Track-by-Track: David Gates Walks Us Through ‘Watched Over by Machines of Loving Grace’

It hasn’t always been glorious, but David Gates has made it this far and wants to share his story. That’s the purpose of his new album Watched Over by Machines of Loving Grace. Released last month, the record is a rumination on his past, present, and relationship with music. The 40-year-old singer-songwriter spent the better part of nine months writing the album, eleven tracks that serve as his tribute to the album in its classical form. With the way the music industry is evolving, the traditional full-length album is becoming less significant. The increasing significance of AI is also negatively affecting the conventional aspects of popular music. Gates still sees value in the album which provided much of the inspiration he was seeking in composing this set of tracks.

Additionally, Watched Over by Machines of Loving Grace is a commentary on living life as a neurodivergent individual. He has a history of addiction and childhood trauma and was recently diagnosed with autism. Gates’ relationship with addiction and autism has, at times, led him to have more empathy with machines than people. His neurodivergence has impacted his ability to be the type of father he wants to be to his daughter. He felt that throwing these thoughts and feelings into a record was the best way to share his insights and emotions.

Gates joins us today for an exclusive Track-by-Track rundown of Watched Over by Machines of Loving Grace, unpacking each song and its inspirations in detail.

1. “All Watched Over by Machines of Loving Grace”

“This track serves as a sort of mission statement. It opens with audio glitches and random tapped guitar notes, expanding into a broader sound reminiscent of Radiohead’s ‘Planet Telex.’ Lyrically, it grapples with the concepts of AI and the cyclical nature of knowledge, where ideas are recycled infinitely rather than truly innovated. It also explores the unsettling notion that humanity feels increasingly out of control of its own destiny, as if life is unfolding with no urgency or input from us.

“The sound is deliberately grand, akin to those ’90s records that open with a heavy hitter. The outro, featuring horns and orchestral elements, is heavily influenced by Sigur Rós’ ‘Where No Cars Go,’ creating a juxtaposition with the otherwise cold subject matter. As with the entire album, I recorded this track at home, which was frankly a bit of a nightmare. The sheer amount of instrumentation, particularly with the orchestral parts, nearly caused my PC to explode. But I suppose that’s rather fitting, considering the theme. Not that it made it any easier to play in time!”

2. “For the Love Of”

“This track voices a more direct fear of AI. It touches on the shifting concept of what we consider sacred in society. The influence of R.E.M. and the ‘Everything Must Go’ era of Manic Street Preachers is clear here. There’s a lot of orchestration, interspersed with jangly Jaguar guitar. At six minutes long, it’s also a bit of a pushback against the ‘keep it short for TikTok’ mentality that’s prevalent in some corners of the music industry. It’s got a strong hook, so I consciously chose not to hold back. The track is as long as it needs to be, without succumbing to the ‘kill your darlings’ approach. I’m quite pleased with the guitar solo in this one as well.”

3. “Methuselah”

“This is a more straightforward piece about getting older and recognizing it in others before you see it in yourself. It was inspired by a friend I hadn’t seen in a long time, who, despite not losing their hair, made me realize how age creeps up on all of us. The Smiths were a big influence here, especially in the lyrical turnaround for the last chorus, though the song is a bit more cheerful and optimistic. It also features a bodhrán, a nod to my Irish lineage and the fact that it’s a ‘little story’ of a song, which is a very Irish style of songwriting.”

David Gates ‘Watched Over by Machines of Loving Grace’ album artwork

4. “Memory”

“This track opens with a Granddaddy-style synth riff, which gives way to a standard rock groove with slide guitars. The first line, ‘Broken bottles, same problems…,’ references my days as an active alcoholic. It tries to mask my sense of disconnection from the world with booze. I wrote it after a conversation about how we fill our long days with such disposable and brief media, which seems counterintuitive—like TikTok and Facebook shorts.

“The line, ‘Smooth skin, bloated lips, nothing upstairs and brain around the hips,’ might seem harsh in hindsight, but it’s not directed at any specific group. It’s more a critique of the accepted aesthetic and personality norms, which I find quite startling, baffling, and common. As you get older, these societal shifts become more obvious and alienating.

“The song ends with an electronica meets soul vibe, a deliberate choice as the next few tracks are heavily inspired by Chiptune artists like LukHash, whom I adore. An album about the clash between technology and tradition should reflect both elements to maintain balance, as I’m a fan of both.”

5. “Preparing for Emergencies”

“This track almost serves as a counter-argument to the album’s beginning—a second voice. I’ve been reading a lot of history lately, One thing that’s abundantly clear is that vast swathes of human events are just products of wider forces beyond our control. This song is about humanity’s habit of trying to find order in chaos, whether through stockpiling, circling wagons, or blaming different groups of people. It’s almost entirely electronic, with a brief guitar bit at the end.

“LukHash was a significant influence, and if people haven’t heard his work, I highly recommend it. If his music were recorded by orchestras, he’d be lauded as an all-time musical genius. I purposefully used archaic sounds from things like AdLib soundcards to create a ‘futuristic’ sound, at least what I imagined as futuristic as a child. It’s got strong Depeche Mode vibes, another massive influence on me.”

