Where do you come from?
I was born in Grenoble in 1979. My father was a sociology teacher and my mother a communications teacher.
So, there’s no connection with music?
No. I lost my father very early on, but I inherited a guitar, and my mother played the piano as an amateur. There was a piano at home and we had a vinyl turntable.
What were your LPs?
My parents used to listen to Here comes the Sun by the Beatles on the turntable. That’s pretty much the first memory I have of music. I used to play that record repeatedly. I must have been three or four years old. And my mother sang in the choir. In fact, she still does.
Did you ever play an instrument?
I played the saxophone for two or three years as a kid. Then I quickly took up the guitar, self-taught. In fact, I’m still self-taught. When I was a teenager, I started a band and my relationship with music just grew and grew.
What did you like at the time, metal, rock?
I’m from the 90s generation. So, Nirvana, Guns N’Roses and Slash’s solos that I’m trying to redo. But also Led Zeppelin, AC/DC, Eric Clapton, The Cure… It was also the advent of trip hop and techno with Daft Punk’s album Homework. And I suddenly realized that you could make sound with a computer, create a studio entirely at home and that the possibilities were limitless, which was not at all the case before. That’s what made me take the plunge in the early 2000s.
Is it true that you were destined for a career as a basketball player and then had an accident at a Body Count concert?
I wanted to be a sportsman; it was a very strong desire. I played at a good level, but I could never have made it to the NBA, which was my dream. I herniated a disc quite early on in high school. But during a Body Count concert, there was a lot of banging and slamming and a guy fell on me from behind. It was like ‘Crack’, and a week later I was completely stuck. Then I dragged it out for several years and I still have the after-effects. It’s not operable, I’m a bit fragile, but I’m not handicapped in any way. And I’m very sporty now.
What are you doing after your A-levels?
I’m studying sociology, following in my father’s footsteps, and I’m stopping my degree to devote myself to music. I’m not ready, but I’m convinced that my life has to be music and that you have to suffer and go through some difficult stages to succeed. Obviously, everyone around me advises me to continue my studies and do music on the side. But I firmly believe that you must go for it, learn, progress, find your identity, meet people. And get yourself into a bit of trouble, too. I’ve got a DEUG in social studies and a DEUG in psychology, but I don’t really have a parachute.
Are you still playing guitar or are you already into electro music?
I’m still into guitar, but I’m a lousy guitarist. At the time, I was making demos and getting labels to listen to things they couldn’t hear. I’d turn up with my CD-Rs burnt and no one would be interested. And then I worked on the side, doing odd jobs.
Do you live in Paris?
In the 18ᵉ. I tend to make soft music, a bit soothing, like Pink Floyd, Air, trip hop. I dabble, I tinker.
Do you already have any machines?
Every Christmas, I try to buy something new. When I started out, I mainly had a computer with a sound card. I’ve got small speakers, Yamaha NS 10s and a master keyboard, which lets me control the sounds. And my guitar! I was also taking Indian sitar lessons at the time.
What do you do for a living?
I work as a salesman in Pigalle, in a synth shop called Piano Show. I also gave music lessons, and then I started doing small concerts with my punk-electro band, Plan Nine from outer Space, the title of a bad Ed Wood film. During a concert at the Réservoir in Paris, an artist called Zad came up to me and introduced me to his manager, Ali, who looks after the group Saïan Supa Crew. That was the trigger. So, in 2005, I produced Zad’s album. A year later, I signed my first album, distributed by Pias, with my first concert and my first collaborations. I started working, producing, arranging, remixing, making instrumentals… I set up my own little label, a small structure, an association and a small techno shift took place. So, I started accumulating equipment: old analogue synths, drum machines, processing peripherals, amplifiers, compressors, slightly better speakers, ATCs, then Genelec. I tinker with them myself and learn from the people I meet. When I work for artists, I end up in big studios, working with well-known sound engineers.
Do you know that you’re on the right track?
