A carved linocut relief print of a grainy, high-contrast scene: a dark stage with a single microphone stand silhouetted against a wash of deep indigo and muted amber light, evoking a quiet backstage moment.

Video Credits

Music videos and live footage associated with A Roman Scandal.

Music Videos

  • DTs
    Directed by Michael Conner, Jackie Passmore, and Cathy Shive — 2001
  • Heaven27
    Directed by Alex Killough — 1999

Live Footage

  • Urban Outfitters Show
    Photographed by Charles Clark at SXSW — 2000

Alex Killough has moved to EatenByMoths.com. For more A Roman Scandal recordings and releases, visit the Releases page.

The visual language of the band's video work mirrors the raw energy of their recordings. Shot on modest equipment with limited budgets, these early music videos capture a moment when digital cameras were still a novelty and editing was a hands-on, tape-to-tape process. The grainy footage and harsh lighting were not stylistic choices born of intention but necessities that became signatures. Each frame carries the texture of its era, preserving the dimly lit clubs and cramped practice spaces where the music first took shape. There is an honesty in these images that polished productions cannot replicate, a document of creative urgency.

Live performances formed the backbone of the band's connection with audiences. In small venues and festival stages alike, the interplay between musicians created a volatile energy that recordings could only approximate. The footage from these shows reveals a group unafraid of imperfection, pushing tempos and stretching song structures into unpredictable shapes. Audience members appear in the frame, their reactions becoming part of the performance itself. These recordings serve as artifacts of a particular kind of musical community, where the boundary between performer and listener was deliberately blurred.

The collaborative nature of the band extended into their visual projects. Friends and fellow artists contributed direction, cinematography, and production support, resulting in videos that reflected a shared aesthetic rather than a single vision. Each collaborator brought their own sensibilities, from stark black-and-white compositions to saturated color experiments. This openness to outside influence kept the visual work from becoming repetitive or predictable. The videos function as time capsules of a creative network, documenting not just the band but the broader artistic environment that surrounded and sustained them.

Unreleased video material continues to surface among collectors and former associates of the band. These fragments include alternate takes, behind-the-scenes footage, and performances captured on handheld cameras by audience members. The incomplete nature of this archive adds to its mystique, each clip raising questions about what else might exist in storage boxes and hard drives. The search for these lost recordings has become a quiet pursuit among dedicated listeners, who share discoveries through informal channels. The gaps in the visual record are as meaningful as the surviving footage, reminders of how much ephemeral art simply fades away.