When the Sounds released Things We Do for Love, they didn’t get the usual sweaty, packed-club baptism. Instead, they played their record release show to the loneliest audience imaginable: an empty room, a few camera operators, and the internet.
“At first it feels like a long soundcheck,” Jesper told me, “but then you hit the first song and realize—Jesus, it’s completely empty.” The production crew tried clapping, which only made it worse. “Please don’t clap,” he laughed.
The Sounds have been at this for two decades, which means they’ve had time to practice resilience. They even know what it’s like to play a House of Blues show to 200 people in a 2,000-capacity room. “One of our best shows,” Jesper said. “When you have nothing to lose, you just go for it.”
That attitude bleeds into Things We Do for Love, a record that manages to sound both familiar and restless. The title track comes from an old demo resurrected nearly a decade later, while other songs came out of late-period collaborations within the band. “We’ve been writing all this time,” Jesper said, “but figuring out what direction to go has taken longer.”
And then there’s the context—the way old songs keep getting new meanings whether they like it or not. “‘Safe and Sound’ obviously came at the right time,” Jesper admitted of its pandemic resonance. “And ‘Great Day’—I hadn’t thought about it in years, but suddenly it resonates again.”
Like every long-running band, they wrestle with the “classic sound” dilemma. “In the beginning it felt like a curse,” Jesper said. “We sounded too much like Missing Persons or Blondie or Metric. But after twenty years, you realize, that is our sound. That’s the legacy.”
Legacy aside, vibe still matters most. Jesper and Frederik lean on the Blade Runner soundtrack as a creative reference point—not for the neon synths, but for the mood. “We talk a lot about emotions when we write,” Jesper said. “It’s not about having the perfect chorus, it’s about building a vibe. Blade Runner’s one of those albums you can put on anywhere—it’s pure atmosphere.”
The record closes with “Miami,” a song that drops the ominous line, “The darkness is taking me over.” Jesper swears I thought more about that lyric than they ever have. “Frederik wrote it,” he said, “maybe about a bad club gig in Miami where the owner lost it on us. But darkness is a great word in Sweden—we live in it half the year. And honestly, it’s easier to write songs when you’re sad or angry. Happiness is nice, but it’s not much of a chord progression.”
Two decades in, the Sounds are still finding angles, still pulling energy from anywhere—whether it’s club fights, long breaks, or dystopian sci-fi soundtracks. They’re still doing it for love, even if sometimes the crowd is invisible.
Listen to the interview above and then check out the videos below.