I never question my choice, but I have doubts and questions every day, every second even. My first album was not well received by the press. I started to lay the foundations and then it built up over time. But in the early 2000s, I already had this dream of setting off to sea, with my machines, a computer and my instruments. It’s a kind of dream to say to myself that I’m going to make music on a boat, to go towards that horizon.
Where does this dream come from?
From a desire that wasn’t at all conscious or intellectualized. At the time, I loved sailing, being at sea. After my first few albums, I started talking to my manager about this desire. And then there was a turning point in 2011. I no longer had a manager; I stopped touring with the band I’d set up to play my albums live and I set about putting this project together. I’ve also just become a father. And I’m leaving in 2013…
Was the decision to leave also a way of testing yourself physically, of creating while suffering?
I wouldn’t use the word suffering; I have more of a romantic vision of the artist who creates in difficulty. Basically, it’s this instinctive desire to create in the middle of the ocean. But I realize that it’s hard to spend five weeks on a boat.
Where were you?
It was a fishing boat leaving from Saint-Malo. But during a fishing campaign, you know when you’re leaving, but you don’t know when you’re coming back. It was a big boat, with 50 sailors on board, and I recreated a studio in a small cabin, with all my instruments.
Were those five weeks at sea a revelation?
It’s like something clicked, I’m where I need to be. And I tell myself that from now on, everything will be like that! I was scared, I cried and now I’m back with an album, 62 et 43 Nord, after those five weeks fishing for sounds. I’m defending it on stage, and I’m also coming back with some images, because when we were away, we’d managed to finance it so we could do a Thalassa. So, I’m bringing out a book, a sort of travel diary with lots of photos and the record inside.
Did the public follow?
Thalassa made a big impact. The book was a hit, and we did our first concert at the Gaîté Lyrique in 360, for a digital art festival. It was a turning point in my career, everything started to fall into place at that point. And then I did the Transmusicales in Rennes, I signed with Pedro Winter and the media took an interest in me. Suddenly, I was on the move, going to Greenland, Nazaré, Portugal, Quebec…
I heard that you wanted to record silence.
I wanted to work on silence when I got back from my boat trip, a very intense experience in terms of volume for my tired ears. I was reading a book by John Cage about silence, and I thought I’d like to go out into the cold, to Greenland in the middle of winter, with my microphones and all my synths. I’d been at sea for 34 days and I went to Greenland for five weeks. I rented a small hunter’s cottage in an Inuit village. I had five weeks to create an album entirely on the spot, with recordings of silence. It’s a bit mystical, but even when there’s nothing there, you can still hear, a very muffled, very high-pitched frequency.
Did you put contact microphones in the material, in the ice floe, to ‘hear’ this ice floe?
Yes, and you can hear all kinds of sounds. I had a bit more specialized equipment, because I started working with the Sennheiser brand of microphones and one of their sound engineers. I’m also getting into binaural recording, with these little microphones that record what the ears hear. So, I recorded Le silence de la banquise and composed the album on location.
Has it been well received?
I’ve had great promotion, I’ve been on TV, I’ve done some great concerts, I’ve toured for two years just about everywhere, in Texas, Japan, Moscow, Mexico…
Is there an ecological approach to what you’re doing?
It’s not a militant project; I’m not going to Greenland to talk about global warming. I have my political convictions, but I keep them to myself. But these projects are about awareness and respect. As for me, through these projects I’m trying to reconnect, to re-establish a link I’ve lost with nature and the elements.
Is that why you moved to Brittany?
I lived in Paris for twenty years and I wanted something different, to get closer to the sea, which is something I can’t live without. I had the opportunity to do so, so we left with my family.
After Greenland, there’s the giant wave project in Nazaré, Portugal?
It’s a slightly different project because I didn’t write the whole album on the wave at Nazaré, because of the noise of the jet ski engine. It’s a collective project with a real collaboration with surfers. With Sennheiser, we worked for hours on prototypes beforehand and put microphones, binaural, in the surfers’ ears, on the boards, on a drone…. It’s a pretty fun project where I had the fright of my life. And I made the album in the process, in Biarritz, in front of the sea.
