodded — how it can make you feel more like a malfunctioning machine than a person — and how writing the song was a way to put language to a feeling she struggled to explain to others.
Even the video reflects that: a heavy cloak and a scrap-metal harness dragged across a beach in Poole, filmed during a storm, hands going numb in the cold. Suffering for the art, but with a purpose — to physically embody that sense of weight and burden.
And importantly, Katherine didn’t want the song to end in darkness. The track carries hope — the reminder that healing takes time, and that you can come through.
“Hurricane” – groove, desire, and the joy of risk
Then came “Hurricane”, a song with a different energy: sultry, rhythmic, and (in Katherine’s words) possibly the only track in her repertoire that might actually make people dance.
The backstory is brilliant: producer Rob Ellis messaged Katherine two weeks before the studio and challenged her — “I think you’ve got a groovy song in you that you haven’t written yet.” She took the prompt seriously, listening to Dusty Springfield and leaning into something “sexy” and “sultry”. The trumpet on the track only deepens that late-night, smoky feel.
It’s a reminder that growth isn’t always louder — sometimes it’s simply allowing yourself to step into a new emotional colour.
“Madeleine” – solidarity, not competition
One of the most moving parts of the chat was Katherine’s explanation of “Madeleine” — a love song, really, written to other women in the music industry. Not aimed at one person, but shaped by years of conversations where women have felt pitted against each other, fighting for limited spaces.
She spoke about how, when she was younger, she was often the only woman on a bill — introduced as “the female musician” as if that were the genre — and how that environment can breed unnecessary competition.
Sue shared a wonderful story about a recent show in Dublin featuring twelve women on stage including Peggy Seeger, who said how rare and valuable that kind of collective performance would have been when she was younger. Katherine’s point landed beautifully: there is room for all of us, and we’re stronger when we play together.
“Sirius”, “Atlas” and songs written for friends
Another theme that surfaced repeatedly is Katherine’s deep interest in writing about people — friends, circles, stories observed quietly. “Sirius” is one of the album’s most uplifting moments, written as a message to a friend going through a hard time: even if you feel unseen, you don’t know who might be looking up to you, or how much light you’re giving someone else.
“Atlas” continues that thread — the sense of someone carrying too much for too long. And Katherine said something telling: even when you write about other people, you inevitably place a little of yourself in the song too. “Asking for a friend,” as she joked — but you could feel the truth beneath it.
“A Matter of Time” – the song that stops you scrolling
For me, “A Matter of Time” became the standout track. In the interview I said it’s one of those rare songs that genuinely makes you stop whatever you’re doing — it pulls you out of the noise, out of the scrolling, and makes you sit and listen.
Katherine spoke about the pressure of moving from your twenties into your thirties — friends settling down, getting married, having children — and wondering whether you’re on the “right” timeline. The song holds melancholy and reassurance at the same time: everyone’s timeline is different, and sometimes all you can do is let the thought drift across you like a cloud and pass.
Sue described the bittersweet nature of nostalgia perfectly: somewhere between good and bad — a sweetness you need, but not too much of it.
“Table Four” – a night of honesty, bottled in a song
“Table Four” came from a real moment: a pub conversation in Pembrokeshire with two musicians Katherine had just met. There’s something about musicians, she said — you cut through the small talk quickly and end up talking about the important stuff.
They spent the night sharing secrets about touring: loving it and missing home, freedom and loneliness, connection and distance. They sat at table four, passing around a small stone marked “Table 4” — and one of the guys later found it in his coat pocket. A tiny object, a tiny detail… but it became a symbol of shared experience, carried forward.
That’s what Katherine does so well: she turns small human moments into something quietly universal.
“Could This Be Enough?” – ending on a question mark
The album closes with “Could This Be Enough?”, and Katherine explained why it had to end that way: no resolution, no “answer” — a question mark.
She recalled being taught at university that you should end an essay with a question because you never truly have all the answers; you should provoke the next question. That philosophy sits at the heart of the record.
She also loved the arc: Matches opens with a bang, but the album ends like a tiny spark — almost a whispered vocal — as if the record slowly reduces to its most human element.
And when we asked the final question — if someone listens late at night and feels less alone afterwards, is that enough? — Katherine said yes. That would be “an absolute win.”
Tour dates, formats, and how to support
These Frightening Machines is out now via Cooking Vinyl.
And yes — it’s available on vinyl, CD, cassette, and of course streaming (but as we joked: stream it first… and when you realise how wonderful it is, go and buy it in all formats).
Because this is an album that doesn’t rush. It sits with you. It offers company. It asks questions rather than slogans — and in a loud world, that quiet truthfulness feels powerful.
ORDER THESE FRIGHTENING MACHINES ON VINYL
ORDER THESE FRIGHTENING MACHINES ON CD
Official Katherine Priddy Website
As always…
Music is the healer and the doctor.
Phil & Sue Aston | Now Spinning Magazine
