Introducing: ASTASU

AL: You’ve said composing has always been a kind of instinct for you, almost a compulsion. When did you first realize music wasn’t just something you enjoyed, but something you needed to make?

A: I'm not sure how old I was, most likely in the single digits. I grew up in a house that was always a work in progress. Upstairs was a bit of a building site most of the time. Me and my brother would find planks of wood lying around, draw strings on them in Biro and pretend they were guitars. We'd record daft songs on an old tape recorder with our next door neighbour and generally make loads of noise. My Dad also had a big sound system, Pioneer separates with a pair of chunky Sony floorstanders. My Mum hated it. He'd play prog and hard rock tapes and I'd just sit in front of it in my own little world... I think I caught the bug from all that. It was ace!   

AL: Golden Axe on a cheap Yamaha synth isn’t the usual origin story. What was it about those early game soundtracks that lit the spark?

A: There were a few games back then that really had an impact on my imagination. Sounds from games like the aforementioned Golden Axe, Lemmings, Tyrian and Syndicate sent my head to different places, and made the visuals seem all the more real. Sometimes I'd be terrified of a sound in spite of the visual content of a game! The fear stuck with me and opened up avenues of its own. It just wouldn't have been the same without the soundtracks. I suppose early games like these, especially the sound design, also kindled a love for science fiction and fantasy later down the line.

AL: You grew up with both dance music and extreme metal in your world. How do those two seemingly opposite energies coexist in you as a musician today?

A: I like to think of dance music as being connected in a fundamental sense to our tribal roots. Techno, Trance, House... repetitive thumping rhythms do something to us, and sometimes make us forget we're conditioned, caged animals! There's a kind of similarity with metal. I've never felt the kind of kinship like I do at metal shows. There's a bit of tribal nature in that too, I suppose. A release and an understanding that's hard to beat. You'll be pushing and barging people around one minute and have your arm around them the next.. I wouldn't necessarily say they're opposite energies, at least not to my mind. One just seems a bit more aggressive than the other! That said, I'd be reluctant to put them together musically.

AL: Guitar is still something you play often, do you feel it influences the way you write electronic and ambient material, even when no guitar ends up in the final piece?

A: No. Conversely I'd say the electronic and ambient material can very much influence the way I write a guitar part. Sometimes when I'm listening to something I've put together, I'll almost hear what I think should go in there before I pick up a guitar and start playing. Most of the time if there's no guitar in there when the track is done, it's because I didn't hear it first... if that makes any sense! I think the main thing that influences how I write electronic or ambient stuff is whether or not I'm having fun with the sounds I'm making. That's such an important thing for me. It starts with messing around and enjoying yourself!

AL: ASTASU emerged when you loosened the grip on structure, moving away from the safety of 4/4 and into something more atmospheric. What did you discover about yourself when you stepped into those more open, textural spaces?

A: I think I rediscovered the love of the craft. As much as I love a beat, I found it restrictive. It became a kind of shackles! I find it more difficult these days to produce dance music, although there have been some tracks of that ilk on the last 2 albums. I'd actually like to get back into it at some point, and I think to do that I might need a new approach. We'll see how that goes. I suppose what I discovered about myself, at least where electronic music is concerned, is that I prefer letting my feelings do the talking rather than making something that sounds filthy for filth's sake. I also feel like a track that stirs an emotional response might linger more in the mind than a dirty banger... not to say there's anything wrong with dirty bangers!

AL: Do you think of ASTASU as a persona, a project, or an extension of who you already are? Does it let you say things you can’t say in other parts of your life?

A: I think of it as a project... I'm really not fond of identifying too much with it. That is to say, I am not ASTASU, ASTASU is just something I'm doing for the time being. It stands for All States Transient, All Structures Unstable, which is a testament to the impermanence of everything. I think it does let me express some things that I wouldn't normally try to say with words. Language is limited, and music is a good way to fill in the blanks.

AL: You describe Stasis Peak as being more emotionally tied to you than either your debut or Contempt For Death. What shifted, internally or artistically, that made this record more personal?

A: Without wanting to trigger any morbid sentiment, I began to spend time with the knowledge that bereavement and grief are part of life, that as we age life becomes measurably more difficult, and it's entirely up to the individual to find ways to navigate it, as hard as that seems. I spent a lot of time thinking about how our reactions and outlooks shape our experiences, and if reactions and outlooks can be managed constructively then our experience of life can be more positive, and untainted by external factors. I'd say that was a shift in mental patterns that I felt the need to communicate somehow... though I'm not sure if I managed it.

AL: The album deals with loss, grief, loneliness, but also with hope and stillness, almost like opposite poles of the same emotional landscape. How did you navigate those extremes in the writing process?

A: The writing process for this album was almost like going to see an old friend and returning every so often for a catch-up. Or sometimes like checking in with a therapist! You'd talk about the good and the bad, and sometimes the difficult. It's cathartic either way. It wasn't protracted in the way that a band will sometimes spend a month in a recording studio to hammer out a record. There was a long time where I just couldn't seem to channel anything at all. I think if it was a more intensive process, the ups and downs would become exhausting before long. As composing is very much a labor of love for me, I'd revisit when I had the urge, or when it felt like I had something on my chest. I tried not to burn myself out, and, as there was no real deadline, I found I could treat each track like a sort of study into whatever I was feeling at the time.

AL: You’ve mentioned the idea of a “stasis peak”, a place where frozen memories live quietly but powerfully. Was there a particular memory or moment that first defined that concept for you?

A: At present I'm not entirely comfortable elaborating on it other than to say it was a death in the family. There's still grief, and will be for a long time. Some of the tracks on this album were already there by this point, and afterward there was a period of a kind of 'composer's block'. I gradually settled into getting it finished, but with a new sense of dedication.

