āIf youāre gonna ask what my central ethos for everything I do is, itās that: build a community, build a scene, get people involved and break down that barrier. You “can” do it.ā
Tom Baker
Tom Baker is a London-based electronic musician, producer, bandleader, and curator, currently making music under the moniker Sylvia_Din. Tom describes his work as “distorted, claustrophobic electronic music for a generation that feels out of step”, combining dirty synthesizers and field recordings with a unique collaborative process; his second record Inertia, featuring collaborations with Broken Sleep Books and Human Head, releases later this year. Tom also curates art zine Our Restless Bones, featuring transdisciplinary works from artists, musicians, and writers. Tom spoke to PRXLUDES about the conception of the Sylvia_Din moniker, compositional stimuli, his DIY ethos and approach to music-making, and the cultural scene…
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Zyggy/PRXLUDES: Hi Tom! Hope youāve been keeping well. Letās talk about your moniker, Sylvia_Din. I understand youāve come into music from a quite unconventional background; how did you build up this project?
Tom Baker: So me and my mate used to have a shitty copy of Ableton with some VSTs. -laughs- We got this when we were in secondary school. There were around three of us doing it at the same time; it was a really cool community, in the sense of every time we would learn something, we would [share it]. I remember at one point, I found out that you could download virtual instruments and plug them into your DAW, and I was like āguys, this is gonna blow your fucking mindā¦ā -laughs-
Me and my friend used to write house and techno under the duo Blurry Words. We did that throughout college and secondary school, and that was just our āfunā bit of DJāing shitty college parties, playing some Skrillexā¦ Big up to the main man Skrill. -laughs- When people look back on what electronic music they grew up in ā you speak to people who grew up in Manchester, during the Madchester movement ā I got to see Skrillex at Brixton Academy when I was seventeen, and that would be my contribution to the story. -laughs- Then [I] went to uni. [I was] still kind of writing music, butā¦ You can have ideas, but unless you give them a space, a place, and an actual concept, they donāt really have any life to them; theyāre just sounds that are grouped together.
I completely understand ā I think everyone has to have that phase, though. And I guess you went through it pretty independently?
I basically spent my three years [of] uni trying to write music, and all of it sounded āgoodā, but I wasnāt proud of it. It just existed, and didnāt have a purpose. This sounds really dumb, but I always wanted to create music that people liked ā I wanted people to like my music ā so I was writing bouncy house numbers, and plucky guitar lines. I listened to so much Tycho. I discovered you could put a reverb on a guitar and it sounds beautiful. That was under a couple of aliases, but it really wasnāt landing for me.
So I moved to London from a small town up north ā in Lancaster ā and I got hella inspired. I was basically out every night, just enjoying London; doing whatever gigs I could find. I had a couple friends down here I could do stuff with. And over that time, I started writing far darker, more nocturnal stuff. I really got inspired by more subby UK bass genres, and what was emerging from that, as well as trip hop [and] techno. And I was like āoh shit, thatās way too much for my projectā ā so I created an entirely separate project that I [could] dump stuff in, and not touch anything else. And that was what became Sylvia_Din. I wanted it to not be attached to my name, not be attached to me at all, [but] I realised that this is the far better project, and Iām far more invested in it. And more importantly: fuck if people like it! Iāll write this for me, and if other people get enjoyment out of that, then good for them.
Do you feel like there was any particular moment with Sylvia_Din that catalysed the project as your āmainā musical outlet?
Real talk ā it was sad hours. My job, at the time, was not going well. Iād just moved to London, and I was super excited, and eight months into my job, my boss was actively nasty, but I didnāt wanna give it up. The relationship I was in at the time was falling apartā¦ And I just poured it into the music. Going back to my original [projects], my music [for those] didnāt have a purpose ā whereas at this point, I had something to drive it. And as soon as I saw that spark, I was like āthis is it, this is the projectā. I doubled down on that, and that was the spark that lit it. Ride or die, letās go. -laughs-
And if I remember, you released an album around that time ā A Vivid Study of Human Violence ā was the process of that recordās composition also informed by your personal experience?
Yeah, yeah! It was so long ago I actually released that as an EP, in 2019ā¦ Realising that I needed to experiment, and just try things. It was a really good moment of āfuck itā, if that makes sense. I had synths, I had my in-board gear, and I was like: what happens if we do this? Lots of times, it sounded like dogshit, but sometimes it played out ā and thatās the thing that what was keeping me going.
