It’s hard to pin down who Khruangbin are. That’s partly due to their sound — wide-ranging, incorporating everything from 1960s Thai funk to surf, soul, psychedelia and rock. It’s also partly due to the fact that two of its members — Mark Speer and Laura Lee Ochoa — wear wigs on stage and in any kind of public appearance.
“It’s pretty obvious that me and LL, with the hairstyle, it’s meant to create anonymity,” Speer, the band’s guitarist, tells me. They’re wearing them as we chat; Speer’s comes down over his eyes and makes him look like a 1970s hippy. Mystique is their stock in trade; that, combined with their electrifying live performances, has combined to send Khruangbin’s reputation stratospheric.
Despite never having a single in the Top 20, they’ve been nominated for a Grammy (ironically, for Best New Artist this year), sold out international tours and been streamed over 1.2 billion times on Spotify. They’re the ultimate cult band, who just happen to be loved by everybody in the know. And despite being Texas born and bred, they’re Londoners too.
“We’re very familiar with flats in London,” Speer tells me wryly when I apologise for the clutter visible behind me. “We broke in London.”
“I lived in London for a good while,” Ochoa, who plays bass, chimes in. “In Hackney. Khruangbin got started in London because I was there... our first shows ever as a more established band happened in the UK. It’s like a kind of second home. It feels really cosy to me. I just love it.”
That’s good, because they’re here a lot. The trio — completed by drummer Donald “DJ” Johnson — was last here for a two-night stay in Hammersmith late in 2024, which earned them rave reviews and ended up being one of the season’s hottest tickets. This year, they will be taking to Gunnersbury Park in August for the latest stop in their world tour.
“I wanted to start a band, and I asked them”
Formed in Houston in the early 2010s, the band has proudly proclaimed its Texan identity since the very first days it started playing music. Their origin story has taken on the feel of myth. Speer and Johnson, both formidable musicians, came together through playing in the gospel band at St John’s Methodist Church (incidentally, the same one Beyoncé Knowles attended as a child) in downtown Houston.
They were joined in 2007 by Ochoa. “Mark and DJ would share a meal after their rehearsals. And I crashed one Tuesday, and I never left for three years,” she laughs. “I wanted to start a band, and I asked them. I wasn’t knocking at the door waiting for them to let me in.”
Speer taught Ochoa the ropes on the bass; almost immediately, she was hired to tour (alongside Speer) with electronic rocker Yppah, who opened for English musician Bonobo on his world tour. It incentivised Ochoa and Speer to start making music more seriously, and helped kick-start Khruangbin, whose first track appeared soon after on Bonobo’s Late Night Tales compilation album.
Titled A Calf Born in Winter, it became of the album’s most popular tracks, paving the way for their debut EP, and then their own album, The Universe Smiles Upon You, in 2015: an airy, dreamy collection filled with sounds that have become classic Khruangbin. That is, Johnson’s impeccable timing, Ochoa’s bass and Speer noodling above both, in a sort of easy, three-way conversation.
“I wouldn’t necessarily call us retro or anything, or trying to rehash nostalgia”
Khruangbin’s music, which is often wordless, has a lovely clarity to it, but one thing is clear: they’re not a heritage act. “I wouldn’t necessarily call us retro or anything, or trying to rehash nostalgia, but there is an element of simplicity in what we do by design,” Speer says.
“In our particular case, we play the instruments we play, and we try to see what we can do with us as three people, which is limiting, and that’s kind of nice.” That applies to their live music, too: the trio make a point of not recording any music that cannot be recreated perfectly at a gig.
“I think another aspect of most of our music is that it’s been recorded in nature,” Ochoa adds. “And the barn we record in is not isolated from any element — rain, wind, insects, birds, cows. They’re all in the conversation when we make music. There’s a sort of, allowing nature to speak for itself, which is lost, I think, in a lot of music.”
Ah yes, the barn: all but one of the trio’s albums have been recorded in a small barn in the countryside between Austin and Houston. Made from corrugated iron and surrounded by cows, it’s as rustic as it sounds. In addition to the birds, bees and wind, there is also the aforementioned herd of cows, all of which have made their way into Khruangbin’s unique sound. Though, in the case of the cows, they’re polite.
“I have personally never heard them moo right in a moment where there’s a breath of music,” Speers adds.
That sense of authenticity, as well as their hefty, wide-ranging musical chops, has helped Khruangbin carve out a niche in an increasingly crowded musical market. But as befits a band who like to keep things simple, they’re not in it for the fame.
“If nobody could see me, but just hear me, that’d be awesome”
“I like staying in the shadows,” Johnson says. “If I could play a show under the stage, I would. If nobody could see me, but just hear me, that’d be awesome. But, you know, it comes with the territory, and you deal with it as best as you can.”
“We’re all nerds,” Ochoa chimes in, and Speer agrees. “I really, really want to spend my time making art,” he continues, and gestures to the wig he’s wearing. “It’s odd how much this can change my appearance. If I take this off and go walk around in my regular clothes, no one is going to recognise me, which is really nice. I think that helps keep my perspective on quote-unquote fame.”
That element of privacy applies to their online presence, too. “I’m trying more and more to disconnect from the social aspect of the internet,” Speer says. “It can really suck your time. It is made to be addicting, and as someone who is expected to spit out really amazing music on a constant basis, I need to be inspired. And very little in the social media realm is inspiring to me.”
His words feel especially interesting given Khruangbin’s various influences, many of which (such as Afghan music) Speer discovered down various rabbit holes back at the start of the internet era, which he still talks fondly about now.
“I care more about what feels real and honest than I ever have before”
In addition to social media, things have changed since they started. Ochoa has become a mother, which she says has given her “more conviction than I ever have … because I’m not just setting an example for myself, I’m setting an example for her.
“I care more about what feels real and honest than I ever have before. And certainly, in terms of inspiration, it’s coming from different places,” she says wryly. “There’s an infinite request for The Wheels on the Bus in the back seat of the car.”
And of course, there’s the current state of politics. For a band who draw such inspiration from the place they grew up, it must be hard to avoid the impact that the current administration is having on the entirety of the country — especially the Deep South, where many of Trump’s voters live.
The band bristle slightly when I bring up the issue; Speers lets out a loud groan.
“I’m from the state. I’m from the land, I’m not from one person or multiple persons,” Ochoa says carefully. “I’m from the place and the school and my friends, and that’s how I think about Texas.”
“It’s funny, because I’m pretty sure all the cities in Texas would be considered blue, but the state legislature is considered red,” Speer adds. “So how can you have real representation, if the representative of your state doesn’t really represent the cities where all the people live?” Rather than chat politics, they’re focusing on touring. And on speaking about Texas in the way they know best: through music.
“Texas wouldn’t be what it is without all the laws that exist there. But that’s not what I think defines where I’m from,” Ochoa says. “Those records are — they have Texas all over them. Truly. And it might be subtle, and you might not be able to explain it in words, but it’s there.”
