Part 2
Tell me about your aesthetic preferences for picking effects like reverb, delay, compression, chorus etc … - what was the role of these effects in the production of your current release?
The simple magic of effect automation is something I learned to appreciate early on when I first began making electronic dance music. But when it comes to reverbs and delays, I prefer an elegant dry/wet balance. I just love the distinct contrast between dry drum impulses and vast soundscapes.
This brings us back to the principle of call and response: the dry kick calls, the lush pads answer. A contraction answers the spacious call of a percussion loop drenched in delays during buildups into a bone-dry arpeggio. This tension and release creates energy—that's what I need effects for. Nico and I share that understanding on a deep level, so I believe "Nano" reflects this very well.
When it comes to compressors, I initially didn't have the option on my first DAW, so I didn't learn to understand them until much later. To compensate, I taught myself to achieve "compression" by using layering techniques, EQs, filters, and transient designers. There are many other ways to sharpen transients, achieve dynamics and loudness, and glue things together. I still have the habit of avoiding compressors for the most part.
"Nano" carries multiple examples of these techniques. The hi-hat group consists of multiple Vermona DRM recordings layered on top of each other, achieving a gluing effect that basically connects the drum section with the pads. The clave sound consists of three differently pitched layers, which opens it up to subtle manipulations in loudness and tone throughout the arrangement.
Last but not least, the keys and piano work in a larger space, while the dryness of the kick and bass section works in contrast.
The current production process allows for fast and infinite variations. Can you tell me about how you deal with this potential for the infinite and what ultimately decides on how many iterations to create and which version to release?
The endlessness of options is generally a blessing!
As we established earlier, I naturally find comfort in starting with the known. There's always a grid—an artificial limitation I can apply, then test and explore. This is particularly fun when collaborating with others.
Sometimes, suddenly, anything seems possible! That's where the endlessness of options comes into play. To determine when a track is finished, we rely on our subjective taste, our individual gut feeling, and a mutual understanding of the track's versatility.
If it checks these basic boxes, the track should be finished, and we can move on. There's more fun to be had with the next one!
Tell me about the role collaboration played in your recent productions – and how you see the potential for machines as collaborators compared to humans.
Collaboration has always provided some of my most exciting creative experiences. Working together with kindred souls helps test each other's boundaries and break out of common patterns.
Collaboration isn't only a creativity booster. I also consider it a practice in patience, connectivity, social skills, awareness, and friendship—it's constructive play that takes us outside our comfort zones and expands our horizons.
In our recent journey with Tooker and Nico Stojan, we quickly discovered that we have a unique dynamic. As soon as we come together in a room, we start breaking boundaries. Breaking boundaries brings growth, and that's what we crave: progress and growth.
So the human elements play a crucial role in my personal creative process. Whether it's collaborating with the crowd in a live setting or working together with a group of friends, this is where I see the most playful results.
This contrasts with the times around 2020, when the isolation triggered creative stagnation for me. I deeply missed the exchange I experienced with all kinds of people when traveling. These interactions and experiences all fed into my productions in some way or another, so everything became much harder when living under lockdown.
Generally, I'm open to using machines or AI tools! But they will never replace the kind of interconnection I experience when working with other humans. I simply don't see the point of having an AI "friend"—that would just feel like life under lockdown again.
Maybe AI can be a coach, a guide, a plugin. But it would never invite me over for fennel tea. I wouldn't have to ride my bike anywhere, clearing my head with fresh air in the process. It wouldn't invite me to sit on its soft couch and listen to obscure jazz records together for a whole night while exploring each other's relationship with our parents.
We can watch videos on production, take producer courses, and exchange deep insights on gear forums. Amidst these options to improve one's chops/skills, how do you keep things playful?
One way I like to keep things interesting is precisely through collaboration.
Remixing can be a form of playful collaboration, too. I love taking on remixes that seem challenging at first. But that might be exactly why remixing is so fun—it confronts me with a mixed variety of pressure, expectations, and the unknown.
And then, I have to work through all that resistance, meticulously peeling the new version out from under those layers. That keeps things pretty interesting.
AI is already capable of making something most people would recognise as music. I am curious, though, and will keep this question somewhat broad on purpose: What do you think that means?
Music resonates with me, or it doesn't. AI music can be very interesting, very intriguing, very entertaining. But it usually leaves me personally uninterested in hearing more.
Speaking for myself, I know why I make music. It's not a question of whether to make something myself or let AI do it for me. If it weren't for music, I'd be doing carpentry, sculpting, or painting ... Whatever I'd do, it would involve me having ideas, dismissing ideas, looking at options, testing limits, turning things around, figuring things out, completing something, or starting over. It's not a choice. I need to be creative, that's all. Music gives me a perfect outlet.
AI might capture its own audience—maybe one day, half of our audience will drift off to mainly like AI music. I might embrace using AI as a tool, but I'd still prefer to go through a process and create.
Creativity can reach many different corners of our lives. Do you personally feel as though producing a piece of music is inherently different from something like making a great cup of coffee? What do you express through music that you couldn't or wouldn't in more 'mundane' tasks?
It's very likely that someone passionate about making coffee could explain precisely why making coffee has a lot in common with making music.
Sound as a medium is unique in most of its qualities. I suppose we rarely see a considerably large crowd all drinking from the same cup of coffee while moving their bodies, pushing pure energy from one side of the room to the other to keep it going for the whole night until everyone goes home—sweaty, full or hungry, tired or recharged, maybe lonely, maybe with new friends.
Only music can do that.
The urge to get together in crowds, dance, connect, build identity, and build community is a very ancient foundation of what we all love about music. A live event with music can be compared to storytelling around a campfire, with drums playing a steady rhythm all night until everyone is connected to the ancestors.
I couldn't experience that as a barista, carpenter, or painter. Only music can do that.