I was out and about [a lot]. When youāre out there, and youāre absorbing the world, you get lots of in, and then that allows you to put that into an out. When I was working in Aldgate East, and I was living in Mile End, I used to walk through the Bow/Whitechapel kind of area. It changes quite a lot; in like one road, thereās a lot of different scenes. I think walking that every day ā especially in winter, when itās quite dark ā you get a lot of in, and sensory input, that when I got home I was like āokay, I know what scene I want to set with my music.ā
One thing that stood out to me with this record was the use of found objects in industrial music ā like, if you closed your eyes and put this record on, I could definitely imagine walking down that road in Whitechapel. Whatās your approach to the manipulation of samples, vocals, and found objects in your work?
When it comes to found sound, using your phone and [recording] standing next to something, and being like āIām gonna have thatā ā when you drop bottles in a bottle bin, all of that ā I mean, my friends laugh at me because I overuse the word ātextureāā¦ -laughs- But when you do lots of things that are āin the boxā ā when you use synths that are built into Ableton, or even outboard synths ā because theyāre digital, not analogue, theyāve got a level of cleanliness to them. I like to counterbalance that with something thatās a little bit dirty, and raw. For me, thatās [going] out, recording things ā or even if I donāt record them myself, I hear a sound and be like āright, thatās the kind of thing that I want.ā Blessed be freesound.orgā¦ Fuck people going to Splice, go to Freesound! -laughs-
My favourite one was: my flat in Mile End was next to a main road, and down the road was a big hospital ā I think itās the Royal London ā so I always get, like, sirens going past. When I was writing āClaustrophobiaā, and I heard a car siren go past, I was like āthat actually sounds kind of sickā. So I went on Freesound, got a siren, and then actually [added] itā¦ -laughs- I find that also, my final [step] with the mix is, go and listen to the song when youāre walking around, and see if natural things from the world can fit into it. I like natural rhythms, and stuff; even now, thereās a guy hammering outside, which is cool.
I get that. If youāre in a city as dynamic as London, the sounds of the city are naturally going to feed into your compositional process.
Yeah. And I think thatās the thing that was hard about covid. I wanted it to be a super productive time in my life; I was like āIāve got nothing else to do, I should be able to write musicā, and I really wasnāt able to. I put it down to [that] there was nothing going in ā I was in my flat, all the time ā and there was nothing to inspire, or feed the content in.
You still released a few tracks over the course of covid ā how did you approach writing without the stimulus thatās usually part of your compositional process?
I found for me, it was [like] challenges; seeing if I could write certain things with certain limitations, because then it gave the songs a point. āCRWLNDā was written with my housemates at the time, with loads of contact mics and stuff from around the flat. So I had a basic little synth riff that you would hear throughout, that slowly changes as the track goes on ā but all the percussion you hear is stuff from our flat. I thought it would be a fun afternoon if we all got together, found stuff, and recorded it. That was my little challenge to the house and myself, [to] see if I could record a track where all the percussion is contact mics ā or contact micāed up things.
You can create a stimulus out of the collaborative process, right?
Yeah. The stimulus is almost the lack of stimulus. Youāve gotta kind of trick your brain into that.
Coming out of lockdown, you released another single titled āNo Savioursā; on the subject of stimulus, was that track indicative of your post-covid process and the external stimuli returning?
I had this track for a while. It was in a really loose form ā I had this sample with loads of filters, and reverb, [which] ended up sounding like a choir; and I was like ā[this] is cool, but Iām not sure what to do with it.ā I had all the composite elements, but not the whole thing. And then me and my friend went for a weekend in Berlinā¦ -laughs- Itās very generic, and Iām not gonna pretend that itās not; but coming back from that, I was like āI know it! I understand where it exists in the world!ā I need to think of [tracks] as having a place, and a scene, before I can really go into it, and that gave me the inspiration to finish it off, get it mixed, get it mastered, and get it released. I had a lot of fun in Berlin; thereās a lot of really good record stores, really good clubsā¦ We went to a really cool record store ā Staalplaat ā and we walked in, and the guyās playing one of the noisier clipping. tracks, and I loved that. Loads of hand-numbered cassettes, and books about places and spaceā¦ This is as good as life is gonna get. -laughs-
Our pocket of the music world is both big and small at the same time, right?
Yeah. [Everywhereās] got their own equivalent, their own mirror image of what youāve got. Itās really interesting for me ā from the point of records, and physical objects ā how the experimental ācanonā exists, and thereās lots of records in it; your local place will have an amount of them, and you go to a different [place], and they have a different part of the canon in physical form. Thatās crazy.