AL: Some memories we honour from afar, as you put it. How does distance, emotional or literal, shape the way you write music?

A: I'm away from where I feel I belong, and I guess that lends a yearning to the sound. It's the longing that spurs me. It's as if I feel like I have to say something but can't do it without a piano with loads of reverb! I do get a little tired of the emotional approach sometimes and try to focus on more detached themes. It gets me in front of the computer at least, even if I sometimes dislike what emerges.

AL: A significant part of making this record involved being alone with your thoughts. What surprised you most about what came up in that solitude?

A: On a positive note, I found a focus that taught me to be patient and break things down, and not to let things slide when there's a chance to make them so much better. I was brutally honest with myself about something that was bugging me. I was about to put a tune on the album that I wasn't happy with and I had to just say it. Metropolis sounded a lot different before I told myself: “This track is piss-weak”. That honesty, in itself, surprised me. I wasn't just being my own worst critic for no reason. So I spent a few days gutting it and sorting it out. It was difficult but I was so happy with the result. James, who mastered the album, gave me really positive feedback on it, which was amazing to hear, and cemented the realisation that “It is what it is” just doesn't cut it sometimes. 

AL: Did the album change shape during those years, or did it always feel like it was pulling you toward this final form?

A: It did change shape a little. I didn't see any orchestral elements at first, and definitely didn't see myself making a track like A Grief Observed. Before starting on it, I initially thought to bring more energy, and toyed with the idea of having more tracks like Terminal_9 from CFD or Path_18 from the self titled album to make it a more rhythmic, darker offering... but I eventually settled on a more meditative approach in the end, for the most part. Perhaps the next album might field more rhythm... we'll see.

AL: There’s a sense of catharsis implied in your note, 'I’m not the same person I was when I started it.' What did finishing Stasis Peak teach you about yourself?

A: That I'm getting better at this, slowly slowly. My attitude has changed positively, and I've let go of a lot of baggage. The quality of my music has shifted for the better over the years, and I've learned that it doesn't matter if it blows up or not, as long as I'm doing what I love to do. On the other hand, it's taught me that I can be lazy, but while my reluctance can be to the detriment of my mental state, I just can't force creativity. It's a balance.  

AL: How do you know when a piece in such a deeply emotional project is “done”? Is it instinct, exhaustion, clarity, or something else?

A: Good question! Sometimes it's exhaustion, sometimes instinct. A lot of the time I think it's done when I strongly believe I cannot add anything more to it that would improve it in any way or add to the narrative, and have probably tried several things by that point. Any embellishment, however much I feel compelled to add it, would be superficial or shallow and serve no real purpose. Sometimes a track is so simple to look at, you'd think it was bare-bones, yet-to-be fleshed out. But it might be that the content is, to me at least, lean, efficient and straight to the point.

AL: When listeners step into Stasis Peak, what do you hope they feel, if anything at all?

A: It would be amazing to me if any listener were to find the same enjoyment from listening to this that I did when I was putting it together. If it helps anyone in dealing with their emotions, amazing. If it brings people together, amazing. But if not, that's okay! Ultimately I make the music I want to make, and if anyone else likes it, that's a huge bonus.

AL: You’ve worked with both virtual and physical synths. Was there a particular instrument or technique that became central to the sound of Stasis Peak?

A: As far as techniques go, I've never recorded so many parts live before, off the cuff, and often improvising... It's so much more organic. I used to arrange most parts in MIDI, which is fine a lot of the time but I found it much easier in this case to just press record and play. This has also served to teach me a little how to play the piano... I'm not very good at all, but it's a start! The orchestral sound banks are also a lot of fun to use and they sound amazing, and I think that turned out to be a central feature. Very glad I found a way to bring that kind of emotional power to the music.

AL: When working with ambient and textural music, the line between composition and sound design can blur. Do you treat them as separate roles or a single process?

A: I want to say both, because it depends on the context. If I'm working on something which I think might sound like a score, or an incidental piece, I think sound design might blend with the composition, and it can very well become a single process. If it strikes me as more of a stand-alone song, then there's more often than not a separation there, unless I want the song to tell a story in an obvious way.

AL: Do you ever think about rhythm differently after moving away from traditional beats, does absence become a kind of percussive choice?

A: I definitely think differently about it. I think rhythm can be found in places other than drum samples and kits. It can be implied, in a way, in its absence. The stages of a song can be treated like an organic rhythm of sorts. Before I came up with ASTASU I nearly always started a track with a beat and worked from there. Now I often start with a melody, and later on I'll think, “how can I give this thing a pulse, a heartbeat, without resorting to kickdrums and snares?”  It's a challenge sometimes, but I can get a bit dogged about it.

AL: After the emotional weight of this album, do you feel you’re closing a chapter, or opening a new one?

A: I suppose I'm closing a chapter in a sense. I definitely think there will still be time for emotional or otherwise stirring music under this name. As I've mentioned, the memories are there in stasis, and sometimes I'll find that I think differently about events of the past after revisiting them. The next album will explore different avenues, I reckon, while still having a touch of nostalgia.

AL: What’s something you want listeners to know about ASTASU that they might not understand just from hearing the music?

A: I mentioned before that it's all about having fun with the sounds you're making. These songs exist because I was messing around at the time, and liked what I heard or how it felt to play it. The feelings might exist at the same time under the surface, or come alive later. My music seldom starts with a conscious plan. The songs I'm most proud of are the ones that have taken the least time to finish. I suppose that's a brief insight into my process! Enjoy.