Forming in 2012, Melbourne indie rock band Ceres soon found themselves a popular mainstay not just within their local music community but right around the country.
Emerging at a time when Australian music was enjoying a wave of emotionally-driven rock courtesy of bands like The Hard Aches, Camp Cope and Luca Brasi for the first time, Ceres were quick to occupy a space in the hearts of Aussie music fans who gravitated towards Tom Lanyon’s lyricism and delivery – both vulnerable and visceral in good measure.
After three albums and countless years of touring, Ceres made a quiet departure from the music scene following the release of their 2019 album, We Are a Team. There was no official messaging around the band’s decision to retreat from the spotlight but in 2024, the band returned out of nowhere with new music that reignited the fanbase – the love for Ceres had never waned, simply awakened.
With the release of the impactful single “Want/Need” last May, conversations surrounding the future of the band began to swirl. Was this just a single drop? New album, new tour?
Thankfully, fans didn’t need to wait long for answers: Ceres followed things up with the announcement of their fourth studio album, Magic Mountain (1996-2022), while also making their long-awaited return to live shows, touring the East Coast in support of “Want/Need”.
The shows were intimate and full of emotion. Fans who had grown up with the band were now in these rooms being able to reconnect with a band who had been such a crucial part of the Australian music space during the 2010s. For newer fans, they were finally able to share space with a band whose music had meant so much to them, and in the case of some of the support acts on the bill, had inspired them to create music themselves.
October saw the official release of Magic Mountain (1996-2022) – a hugely ambitious record, one that Lanyon has described as being “as close to a solo record as I’ll ever do.” Written on a bed of childhood memories, as well as journeying themes of love, life and loss, the album detailed a period of time in Lanyon’s life where he navigated adulthood, relationships, and the challenges woven throughout.
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Ahead of the band’s forthcoming national tour (see full dates below), Lanyon told Tone Deaf about the creation of this mammoth album – one that took four years to write and record, and one that took him to places as a songwriter that even he didn’t see coming.
But first, we took him back to those first comeback shows in 2024…
Tone Deaf: Being at one of those two shows in Melbourne, it was so sweet to overhear conversations people were having, people who had never been able to see you guys perform before – maybe they were too young, or the timing had never been right. It was wonderful to hear them talking about how influential Ceres had been on them as music fans and in some cases, artists.
Tom Lanyon: I still feel like I don’t know what I’m doing! It’s like my whole life is just like winging it. Especially being away. It was so cool to come back. We didn’t announce a hiatus or anything like that. In my mind, it wasn’t [a hiatus] because I was working on this goddamn record for so long. It’s the hardest [thing] I’ve ever worked on in the band in the last four years.
I’m a big believer in you only say something when you’ve got something to say. The worst thing a band can do is just be talking without saying or having anything to say. I want to respect the listener as much as the listener respects us. We can’t do it without them.
Let’s get into this beautiful, sprawling album then. Was it a cathartic experience for you to go through?
I wrote a lot of those songs four years ago. The first half of the album, that sort of nostalgic, melancholy kind of half… a lot of that was in 2020. And then, for lack of a better word, the ‘miscarriage’ half, that was probably 2021. Then we just worked on it for two years, it was way, way too long.
But to answer your question, it’s absolutely cathartic to me. I would be doing it anyway. I feel like that’s kind of like my little outlet. I like doing it. Even playing shows is kind of cathartic – the songs are louder and bigger, and I can scream more. That is like an exorcism of stuff, you know? It’s a way for me to deal with shit.
Clearly music has been that avenue for you from the beginning. And I love that through all of the series material it’s almost like we can see that personal development really beautifully, you know? Not just as a songwriter, but also just as a young person navigating the weird complexities of what we all have to go through.
You’re right. From the first record or the first EP to now, I’ve just grown up. I was in my early 20s or whatever… it’s been almost 13 years now. I need the music to always be genuine, though. I want it to be honest and genuine, and I think that’s coming back to that respect thing as well.
People are like, “How could you be so honest in songs?” and like, “How do you feel like that? Are you embarrassed or do you get nervous or whatever?” I’m just like, “That’s the only way.” If they’re not genuine, then I don’t want to do it.
Can you tell me some of the stories behind some of these tracks?
I sent out some demos to Stu Harvey from the label and he wrote back saying, “This is really raw. Are you sure you want to do this?” I replied just saying, “If it’s not not honest, what’s the point?”
For “1997” the catalyst was me driving down this hill that I used to drive down as a kid, like, walking down to the school as a kid. Up in the mountains. I had a flashback memory that I had repressed, and hadn’t even thought about it for 20 years. There was a fire in 1997 – these big fires were happening, everyone’s getting evacuated and there was a fire truck driving past and I heard a firefighter say, “It’s coming over the top of Magic Mountain.” It was a colloquial name for where my home is. I just drove down that street and all that played in my head.
That song was originally called “Magic Mountain” but I’ve just got a weird thing about title songs in records; I don’t like naming a record after a song. You can put too much pressure on it. Every time a band that I like does it I’m like, “That’s the worst song on the record…” I’m superstitious! For this though, that was a catalyst because I could then feel the record forming.
I wrote some songs in chronological order, up until “Sunshining” — halfway through the record I was like, “Okay, I’m done.” It was a cool, weird, cosy trip of nostalgia. I was living up the mountain for the second time as an adult, trying for a family… I was leaning into a nice, melancholic feeling. Melancholic-tinged nostalgia. All of these things kept swirling around in my head so when I got to “Sunshining”, I was ready to call it done and move on; that would have been the record done.
