A lot's changed for Matt 'Murph' Murphy since The Wombats' 2007 debut 'A Guide to Love, Loss, and Desperation', the album that broke them out of the Liverpool scene and into the public eye. He now lives out in Los Angeles, has a wife and kids, and is calling in from a courtesy car in a parking lot on what looks like a scorchingly hot December morning.

"My car got rear-ended in traffic the other day," he recalls, "but don't worry, it happens all the time out here." This relaxed attitude is a new addition to the frontman's life and permeates its way through their sixth studio album, 'Oh! The Ocean'.

A tale of how to cope in the modern world, a world dominated by self-centred tendencies and increasingly terrifying technological advancements, it represents a turn towards the more experimental side of The Wombats' abilities, extending their indie-rock roots to encompass moments of gritty 80s electronica in 'Kate Moss', funk-adjacent basslines in opener 'Sorry I'm Late, I Didn't Want To Come', and more traditional nods to the British rock scene that raised them in 'Blood on the Hospital Floor'.

The sonic choices on 'Oh! The Ocean' make it clear that The Wombats still have plenty of life in them, threading all their years together through the record to create a daring yet familiar soundscape. Murph's lyrical style stands taller than ever before against a backdrop drenched in self-assuredness, maturity, and a clearer sense of self from all three bandmates.

"We've always made the conscious effort to sing incredibly personal songs but to balance it out with harmonies or something," Murph posits, "but I also found it really exciting to contrast big metaphors with sharp, concrete statements. It's what bands like The 1975, IDLES, or Jarvis Cocker and Pulp do really well: placing specific place names or intricate detail next to this really grandiose language."

In spite of Murph's new life in the home of Hollywood, 'Oh! The Ocean' is an album that seeks to push back against processed perfection. It's an album that is all about the human condition, coping with situations both in and outside of your control, making the inherently uncopiable nature of slip-ups central to securing honesty, vulnerability, and sincerity.

"We aimed for raw and adventurous. We wanted a record that was the antithesis of über-pop or AI-generated music, making the most of human mistakes and picking the most exciting parts. It would've been easy to use computers and make an album that's probably 10% too pop for us, but we thought, 'What can't algorithms do?', and they'll never be able to master the human art of fucking up."

Their decision to work with Grammy award-winning producer John Congleton helped, unlocking the band's ability to retain the human authenticity that has made them such stalwarts of the British alt-rock scene over the last 18 years.

"We thought it was riskier to keep the same producer instead of change, and Dan and Tord have worked with John before, and I couldn't see a reason not to," Murph remembers.

He continues: "He brought a different way of working that was really refreshing. He wouldn't listen to any demos we had, so everything was new and explorative for him. Every song started with me playing it on an acoustic guitar or piano – it was like Murph's Open Mic Night every day, which pissed me off sometimes – and then doing loads of bass and drum tracks and then piecing together the bits that were the most intriguing."

The culmination of all the hours of recording and re-recording – Congleton made the band play through songs in full instead of editing loops or tracks bit by bit – is an album that represents the growth that The Wombats have experienced throughout their career. Looking back to breakthrough singles 'Let's Dance To Joy Division', 'Jump Into The Fog', or 'Kill The Director', the band's energy is still heaped into their new music, just in a more considered manner than the heady days of the late-00s.

"That whole first album is essentially a prolonged panic attack," Murph states. "I don't know if we could even do that now. We were quite a fearful band at the start of our career. We found it hard to make ourselves heard in the Liverpool music scene, we didn't know where we stood and felt like we had to shout ten times louder than everybody else to be heard. There's more confidence and swagger now, there isn't that desperation to be liked anymore."

Luckily, people continue to love the Liverpudlian trio. Singles 'Sorry I'm Late, I Didn't Want To Come', 'My Head Is Not My Friend', and 'Blood On The Hospital Floor', all received rapturous responses from both die-hard and more recent fans, something that is sure to turn up even further as the intricate tapestry that is 'Oh! The Ocean' reaches the ears of listeners far and wide.

"This one feels really special to me, I really believe in this record," Murph proudly admits. "I think the ease with which it came makes me so proud of it, because I think that, when it comes to songwriting, usually the easier it is, the better it is. Every song puts up a fight, no matter how much you love it, so you have to be ready and willing for each wrestling match."

"I'm not crippled by it now if people don't like one of our songs or something we do," Murph continues. "Obviously, I want people to like it, but I won't be as devastated! I'm waiting for the album to come out before I get too invested in what fans are saying, because I think it shines brightest when it's listened to in its entirety; it's not just four singles and then some other filler tracks."

That sense of understanding, the desire to make music fans like without letting it overtake his conscience, is mirrored in the more nuanced takes on 'Oh! The Ocean'. Whilst there are overt moments of self-sabotage in 'My Head Is Not My Friend' and clear acknowledgements in 'I Love America, And She Hates Me' and 'Swerve' that the world is often an incomprehensible place, the overall message of the record is that, although the sun may set, it always rises for you to try again.

Getting to grips with the borders of his own psyche is an ongoing process for Murph, but it's a journey that has lifted the shutters and let some more light in as he fights against both personal and global demons, one that has been supplemented by his solo project, Love Fame Tragedy.

"The second Love Fame Tragedy album 'Life Is A Killer' definitely made me more comfortable with those 'heart on my sleeve' moments. It made me realise that I needed to be clearer and more honest, which allowed me to go further into my personal bullshit."

He continues: "I feel like I'm sort of reworking old ideas and infiltrating them with where I'm at now. So I'm taking something like 'Jump Into The Fog', which was pure nihilism, and offering an idea back to myself that recognises there's more to life than I thought 20 years ago. There was no grand narrative plan for this record, it just feels more exciting to be more transparent, artistically, so I just hit that full throttle and intend to for the foreseeable future."

Just as there was no master plan for the record's content or direction, the album was nameless until after recording. It wasn't until after the album was finished that Murph had the seminal moment that resulted in the title, taking a moment of exhaustion and turning it into existential inspiration.

"We'd decided to go on this staycation at the beach, and I'd had a really shit morning. I was exhausted and just looked out at the sea and thought, 'What the fuck is that?'. It's like somebody asking you, 'What's gravity? Like what actually is it?'. It triggered this metaphysical freakout but also a really sizable spiritual experience that I use now to remind me to get out of my own world and experience awe, to feel some gratitude about everything around me."

When Murph calls in for this chat, it's about a week out from Christmas, so it's all systems go in his new LA lifestyle. So, how is he coping now?

"My life is like a steam train with a concrete slab on the accelerator, so it feels like a bit of a shitshow! But honestly, I'm doing better than I ever have before. I can get quite selfish and do things that feel good for me for a few months but then rip my life apart down the line. I'm living in the moment now, not for the moment, so I'm securing that future for myself, my family, and the band."

It would be inaccurate to suggest that The Wombats that rose to prominence in 2007, the band that Murph describes as "exclusively styled by Topman with the same hairdresser," are totally unrecognisable today. They've maintained the relatability and impish charm that endeared them to fans all those years ago, and Murph has no intention of slowing down now.

"We're under no illusion that the rug could be pulled at any moment and that we're very fortunate to still be going. I hope we can create the circumstances that allow us to do this for years to come; it would be great to look back and have ten albums behind us."

Eighteen years and six albums older than when they first made their mark, Murph is taking charge of his life and growing into his skin. On 2011 single 'Tokyo (Vampires & Wolves)', Murph sings "I'm sick of dancing with the beast." Well, it might have taken a few mishaps and misfires, a few dark nights and even darker mornings, but he's ready to leave the ballroom floor and set sail for a new sunrise.