I might do [this] with my next couple of releases ā but Iād love to do variations that you can get in physical form [only]. Thereās something exciting about that. I have this big thing about this: people donāt use the joy of the medium that theyāre in enough, if that makes sense. Iāve seen people do [this] and I want to try it ā like, getting a tape and burying it and distressing it. Itāll sound like shit, but it will be a unique kind of shit. Thatās something you can only do with tape! If I buried a record, I wouldnāt get the same thing. Iāve got clipping.ās self-titled CLPPNG on vinyl, and the D-side [of the record] is just loads of locked grooves of vinyl ā so depending on where you drop the needle, it will loop around a sound from the album indefinitely. And you can only do that on a record. It wouldnāt make sense anywhere else. Thatās something that Iāve always wanted to experiment with ā and will hopefully find the brain space to experiment with. Thereās cool things in physicality.
Have you been able to experiment with physical media in your own work ā for example, disintegrating tapes?
Itās something I want to do more. This has been the first point in my life where Iāve decided to put money into my [projects]. Iāve done everything very much on the cheap ā in the box, freesound.org ā [but] Iāve bought myself a nice cassette player, and Iāve bought myself a nice synth ā and I want to start experimenting properly, using that, and not [be] afraid to invest in the stuff I like doing.
What projects do you have on the go at the moment, then?
Iām the king of not releasing anything. -laughs- But at the moment, Iāve got two that Iām currently working on. One is a collection of works with a bunch of spoken word artists. I like collaborating with people. I never wanted Sylvia_Din, as a project, to just be āmeā; I want it to be almost like [a] jane doe ā a name that doesnāt exist in the real world ā anyone can be part of it, itās always open doors, always open for collaboration.
Iāve got the second, āproperā Sylvia_Din EP. And Iām also working with some other people from across the world on [a] project which Iām not sure when will see the light of day. Thatās the most vague one, because thereās a group of us who are writing stuff under the name Dusk Territoryā¦ But theyāre situated everywhere, so getting everyone to [come together] and collaborate is difficult. And thereās one more with Tumours Grow Teethā¦
Tell me a bit about your band, Tumours Grow Teeth ā how did that project gestate?
When I was at uniā¦ Lancaster Uni, as far as Iām aware, gutted most of its arts program. Or it felt like it did, anyway. Thereās still a lot of visual stuff, but the music stuff is basically gone ā not sure if it even existed. So I was in my third year of uni ā and a guy came up to me who Iād met a couple of times at nights out in and around campus, and he was like āIām gonna bring back the indie and alternative music scene, [and] I want you to be social sec.ā When I joined Lancaster, I was fucking gutted that there wasnāt a good music scene, and there werenāt weirdo music geeks I could chat shit about ā no one wants to hear that at a partyā¦ -laughs- So after a level of persuasion, I was like āactually, I want to do this for first year Tom.ā I ended up making a couple friends out of that, [and] we started a noisy industrial band. We played one gig, and it was a noise set in a burrito shop. -laughs- That was under the name Tumours Grow Teeth, and Iām working on that at the moment. So hopefully I can get that out.
So thereās a good four EPās in the works that Iām working on. Iāve made a promise to myself that Iāve gotta get at least, two or three out this year. Iāve been sitting on them for too long ā as I sit on everything.
I completely empathise. I keep sitting on pieces, and records, and so many of them just donāt see the life of day. -laughs- I donāt know if youāre like that ā missing the mark on putting them out?
Iāve had this with multiple things. And I think thatās why with the ones Iām doing at the moment, itās like: as soon as itās done, itās out. If I sit on it, Iāll learn to hate it. As your skills get better, you look at what youāve just done as āworseā, and thus you donāt put it out. And youāre always getting better ā youāre always learning and improving ā so by virtue of that, if you keep following this mentality, you never put anything out. Through the writing process, you have improved. [Thatās why] with these ones, as soon as theyāre done, theyāre out; because even if I donāt love it, someone else might.
Thereās something nice about that mentality ā but conversely, do you find thereās that toxic pressure once you do release something?
Oh, god. Itās really toxic; toxic is definitely the word. I absolutely love my partners patience with me, sheās amazing – thereāll be moments when the [streaming] numbers get to me ā and suddenly I canāt sleep, because Iām not doing enough, because Iām not releasing enough, and then I panic spiral. And panic spirals arenāt good for anyone. But itās a horrible thought: but equally, itās a horrible thought that you would write something, and it not reach anyone. It doesnāt have to reach everyone, but Iād like it to reach the people that I think might enjoy it. As long as Iāve given it its fair shake, and itās in the world, itās in the realms of people that will perform it, and enjoy itā¦ thatās enough for me.
It can be really disheartening when you put your heart and soul into a project, and three people listen to it.