And pretty much the day I think I wrote “Common Everlasting (Birdsong)” and “Sunshining”, my partner and I were pregnant. So it’s a bit uplifting. There’s heaps of baby references in those last two songs; I think I was a bit euphoric, it was all great. And then the miscarriage happened. It was only a few days after I wrote “Sunshining”, I walked up to the little studio at the back of my house and recorded “Holly Hill Store Est. 1920” in one take. So, on the album, you have the euphoric highs of “Sunshining” that then go straight down, like falling off a cliff. I wanted it to feel like that, naturally. That’s how I went through it.
I wrote “Holly Hill” and knew I had way more to say. I had this whole other thing I had to write about, and I knew I was going to have to [write about it], because that’s what I would have done to get through it anyway. That’s why it took so long to finish.
It sounds like the creative process was so intimately connected with the grieving process for you. I’m a big believer that with these sorts of traumatic events, the grieving process never really stops but it does reach a place where you can be at peace and acceptance. We just get better at dealing with it each day. It takes time and unfortunately, it can’t be rushed.
For sure. I mean, it took me from “Holly Hill” to writing “1996 (Ceres F.O.)”. It took me about a year. Like you say, it’s a process, and it’s not linear. There are ups and downs; there are songs on this album about my partner and I fighting because of the pressure put on us. That’s the song “D-O-O-M”, the doubt about our relationship. Thinking about what I was bringing to relationships just opened up all this stuff. The classic Ceres trope of having a dead dad too, that brought it all up again.
The song “”In the Valley”” is a culmination of all that; it’s the saddest song I’ve ever written, probably because it’s just for me. I remember where I was and it was at the bottom of the barrel, right at the bottom.
Moving through those, there’s a couple more acoustic ditties, and then “realm” feels like lifting up out of the darkness, into “1996 (Ceres F.O.)”, which I’m really proud of. It’s the song where it’s like, “Stand up straight, get your shit together because you’ve got responsibilities and someone who loves you.” It’s a note to get up and keep going. And then when we finally had our baby, it was like, we did it. We got there.
“1996 (Ceres F.O.)” was the end of the record. Then we got pregnant and actually had the baby, my daughter. I was playing a song I’d half-written and when she was a baby, I was playing it to her and she started grabbing at the strings. That’s what you hear at the end of “viv”, [the] plucking of the strings. She laughs on it too, so I thought it was perfect.
A pure concept album! There is a beautiful through line with this, though. You’ve always been an intensely intimate songwriter – I think that is one of the best parts about what Ceres do. Were there any options during the writing of this where you surprised yourself?
I was surprised about the nostalgic angle, that wasn’t the plan. As I keep going [with writing], there needs to be a reason why I’m writing a record. With this I was like, “Man, is this it? Okay, cool. How weird.” I was just surprised about the process and the themes that were coming through me.
Obviously it made sense, I was back in my old town and there were all these old memories that I was remembering. I was surprised about how much shit you can suppress, that you don’t realise you forgot about. There are memories deep down inside of you, that you just don’t realise are there.
It’s interesting the role that memory plays. I feel like at different points in our life, we repress things for a reason. Sometimes it’s almost a bit of a defence mechanism. And then when we do remember them later, it can almost be in a completely different way to how it happened.
Oh, totally. This process has shown me how lucky I am to have these guys in the band with me too. I didn’t take it for granted, but I know now that if you take a song and let the other people explore it, it’s so sick. The whole is greater than the sum of its parts. Magic Mountain, for me, was so insular. If anyone wanted a facsimile of my brain just sent to them through headphones, it’s like that. That’s what the record is, what my brain has felt for the last four years.
Where We Are a Team was a team effort (pardon the pun), this one is as close to a solo record as I’ll ever do, I think. You shouldn’t listen to it all the way through in one go – you’ve got to do it little by little. I should have put intermission bells on it! Halfway through, take a little break, and then come through for the second half.
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The last thing I wanted to get your thoughts on was how we are, looking forward. You mentioned there was no real plan for the beginning of this new creative arc for Ceres. But then, we were talking about the unexpected swell of love, the hunger for the band through these live shows. What is exciting you the most about where this album can take things, but also what this has meant for the band?
Yeah, we had no idea how things would go when we announced that tour. We were active and doing things – we were still a band in my mind. Especially when it was me writing this goddamn record. So those shows… It was like, “It’s good to be back,” but it didn’t feel like we were. We were still doing things behind the scenes, but we weren’t active and we weren’t talking to people. I was just hoping people were still around. The reaction we received was so crazy, and that tour was so good. I can’t wait to be out there again.
We’re not chasing this, but it’s an honest way of doing things now; we just want to do things. We’ve all got families now, but it’s just so fun. I just feel really lucky and grateful that I’m in a band people still care about. If I did all of this and no one came to the shows, or if you and I weren’t talking, I still would have done it, to be honest.
The hunger is 100% there. The future is looking good.
Ceres 2025 Tour Dates
Ticket information available here
Saturday, February 22nd
Altar, Hobart, TAS
Friday, February 28th
Lion Arts Factory, Adelaide, SA
Saturday, March 1st
Rosemount Hotel, Perth, WA
Thursday, March 6th
The Brightside, Brisbane, QLD
Friday, March 7th
Oxford Art Factory, Sydney, NSW
Friday, March 14th
Corner Hotel, Melbourne, VIC