6. “Rebranded”

“This track is quite personal, though I won’t delve into the specifics. It’s also closely tied to technology. Before social media, losing contact with someone was often a clear-cut affair. Unless you lived near them or had a reason to reconnect, you’d likely never see them again. Now, people can accidentally slide back into our lives through a video or photograph, reopening old wounds very quickly. This gives our ‘downtime’ an air of risk. It’s also about making the active choice to end damaging behaviours rather than passing them on or taking them out on others.

“The piece is heavily electronic, though I used some pitch and time correction with an old bossa nova drum machine to create a halfway analogue and digital feel. The track ends with a bit of primal scream therapy—a lung-buster vocally—hoping that whatever the outcome of a certain situation, the person finds peace, otherwise it’s all for nothing.”

David Gates, photo by David Gates

7. “Predictable Symphony”

“This track is almost entirely inspired by the ‘Song of Seikilos,’ the oldest surviving complete musical composition. I fell in love with Jamie Lenman’s version of it, which you can find here. It found me at a bit of a crisis point, where I felt that much of what I was writing was derivative, predictable, and obvious.

“The chorus, ‘words fail me, a predictable symphony, the same four chords for a chorus with intent’ says it all, really. Thankfully, this piece of music, being so odd and monophonic, made me realize that if something is beautiful, it’s just beautiful. There’s no need to overthink it. Lyrically, it’s also about the feeling of loss for something we’ve never really had—lamenting a gap.”

8. “Futurist”

“This track leans heavily towards Radiohead and also features a cowbell, which I’m unironically in love with. It’s a combination of the electronic and traditional elements present throughout the album. The ‘Breadbin’ in the chorus refers to a Commodore 64, one of my most beloved possessions as a child. It gave me infinite comfort, and I preferred its company to most people. Here lies the conflict of the record—although I fear some aspects of technological progress, as an autistic person, I often find the presence of machines less complicated and more comforting than the company of humans.

“The track features a SID synth on the chorus, the same chip that gave the C64 its distinctive sound. The sounds of children playing are a direct comment on how these noises were more a source of anxiety than excitement when I was young. I didn’t understand their structure, but my Commodore—well, we understood each other.”

9. “Acceptable Limits of Being Sick”

“This track continues the blend of electronic and traditional music, with thick bass thunks interspersed with synths and Johnny Marr-ish guitar lines that add some soul and lightness. The main theme is society’s rather half-hearted approach to mental illness and difference. There’s a constant dialogue about ‘talking about how we feel’ and ‘being more open and honest about ourselves.’ In reality, much of this is just window dressing. We’re drones, designed to make money and maintain a certain level of sustainability.

“My grandfather was a miner, a medic during the war, and later a psychiatric nurse—roles that were incredibly taxing physically and mentally. While we may no longer suffer from black lung or ruined spines, we’ve traded our physical health for our mental well-being. That’s what inspired this song—everyone is sick. We’re animals in a world not designed for animals. But for the purposes of this hypothetical system, we’re just about on the right side of well enough to be useful. Until we’re not.”

10. “For Catherine O’er the Sea”

“This is the most directly personal song on the album. Eleven years ago, I was a severe alcoholic, drinking up to two litres of alcohol a day and given just months to live. After nearly biting off my tongue during a seizure and the birth of my daughter, it was mutually decided that I needed to go to rehab. There, I met some of the best people I’ve ever known.

“One of them was Cat, an incredibly sweet, good-natured, and wonderful soul. I used to joke that she looked like a silent film starlet because of her expressive eyes. She always brightened a room. The rehab was in Lowestoft, a tired, broken-down seaside town in Suffolk that was freezing and damp but ultimately my salvation. This inspired the sounds of the sea in the track, the lyrics referencing it, and particularly the statue of Neptune on the coastal wall.

“This was the most stripped-back song on the album, as it felt closest to me. It is heavily influenced by Neutral Milk Hotel. Sadly, Cat passed away a few years ago, losing her battle with her demons. I often think of her and dream of her—she was a very sweet soul.”

11. “I’ll See You There”

“This track is also very close to my heart, finalizing the mixture of electronic and analogue elements. It was a difficult subject to write about, and I had to stop recording several times because I ended up in tears. It’s a message to my daughter and partner, acknowledging the areas where I feel I fall short as a father and partner due to my autism. My hatred of the seaside and going on holiday are two examples mentioned in the song. These may sound like small things, but they contribute to a wider feeling that no matter how hard I try, I’m not like other people.

“Despite this, I let them know I love them, and this is the finality of the record. It sums up that despite all the confusion and conflict in the world, the only thing that makes sense to me is them. There are brief snippets at the end of my daughter laughing when she was little and saying ‘I love you.’ This is intentionally quiet, so as not to be emotionally exploitative of the listener. The album then concludes with strings and horns from the song, ending with a refrain and the final chord that started the album.

“All in all, I’m very proud of this record, especially as I accomplished it on my own. I feel the last track best illustrates the only reason it exists at all—because of the love of my family.”