You got three people? What the fuck, bro? Howād you crack that? -laughs-
Iāve got a couple new projects that are like, fledgling music projects. I was listening to a bunch of the old Crydamoure stuff ā which is the record label that Daft Punk [founded] ā and Archigramās āDoggystyleā flips an Iggy Pop sample. I was reflecting on how: I love dance music, I love electronic music, and itās built for a club atmosphere ā so when you hear it in a club, youāre like āthis makes senseā ā and I like indie music, I like scrappy guitar riffs and jumping around. However, indie clubs are not a great experience, because all you can do is sing along or shuffle. Itās a bit weird -laughs- I was reflecting on listening to āDoggstyleā, and I was likeā¦ ājust flip more indie records! Thereās good basslines out there.ā So on the [tracks] Iām doing at the momentā¦ Hear a bassline? Flip it! Put a kick drum underneath it. Make a five-minute dance song. You know, if Daft Punk can master the art of ramming a two-and-a-half second disco sample through a Korg MS-20, then so can I. -laughs-
Youāve mentioned your collaborative spoken-word record thatās coming out soon ā tell me a bit about how that record came to be?
I had this kind of sparse, bass-y, really glitched out beat ā much like everyone in the production scene at the moment, I got really into granular synthesis, and I basically started running loads of individual drums through different branches of granual synth. It created this super hazy beat. And I was like, itās super cool, but it needsā¦ something. It needs a narrative. So I messaged Joshua Jones ā heās helped me out on [my] zines before ā and I was like āhey! Iāve got this beat, are you interested?ā, and he went āyeah!ā So I started working with him. While I was working with [Josh], he messaged me saying a friend of [his] heard what weāre doing and wants to get involved ā Aaron Kent, from Broken Sleep Books ā and he got involved. So now Iām doing two tracksā¦ Thatās how it carried on, over time.
This is my second worst quality: increasing the scope of things to the point where they never get finished. -laughs- Iāve decided, four tracks [and Iām] done. If I keep adding more people, itāll be goodā¦ but itāll never get released.
I totally understand that. Youāll have too much of a good time making itā¦
In my personal experience ā if you write the music you want to write, you end up pigeonholing yourself, because youāre not forced to be outside of your own comfort zone. Which is why I like to try and bring as many people in to work with me as I can on Sylvia_Din, because I get a bit of āthemā and add them to the narrative. When I was working with Aaron, I was like: right, send me an [inspiration] playlist of five songs you want the beat to sound likeā¦ And he sent me some Silver Mt. Zion, Aphex Twin, so I was like ācool, weāre gonna go for IDM-post rock.ā Iād never written IDM-post rock before. Stuff like that forces me out of my comfort zone. I think thatās the fun of having to write for someone; and naturally, youāre gonna put your own spin on it, because itās being filtered through you.
I bought this nice cassette player as a treat from me to me. And I can record onto it ā so for this spoken word project, I wanna do a small run of cassettes. Iāll DIY it. Iāll do it myself, and Iāll be able to experiment with maybe burying a couple so they sound all fucked up; which will build into this [sound world] Iām doing where all the instrumentals sound a little bit phasey and falling apart. Thatās what I want to do more for this EP: be more ambitious. Donāt just put them on Spotify and not tell anyone.
God. I know too many composers and artists who do that exact thingā¦
āBuild it and they will comeā mentality is fucking dead. Donāt do that. No one gives a shit.
No one cares unless you shout at them, right?
Everything is, like, homebrewed as fuck [with me]. My mate is really good at this, which is: being confident in the stuff that he does. Heās like, cool, just talk about it. And I just donāt have that same level of confidence ā and itās something Iām trying really hard to [improve]. My friends meme on me, because you can see what people are listening to on Spotify ā they can see me listening to my own music. -laughs- I like listening to my own music, because I wrote it for me! Whenever I listen to it, I go: āyeahā¦ I did write this!ā And Iāve got to bring that energy forward.
Letās talk about your curatorial practice. Youāve been releasing a series of zines called āOur Restless Bonesā ā how did you get involved with these artists?
Yeah! Iām respectful of the idea that the āartā that I do is very much āfor meā, and itās not always āgoodā, because Iām not necessarily ātrainedāā¦ However, I do have good taste, and the ability to go āfuck it, letās just do it.ā [āOur Restless Bonesā] started because of the pandemic. I needed to do something, my music wasnāt happening, and I had talented friends that were like āIāve written five poems this month and Iām so boredā, or āIāve been painting this, Iām so boredā¦ā ā and Iām like, this is really good stuff! Thatās how it started ā and it was fun for me, I got to learn how to use InDesign, I got to [use] a new set of skills that I never flexed before. I think thereās a joy in helping people get a platform, and have their voices heard.