What are your latest projects?
In 2021, I did something in Tévennec, in a haunted lighthouse at the end of the Pointe-du-Raz. I also worked on the Vendée Globe, where I put sixteen microphones on a boat and thirteen cameras, with a film about to be released. And I made my last album in Jamaica. I wanted to do a studio album, to get a bit of warmth and energy, before getting back to solo work.
What is the concept behind RE-201, the album you recorded in Jamaica?
It’s a parenthesis in my adventures, not a turning point. I wanted to pay tribute to sound wizards like Lee Scratch Perry and King Tuby. When I record the silence in Greenland and I manipulate the sound to create the sonic carpet of a composition, I use what the masters and wizards of Jamaican dub have put in place. I use sound as a material that can be sculpted, that is malleable. In Jamaica, I worked with the singers who rocked my teenage years. And I realized that it wasn’t necessarily any easier than being on a boat in the middle of a storm.
There are several collaborations on the album.
There’s a track with Étienne de Crécy, another with Hubert Boombasss (co-founder of Cassius, NDR) and lastly a track with Falcon, legendary artists of the French Touch. I really wanted to mix these two influences, reggae and French Touch. We worked with Alex Gopher, and then I mixed the album with Julien Delfaud.
You’re also resident DJ at Rex Club.
Yes, I do two sets a year. My last date was last April. I did an All Night Long and mixed from midnight to 6am. My next date will be in the autumn.
We haven’t talked about your project with an artificial intelligence, in 2022.
I was introduced to a new technology that basically allows you to send orders by looking at people. I used it to create an instrument, J.I.L., which can be played solely by looking at you, and whose sound is modulated in real time by your brain activity. It’s an instrument that sends out sound all the time. There are no notes, it’s a constant vibration, which is different for each user, and which is very sensitive to mood.
Among your adventures in somewhat hostile environments, there’s always the project of diving into the abyss, the Mariana Trench in the Philippines, at a depth of 11,000 meters?
Absolutely, I’m working on it. But I’ve got into the habit of never talking about my projects because they’re long and tedious to put in place, and often depend on numerous authorizations and funding…
You played your first Olympia last February. What was that like?
It was magical! I’m proud to have been able to enjoy the moment. It’s a venue that gives you incredible energy, it was beautiful and powerful. On this tour, I’ll be doing virtually nothing but the latest album, with a few nods to my past adventures. I’ve still got dates in June in Sète, then I’ll be at Les Vieilles Charrues, Le Cabaret Vert… There are about fifteen dates to come.
Why the name Molécule?
I wanted a name that expressed the essence of things, the universality. It was soft, round, phonetically speaking. It was at a time when I was making quite soft music, like little lullabies. And now, with the somewhat techno-technological side of my projects and the techniques I use, it also fits in with my research side.
Can we talk about equipment?
I started out with a pair of NS 10s for the studio and at home I had a little Aïwa system. When I was young, I was very into Walkmans, I had a little Sony Walkman. In fact, I’d like to buy another one and you can find some on Le Bon Coin. I bought a second-hand cassette player, with a nice VU meter, and I’ve brought out all my old cassettes. I have a Denon system, with a Technics MK2 turntable. For a long time, I had a Tivoli Audio, which is nice, but I don’t think it’s great in terms of sound quality. And now in my studio, I have ATC SMC 20s as well as my NS 10s and Genelecs, with four speakers for spatialized sound. At home, I have a Focal speaker system and a small subwoofer in the corner. The next step is to buy some old JBLs for my living room.
You listen to audio cassettes, but do you still listen to vinyl?
Of course I do! I’m not really into current affairs. I listen to my collection of Pink Floyd, Rolling Stones, a lot of classical music, ambient, reggae… I must have 400 records. But I don’t necessarily listen to electro or the music I make. When I stream, I’m on Apple, and I listen to music absolutely every day.
Latest album: RE-201 (Mille feuilles)
