Tummyache Interview

Tummyache aren’t trying to be anything other than what they are. Honest, sometimes messy, and always human. What started as Soren Bryce’s solo outlet has naturally grown into something bigger, shaped by different backgrounds, sounds and experiences. Their music doesn’t hide behind polish or pretense. It’s confessional, vulnerable, and often quietly confrontational in a way that doesn’t ask for attention, but earns it.

In this conversation, the band speaks openly about what it means to perform stripped-back, to hold space for others, and to stay grounded in a scene that often favours ego over empathy. There’s no clear formula behind what they do, just a willingness to show up, stay open, and keep building something real with the people around them.

Acoustic sets can reveal the bones of a song—its flaws and its soul. What’s something you’ve discovered about your own music through stripping it back?

For me, playing acoustically is always nice because it’s how the song is originally written. In a way it’s not so much stripping back as it is exposing the origins of something. I really enjoy the nakedness and vulnerability of having to get up there with nothing else to mask you.

You’re a band born from different countries, backgrounds, and scenes. What kind of creative tension or magic comes from that mix, especially live?

We have always tried to incorporate our individual influences sonically even if the song I am bringing is mostly from my lens. I am hoping in the future to incorporate more of Bianka’s Slovakian background into the musicality. Tummyache for us is a community and we belong to so many other amazing international people within the UK and elsewhere, we’ve been very blessed to have the friends we have.

You’ve described your writing as confessional. Do you ever feel exposed onstage—or does performance help reclaim what’s been laid bare?

I think I will always feel a bit exposed on stage. It’s hard to fully convey everything you hope to say in a performance, especially when I’m not privy to eloquent speeches or anything of that nature, I’m actually quite shy. I try to have the music speak for itself and I am grateful that our audience has appreciated that sentiment, and also that they feel they can come speak to me 1 on 1 at any time. I much prefer shows with low stages or where we’re eye level over being above everyone - just feels unnatural. We are all there together creating the moment so why should I be on a pedestal just because I’ve got a microphone in front of me?

Playing acoustic in small spaces changes the emotional stakes. Are there particular songs that take on a new weight or intimacy in this setting?

I suppose some of them feel a bit heavier as you really are able to hear everything I’m saying, I have never felt afraid of that though and in fact it can be quite nice to have that nakedness as an artist because you have nowhere to hide so you hope you’ve done enough to express yourself in that moment.

You’ve carved a path through DIY scenes on both sides of the Atlantic. What lessons have stuck with you from those grassroots beginnings?

Work hard, be grateful, everyone has a story and everyone deserves to be there.

If Egosystem is about holding up a mirror to ego and identity, what kind of reflections have you faced in writing—and performing—it?

I always come up against existing in a predominantly male-dominated scene as well as a prominently white scene, which can exist as an echo chamber especially if we don’t acknowledge it. I feel very privileged to have earned a spot in this space, as I know it can be very difficult to ‘hang with the guys’ in this scene. I hope we can all continue to progress and acknowledge our privilege and create space for others as well, that’s what DIY should ACTUALLY be about, at the end of the day. There are very talented people I know that have never felt welcome in the types of events that we play and I want to take ownership of that and make sure EVERYONE feels welcome at a tummyache gig, and that they are safe. If people have a problem with that then probably shouldn’t come to our gig.

Your sound spans intensity and stillness. What’s the emotional gear you shift into for acoustic shows—do you go softer, or does it just reveal a different kind of heaviness?

I like to use acoustic shows as an opportunity to let the songs shine through in the way they were written, so I suppose it will still be a dynamic variety, just with different tools.

Even in heavy moments, there’s sometimes a wry humor or absurdity in your writing. Is that intentional, or does it just leak in?

It potentially is just a coping mechanism to be tongue-in-cheek, you can get away with saying a lot more and it mean a lot more as well.

As Tummyache evolved from a solo project to a full band, how has that changed what the songs mean—for you and for your bandmates?

Because tummyache was always intended to be a band project, I have learned how to communicate and collaborate in a way that includes everyone’s musical personality. I’m sure I still have some way to go, but with the core group we have now it’s been nice to settle in in a way. Tummyache has had many iterations and players, so it’s nice to see how even that communal aspect has leaked into the recordings.

Tummyache's music has evolved from raw indie rock to more nuanced compositions. How do you see your sound developing in the future?

There’s never really a goal, I try to use the tools at my disposal to express what my current life situation calls for. So I honestly have no idea, and I like that. It helps you stay even slightly unbiased and homogenous.

What do you hope people carry home with them after this show—not just sonically, but emotionally or intellectually?

I hope people can be present and feel the space and the people that are there with them creating that moment. I hope they carry that sort of peace and inner-working into their own lives and try to pass it forward to the others around them as well.

Follow Tummyache

By the REAL Editorial Team | May 14, 2025