Published
Name: Benedikt Schmidt aka Snuffo
Occupation: Producer
Nationality: German
Recent release: Snuffo's new album Poetic Gaze is out now.
Things I am passionate about but rarely get to talk about: Books! Everyone should read more books! They make us smarter, stimulate our imagination and help us slow down.
If you enjoyed this Snuffo interview and would like to find out more about his music, visit him on Instagram, Facebook, bandcamp, and Soundcloud.
What were some of the musical experiences which planted a seed for your interest in electronic music?
When I was in kindergarten, one of the teachers owned Kraftwerk’s Die Mensch-Maschine album, and a few of the kids put on a costume performance to “Die Roboter” at the carnival. I only discovered many years later that my parents also owned the Autobahn album (although I doubt they ever actually listened to it).
In primary school, a classmate made me a cassette copy of U96’s “Das Boot”, and that was the first time I came across the term “techno.” Until I was 15, I mostly listened to cheesy Eurodance and other music from the charts.
When visiting my cousin Philipp, we used to watch shows like “House TV” and “VIVA Trance” on the music channel VIVA. They featured some really bizarre videos set to equally strange music, things like Coldcut’s “Timber,” Orbital’s “The Box,” Doppelgänger’s “Days Gone,” and The Future Sound of London’s “My Kingdom.”
Philipps older brother also had CDs like Best of Rotterdam Records Vol. 1 or Interactive - “Dildo”, which we found pretty funny.
Throughout the 90s, I spent a lot of Friday and Saturday nights listening to the radio. Unfortunately, I couldn't get HR3's Clubnight where I lived, so I had to make do with trance shows. I loved the way the music seemed to go on endlessly in those DJ mixes.
Then I discovered techno magazines like Frontpage and Raveline, which I bought and devoured. This, and Daft Punk’s masterpiece Homework and my first visits to record shops finally opened my eyes to the underground scene.
From then on, I started buying pretty much everything on vinyl: techno, house, drum and bass, big beat, experimental music, and so on. I also loved watching the TV broadcasts of Mayday and the Loveparade. And with Evosonic, there was suddenly a radio station playing exciting electronic music 24/7.
Most genres of music make use of electronic production means. What does the term “electronic music” mean today, would you say?
Electronic music has long since established itself as a widely accepted and commercially viable musical field, with countless genres and subgenres. The revolutionary spirit of house and techno has been gone for quite some time, too.
I think there was a time when people expected every decade since the 1950s to produce a new musical movement, along with an exciting youth culture to go with it. The new millennium proved us wrong. But that's okay. I don't mind revivals either. I'm old school myself, after all.
Whenever I hear the term “electronic music,” I still think of robots, science fiction and machines with flashing lights everywhere. What I do miss in a lot of today's electronic dance music productions, though, is that DIY spirit: the rough edges, the dirt, the unexpected moments and those charming imperfections.
I find a lot of tracks these days too polished, too meticulously produced, too similar-sounding and too much geared towards fitting in. They're pumped up like guys at the gym.
Disco, house, techno, drum n bass, IDM and many other genres were about a lot more than just music. For you personally, is electronic music (still) a way of life – and if so, in which way?
Yes and no.
Yes, because, to me, it's the most beautiful form of sonic expression. My enthusiasm for it is as strong as ever. I love making music in the studio: switching on the machines, programming beats and grooves, and so on. And I love it even more when I get to perform live in clubs. I still get incredibly excited about every new release of mine, about hearing feedback from DJs, and about having my music played in clubs or on the radio.
I still listen to a lot of electronic music, both new releases and online DJ sets. And certain classics, as well as the occasional new discovery, can still give me goosebumps. I also still feel strongly about putting exciting artists on my labels, even though both Snuff Trax and In The Dark Again will be coming to an end over the next two or three years.
No, because I see electronic music as just one part of my artistic practice and creative expression, alongside writing prose and poetry and creating video installations. In the past, I used to keep these disciplines separate. Today, I see myself as an interdisciplinary artist, even though I release and perform my music under pseudonyms.
Another factor is that going out clubbing and hanging out at after-hours parties have disappeared from my life. I've been alcohol-free for almost five years now, and I gave up illegal substances nine years ago. But it's hard to party through entire weekends when you're completely sober.
