Bad Knees formed in Edinburgh in 2024, a four-piece indie rock group leaning fully into a DIY approach—recording, mixing, and mastering their own music while keeping their live presence raw, direct, and unusually accessible.
Their new single Wallace tells the story of a stray dog found by frontman Michael—rescued, briefly wreaking havoc in his garden, then returned to its owner via a shelter. The band turned the episode into a song, delivered with the same candid tone that shapes their gigs and presence on the street.
They’ve made a name for themselves not just by where they play—from King Tut’s in Glasgow to Aberdeen’s Blue Lamp—but how they play. Their shows aren’t ticketed. They’re free to enter and donation-based, flipping the traditional model on its head. “We pride ourselves on making our music accessible,” the band says. “We’ve found that people often won’t come to underground shows full of bands they don’t know when they have to buy a ticket. We’re trying to flip that on its head.”
The spark came from a trip to Berlin. Michael attended stand-up nights run on donations and was struck by how effective and packed they were. Back in Edinburgh, watching a potential crowd turn away from a ticketed show sealed the idea. “That moment stuck with me. I couldn’t help but wonder—if they’d had the chance to check out the music first, would they have stayed and donated?”
Since then, Bad Knees have hosted regular DIY nights at Banshee Labyrinth, a literal labyrinth of a venue underneath the city. “People just naturally wander in,” they say. “That spontaneity is kind of magical.” The space and its easy-going staff have made it an ideal home for their approach, though the band hints at ambitions to take this model further afield.
Bad Knees busk with a full-band setup—battery-powered amps, portable drums, guitars, pedals, vocals. They admit it’s a logistical hassle (“a bit of a workout”), but the reaction has been worth it. “There’s always that temptation to stick to covers,” they note. “But weirdly, the opposite happened. Tourists in Edinburgh seem to love how surreal and raw it is. There’s something honest about it—and I think people connect with that.”
Busking and their donation shows are one and the same to them—same mission, same energy. “At the end of the day, it’s all about getting out there and playing our music. If people enjoy it, they can throw a few coins our way, follow us online, or just soak up some live music they weren’t expecting to find.”
The grassroots philosophy shapes how they think about their role in the scene too. “Our hope is to show that there’s another way,” they say, pointing to how ticket sales and promoters can become blockers for new or traveling bands. Their aim is to demonstrate that building something open and direct is possible—and even sustainable.
The writing process reflects this same sensibility. “It always starts personal,” says Michael, “but once we start playing it live, the audience becomes part of the process.” Their songs are stress-tested in real time, and evolve through trial and error in front of crowds—whether planned or accidental.
Read the full interview below for details on the Berlin inspiration, their portable amp rig, how tourists respond to distortion on the street, and the evolution of Wallace from backyard chaos to single.
Can you tell me more about how the idea for donation-based shows came about? Was there a particular moment or experience that pushed you in that direction?
The idea really clicked after a trip to Berlin. I went to a couple of stand-up comedy nights that ran on a donation-based model, and I was blown away—not just by how good the comedians were, but also by how packed the rooms were. When I got back to Edinburgh, I was at a friend’s gig and saw a group of people walk toward the venue, only to turn around when they found out it was ticketed. That moment stuck with me. I couldn’t help but wonder—if they’d had the chance to check out the music first, would they have stayed and donated?
Just to be clear, I’ve got nothing against ticketed shows—they’re totally valid. But that experience made me think: maybe a donation-based model could be a great way to include people who might not usually pay to see a band they’ve never heard of. So, we gave it a go, and honestly, it’s been working really well.
How do you usually go about organizing those nights? Are you working with the same venues/people regularly, or is it more spontaneous each time?
So far, all of our donation-based gigs have been at Banshee Labyrinth in Edinburgh. It’s kind of the perfect spot—it’s literally a venue with a labyrinth of bars, so people just naturally wander in. It’s a small, underground venue (literally underground), and that gives it a really intimate vibe. Plus, the team there—from the staff to the sound techs—are super easy to work with. We’d love to take this model to other venues and cities eventually. That’s definitely on the horizon.
What’s the vibe like at one of your shows – how do people usually respond to the “pay what you feel” model? Any moments that stood out?
People seem to really appreciate the donation-based setup. It takes the pressure off—if someone’s low on cash, they can still enjoy the music without feeling excluded. It makes the whole thing more accessible.
Some of the best reactions we’ve had have come from people who weren’t even planning to see a band. They just walked into a pub and suddenly found themselves at a gig. That spontaneity is kind of magical. It’s shown me that there’s a real appetite for this kind of music—you just have to make it easy for people to stumble into it.
I’m really curious about the full-band busking setup – what does that look like in practice? How do people react when they come across you playing on the street?
It’s a bit of a mission, but we’ve got it down to a system. We use a couple of battery-powered amps with four channels each, plus a battery power bank with a socket. We’ve also got a pocket drum kit—basically a slightly smaller version of a full kit. That lets us run two guitars, two vocals, bass, drums, and all our pedals. It’s a full setup, just like we’d use on stage.
Luckily, our guitarist lives in the city centre, so we store most of the gear at his place and trolley it down to wherever we’re playing. It’s a bit of a workout, but it’s worth it.
We were nervous at first about playing our original material on the street. There’s always that temptation to stick to covers because they’re familiar and usually go down well. And we worried that our heavier stuff might put people off. But weirdly, the opposite happened. Edinburgh’s full of tourists looking for something memorable, and when they stumble across four sweaty guys screaming over distortion, they seem to love how surreal and raw it is. There’s something honest about it—and I think people connect with that.
Do you see the busking and DIY gigs as part of the same mission, or are they kind of separate channels for you?
To me, they’re totally part of the same mission. At the end of the day, it’s all about getting out there and playing our music. If people enjoy it, they can throw a few coins our way, follow us online, or just soak up some live music they weren’t expecting to find. Whether it’s on the street or in a venue, it’s the same energy—just connecting with people through sound.
How does this grassroots approach shape your songwriting or what you write about?
Honestly, I don’t think it’s changed how we write—it’s more that it’s given us confidence in our process. The way we write seems to resonate with people, so we’ve just kept leaning into that.
Usually, it starts with a hook or a riff that we let simmer for a bit. Then we’ll home-record a demo, take it into the studio to tighten things up, and start playing it live. That’s where the real shaping happens. Over time, we find little licks, gaps, or tweaks that make the song better. The songs are always evolving. We don’t aim for perfection before playing them live—we use live shows to stress-test them and let them grow into something that feels right.
When you’re writing a track like this new single, do you have your live audience in mind? Or is it more personal at first?
It always starts personal. I’m usually just trying to write something I’d want to listen to. But once we start playing it live, the audience becomes part of the process. If we’ve played a song in a few different settings and it’s not landing, we’ll rethink it. So yeah, it begins as something personal, but it evolves with the crowd’s energy and feedback.
What kind of impact do you hope your music and your model have on other bands or on the local scene more broadly?
I think a lot of bands feel like the only way to get gigs is to book a venue and sell tickets—or go through a promoter who expects you to shift a certain number of tickets. And that’s fair enough, but it can be a huge barrier, especially for new bands or anyone playing in a city where they don’t have a built-in crowd of friends and family.
Our hope is to show that there’s another way. That you can build something from the ground up, connect with people directly, and create a scene that’s more open and accessible. If we can inspire even a few bands to try something different, that would be absolutely class.