Was there any particular reason for picking the groups of artists that you did?
Without sounding too Machiavellian, there was a point to it ā and I think this is whatās most important [to] the central theme of the zine ā everyone has their own friends. I knew that if I got [someone] involved, [their] social group would buy in ā but by buying in, they would also see other peoplesā work. If we all shared our scene with each other, the community can grow. The main idea was to: give a voice to people who didnāt have a voice before; give people a purpose, people who [were] struggling, like myself, during lockdown; and give people the ability to share that scene and grow. Itās really nice to see whenever I now go on to peoplesā Instagram pages, I see theyāve all followed each other. Itās little dumb things like that.
If youāre gonna ask what my central ethos for everything I do is, itās that: build a community, build a scene, get people involved and break down that barrier. You can do it. My friend was getting into music production, and was like āIāve always been interested, but Iāve never known how to do itā¦ā ā and heās coming over in two weeks and weāre gonna write a beat together. Break down these barriers, donāt gatekeep. Get involved ā get people involved.
“If youāre gonna ask what my central ethos for everything I do is, itās that: build a community, build a scene, get people involved and break down that barrier.” Tom Baker, in conversation with PRXLUDES
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Itās amazing to see these initiatives pop up with this mentality. Itās really great that people are understanding the importance of supporting each other.
To get people involved ā at first, it was messaging my friends. And then again ā people have friends with friends. Use the community youāve got. After I did the first [volume], we did an issue of 50, and that went out to people; and through that, I had people message me being like āhey! I wanna get involvedā¦ā
Well, youāve sold out of two of them!
Whatās really important for me ā [as] Iām not doing this for money, or the profits ā is doing good by helping people, [and] giving a voice. I think you can make money off it, and Iām not saying if you do [that] youāre a bad personā¦ But Iām not interested in [money]. Thatās not the focus. The focus is doing it, and feeling good, and helping people. I donāt know how Iād feel if I was like ācontribute to this zine, [and] Iām gonna take the profitsā ā that feels really not right ā whereas ācontribute to this zine, and if everything pans out we can raise Ā£150 for Mindā is something Iād want to be part of.
I guess itās a question of when and how to monetise your content, right?
The word ācontentā is the scariest word of the twenty-first century. Things being nuggets of contentā¦ As soon as money gets involved, it opens a box that I donāt know if you can always close. Youāve got to be very strict with yourself, and your values. Luckily, I do this whenever Iām getting restless, or Iāve got a cohort of people.
How do you find the time and space to organise all of these projects, both for yourself and for other people?
I always struggle with this. If Iām not doing something, I get very, very restless. My mental health takes a dive when Iām not active. The projects are the things that keep me happy, and motivated. I have a job ā I like my job, I like what I do ā but youāve got to have a passion, something that you feel is benefitting the world. Not that I think what I do is ābenefitting the worldā, but I think it makes a small difference. Especially [if] the zine is my give-back to societyā¦ Which all I can give back is a good organisational mindset and some basic InDesign skills. If thatās what Iām doing, thatās what Iāve got to give. -laughs-
Thatās how the best things start! As small, little DIY efforts. From my experience, no oneās ever created a good, sustainable business model in a boardroom.
I could do you one better! -laughs- For me, what was the saddest thing was the absolute demise of NME ā the most important thing I was reading when I was growing up. Iāve never seen a publication take a harder fucking hit; being monetised to the point of absurdity. The most flaccid-ass reviews Iāve ever seenā¦ it feels, like, less objectivity. If weāre gonna be music fans, and music critics, weāve got to at least be honest when somethingās maybe a little bit shit.
Even if itās your mates, you have to be objectiveā¦
Yeah. I find that part of the landscape a level of design. A loss of purposeā¦ your values, I guess.
I canāt even begrudge someone. Youāve got to ask yourself why youāre doing what youāre doing; and if youāre doing it to make bank, then thatās fine, man. Some people start businesses with the intent of selling them. If thatās your MO from the get-go, then get that bag, [I] respect that. But if youāre not, then you should probably think a little bit about that.
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Check out Tom’s respective projects at the links below:
- https://sylviadin.bandcamp.com/
- https://soundcloud.com/sylviadin
- https://tumoursgrowteeth.bandcamp.com/
Check out Our Restless Bones – and get one of the remaining copies of the zine’s Vol. 3 – at the link below:
References/Links:
- Skrillex – ‘Bangarang’, Owsla (2011)
- Tycho – Dive, Ghostly International (2013)
- clipping. – CLPPNG, Sub Pop (2014)
- Archigram – ‘Doggystyle’, Crydamoure (2003)