So these days, I hardly ever go to clubs unless I'm playing myself. When I do, though, I really enjoy the atmosphere and the people. The end of my party days has also had the upside of allowing me to devote myself more fully and with greater focus to literature, music and video art. That feels right.
Unlike in the past, I no longer listen exclusively to electronic music in my everyday life. I've also discovered a love for jazz, and I'm exploring new music with the same enthusiasm I used to have when I first discovered techno.
Debates around electronic music tend to focus on technology. What, though, were some of the things you learned by talking to colleagues or through performing and/or recording with other musicians? What role does community play for your interest in production and getting better as a producer?
None, really. It's more a handful of individuals I've been able to learn from, first and foremost, my dear friend and Snuff Crew comrade Stefan Gubatz.
Basically, I'm more of a loner, someone who prefers working on their own creative projects and pursuing their own path, no matter how rocky the road gets.
In general, I've never really considered myself part of a particular community, although I have a lot of appreciation for scenes and collectives such as the Killekill camp, the Staub parties in Berlin, the Intergalactic FM Festival in The Hague and Diskette Club in Palma.
What are examples for artists, performances, and releases that really inspired you recently and possibly gave you the feeling of having experienced something fresh and new?
Some releases I've been really enjoying lately include:
Jimi Tenor – Rocking Downtown (Bureau B)
Pulsinger & Irl – AALLIIAASS
Sun Ra – Ra To The Rescue (Modern Harmonic)
Jeff Mills – The Trip To Vega (Axis)
Various Artists – Hans Nieswandt Edits (Pudel Produkte)
Michael Heinkel – "Alles auf Start" (Elaste)
[Read our Jimi Tenor interview]
[Read our Jeff Mills interview]
[Read our Hans Nieswandt interview]
There are also a few jazz and experimental albums that I can't think of right now, as I'm currently travelling. I also love everything from Hieroglyphic Being and Conrad Schnitzler. As far as labels go, Fast Speaking Music is a big source of inspiration for me at the moment. I also love spoken word albums.
I'm equally inspired by the experimental concerts and performances at Morphine Raum in Berlin. And one performance that absolutely blew me away when I was in New York this year was TRIO MANIFESTO at John Zorn's “The Stone” event.
I also always take something away from listening to radio shows that offer an exciting musical diversity, especially The Watt From Pedro Show.
Where do most of your inspirations to create come from – rather from internal impulses or external ones? Which current social / political / ecological or other developments make you feel like you need to respond as an artist?
My art is primarily driven by an inner urge. When things fall into place, there's this divine spark that sets an idea in motion and carries me towards turning it into a finished work. It's an incredible feeling every single time. Almost like being in a trance.
Especially after days of trying things out without getting anywhere, feeling dissatisfied, and constantly discarding ideas. And then, suddenly, that moment arrives and amazing things start to happen. Of course, everything I experience, read, hear / listen to and see / watch, as well as my emotional state, influences me, both consciously and unconsciously.
And naturally, real art, and techno, too, is always political. I consider myself an antifascist, and that conviction somehow finds its way into everything I do. It's probably more apparent in my poetry and prose than in my music, though. At a time when fascism is gaining ground again, and dangerous figures like Trump, Putin, Musk and Thiel are seeking to dominate the world, while racists are once again making themselves heard, both online and offline, I believe it would be wrong to remain silent.
In my experience, the people who keep shouting that “techno is apolitical” invariably come from the right-wing or far-right corner anyway. They haven't understood anything about techno or counterculture. That's something we have to push back against. Naturally, this also informs my mindset when I'm making music.
Tell me a bit about the sounds & creative directions, artists & communities, as well as the colleagues & creative hotspots of your current hometown, please. How do they influence your music?
There's not really much to tell. I've been living a very secluded life in the village of Santanyí, on the island of Mallorca, Spain, for the past seven years, and I really enjoy it.
Although I love Berlin and its rich cultural scene, and visit regularly, getting away from it all and having a place entirely to myself has done me and my art a lot of good.
Today, electronic music has an interesting relationship between honouring its roots and exploring the unknown. What does the balance between these two poles look like in your music?
With my Snuff Crew project, that's easier to answer. Without the Chicago house music of the 80s and 90s, Snuff Crew simply wouldn't exist! I can't express enough gratitude to all the Chicago originators for their influence, which has helped me (or rather, us) create our own definition of the sound.
With my solo project Snuffo, things are a little less straightforward. Of course, I'm influenced by techno, house, electro and experimental music from the 90s. As I mentioned before, I'm old school.
At the same time, I've always tried to develop a sound of my own, one that doesn't commit to any particular style and doesn't follow trends or cater to the market. You can hear that very clearly on my new album Poetic Gaze and its predecessor, Embrace The Arts. I'm truly happy that I've managed to carve out a niche of my own.
What were some of the recent tools you bought, used, or saw/read about which changed your perspective about production, performing, and making music?
Unfortunately, I don't really have the money at the moment to invest in any major pieces of gear. But I'm hoping to play a few more gigs soon so I can upgrade my studio.
I'm really intrigued by all the buzz around the open-source firmware for the M-Wave FM-1. I could easily imagine getting several units and loading each one with a different firmware. That could also be a real asset for live performances.
I'm also having a lot of fun with the experimental delay plugin XEN-FM-Lab, which my buddies Nerk and Dr. Walker gave me access to for testing. And then there's the awesome KA-303 plugin, which I unexpectedly received from Kreuzberg Audio.
[Read our Nerk & Kirn interview]
How do you see the role of sampling in electronic music today?
It's still a wonderful tool, a massive weapon and an important part of our techno and house culture.
In as far as it is applicable to your work, how would you describe the interaction between your music and DJing/DJ culture and clubs?
DJs are still very important to me. Most of my tracks are made for dancing, after all, and I want them to be played in clubs. When I'm producing an album, however, my priority is how it works as a complete listening experience, rather than whether it contains enough club tracks.
Since I now record most of my tracks live in the studio, rather than arranging them in a DAW, I no longer really think about whether their structure is DJ-friendly during the production process. But as I mentioned before, I'm still genuinely excited when DJs appreciate my music and include it in their sets.
That said, I sometimes feel that we tend to overlook the fact that DJ sets would be silent without the music created by producers (unless, of course, they rely on AI-generated tracks). DJs often receive substantial fees and a lot of recognition, while very few people seem to be buying music from the producers behind those sets anymore. I'd like to see a little more fairness and recognition for the people who actually create the music (Kudos to DVS1 for trying to make a difference with his Aslice platform).
And I don't just mean producers, but also live acts, many of whom struggle to get booked regularly because DJs can play longer sets and may attract larger audiences. I feel there needs to be a better balance between these different roles within our scene.
How, would you say are your live performances and your recording projects connected at the moment? How do they mutually influence and feed off each other?
In the studio and on stage, I'm unleashing pretty much the same raw energy today. Both are live and immediate experiences. Whether I'm recording or performing a live set, I'm completely in the zone, deeply immersed in the music and oblivious to the world around me.
Since I started recording live in the studio as well, I feel that my tracks have become even more organic, alive and immediate. I really love that. It almost feels like action painting or sculpting.
Even if AI will not entirely replace human composition, it looks set to have a significant impact on it. What does the terms composing/producing mean in the era of AI, do you feel?
AI is both a blessing and a curse. I do use it for certain things myself. But as an artist, the very thought of how much it is devaluing genuine art makes me sick. It's going to become even harder to make a living from human-made music because of it. The free-content mentality that music streaming has already done so much to promote will go even further.
For the masses, music will become entirely interchangeable, anonymous commodity: a soulless product flooding the market. Whether the songs blaring out of smartphones and boomboxes, or being used in films and advertising, are AI-generated won't matter to anyone anymore. As long as they sound good, entertain, and are instantly accessible, that's all that counts.
Nevertheless, I firmly believe that human art won't disappear. There will always be people who appreciate music made by real human beings. I also hope that consumers will eventually become tired of AI-generated music and, sooner or later, rediscover the value of the human factor, the heart and soul an artist puts into their work.
One possible response might be to start offering our own work on a limited number of platforms, leave Spotify, and limit the number of copies available for purchase while charging higher prices. A bit like limited-edition art prints, for example. Perhaps this could work once people reach a certain level of AI fatigue and saturation.
And if AI becomes too dangerous for us, perhaps we'd be better off pulling the plug on it.
