TONN INTERVIEWS: THIS IS THE BRIDGE

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Ahead of his new album release on TONN Recordings, we talk to This Is The Bridge about his early musical influences, his love of 1970s science fiction and his ongoing desire to challenge his artistic comfort zones.

Mary: One of the first things that drew me to This Is The Bridge was an uncompromising quality that runs through your music. Is this something that you’re aware of and if so, is it instinctive, or something that you consciously create? 

Richard: It’s not something I consciously pursue.

Indeed, to me, my musical output feels extremely compromised. Compromised by my equipment, by my limited production set-up and by my own shortcomings. When I complete a piece, I’m never entirely happy with it and that often spurs me on to try and do better the next time.

I think, perhaps, there is a tension that is created as a result. A restlessness.

It may also be a result of the solo nature of most the material I create. First and foremost, I make music by myself, for myself. Perhaps that’s something that people who make music on their own have in common – we are free do things on our own terms – for good or for ill.

So, I would have to say it’s simply instinctive. I just do what comes naturally to me, within those constraints.

Mary: What have been the greatest influences in the development of This Is The Bridge’s sound? 

Richard: Creatively speaking…. my love of music. Recalling the very real fear of nuclear war. Childhood. Memories. The 1970s. A teacher playing the class Mendelssohn’s Fingal’s Cave when I was eight. Hearing OMD’s ‘Messages’ on the local radio in Liverpool the same year (and being transfixed). Quatermass. A love of abstraction. The 1980s. The impact of Thatcherism on the UK and on my family. Hearing the opening moments of ‘Exercise One’ when I bought Joy Division’s ‘Still’ compilation LP and first put it on the turntable (that bassline!). Watching ‘Threads’. Feeling like a teenage alien outsider in the South East of England. Post Punk. The Rite of Spring. Science Fiction. Oxygene. British Television. Disco. The experience of art school. Mars - The Bringer of War. Gary Numan. Michael Nyman. History. Feelings of inferiority. Electro House. Killing Joke. Andrei Tarkovsky. Iain M Banks. Xmal Deutschland. A nation living in the past. The 1990s. Asimov. Atheism. The Fall. Clockwork Orange. Depression. Sinfonia Antarctica. Blackadder. The Young Ones.

Practically speaking… I’ve come to think that when an artist, or group, is felt to have a ‘sound’ it is often a happy accident. It’s never entirely by design. It’s a combination of their sensibilities, what inspires them, their intent, their experiences, their environment and very importantly (especially when it comes to electronic music) the instruments and processes they are using. It’s a blend. And often, the equipment they use is very much by chance. It may simply be what they can afford, what they have managed to beg, steal or borrow. If I’d gotten a Juno early on for example, rather than a CS-15 and SH-101, I might have gone down a quite different route.

Mary: Do you recall the very first time you made music? What prompted you to start? 

Richard: It always felt inevitable. Even as a child, when I listened to music I really enjoyed, I somehow felt it actively rather than passively. By that I mean that I would never just let it wash over and envelope me, my mind always seemed to place me within it. I would feel I was playing it, or sometimes imagine myself doing so. But I didn’t really follow up on these feelings until I was a teenager. The music lessons I had at my schools were very poor and quite joyless.

For a long time, I was only able to dabble with various basic keyboards and tone banks, rather than a true synth. I would have been in heaven to obtain a true synthesizer, but they simply didn’t seem accessible to me back then. The ones in stores where far, far out of my price range. I didn’t have any money. Ironically, at this time, many classic analogue synths could probably have been picked up second-hand at bargain prices. But this was pre-internet, so I simply didn’t know that you could acquire such stuff, let alone know where to find it. I didn’t even know what to look for.

So, as part of an obligatory art-school band with some friends, I gravitated toward guitars, simply because they were more affordable and accessible. Plus, at that point we were all very much into Post-Punk and Indie. This was around 1989-1992, the time of Ride, Slowdive and My Bloody Valentine. I had also increasingly been looking backwards to discover the punkier side of Goth too. We used primitive drum machines, catchy bass lines (the bassist was very good) and a wall of distorted, discordant noise – I couldn’t play guitar very well. I still can’t.

The college band split and we went our different ways. That’s when I first started making music solo. It was still dominated by cheap guitars, but I would also make extensive use of a little Yamaha PSS-560, effects pedals and an old reverb box I had acquired. I did lots of demo tracks, recorded on a cheap 4 track. No vocals and no actual synths yet. I called myself ‘The Bridge’ after the early 20th Century German Expressionist group ‘Die Brücke’. Their name stuck in my mind via the lecture theatre. This was all just something I did obsessively in my bedroom, for myself. I rarely shared any of it and had no ambitions to play live let alone to pursue a career.

Brücke 1910 portfolio - Ernst Ludwig Kirchner

My very first synth, indeed my first proper hands-on experience with any true synth, was when I was offered a used Roland JD-800 relatively cheaply. It was a big beast of a machine and the sort of thing I dreamed of as a child. But, this was a bit of a false start, as I never really exploited it and in truth, didn’t really understand what the fuck I was doing with it. This was because I was already drifting away from creating music, instead focussing on trying to build a career in visual design. I eventually sold it before really doing much with it, shortly after giving away all my other equipment. 

Mary: So, what prompted you to start again? 

Richard: I think it was prompted by two things. Firstly, I became aware, entirely by chance, of how accessible software synths and sequencers were starting to become – so my initial experiments were all created on a computer. That got me started, but it wasn’t long before analogue hardware started appearing and taking over.

Secondly, after a period listening to a lot of Electro House and Techno, I started to discover the Minimal Synth scene. It immediately grabbed my interest. I discovered some amazing music that really spoke to me. I soon had Martial Canterel on repeat. I started to make contact with some of the artists involved, some of whom have been particularly inspirational and supportive. Most especially Iv/An, who really played an enormous role in encouraging me, almost like a mentor.

Mary: Can you tell us about your composition process? 

Richard: It varies, but often, it begins with me simply having a little play on a synth, with no expectation of creating something. I will frequently begin with a melody, and a sound, which usually feels like something I’ve uncovered rather than consciously created, so I feel the need to capture it before it disappears again.

I think that need to capture moments of chance might be something that analogue synths encourage, particularly those where you can’t save patches. It’s wonderfully addictive and accessible turning dials, and moving sliders, but it also feels quite ephemeral.

I tend to then add a bassline, and then finally percussion. I think this might be the reverse of how many people work, but starting with a beat doesn’t usually get me going.

In terms of vocals, I will often have a theme in mind as I’m beginning a piece and may adapt the melody around a few initial vocal and lyrical ideas, and to suit my range. I’m pretty unapologetic when it comes to endlessly plagiarising myself, adapting verses I’ve used before. When I release a set of songs, invariably, the lyrics are consciously interrelated, with themes and phrases often reappearing in different forms across the songs.

I’m most productive in the early hours of the morning. I find I work best when it is pitch black outside, and when everything else feels shutdown. In an ideal world, I would be nocturnal for long periods of time, but life doesn’t allow me that luxury.

I often create music whilst watching old films and TV, often with the sound down and subtitles on.

I also regularly collaborate with others, including my partner, Sasha.  

Mary: If there was one piece of equipment that you would single out as being integral to your music, what would it be?

Richard: Fingers.

Mary: Anything else?

Richard: It varies. I have a small collection of synthesizers. Inevitably, it is those within easiest reach in my studio that tend to get used the most. So, from time to time, I move things around in order to encourage me to not always use the same synths. I go through periods using different combinations.

I don’t consider myself a collector, or a synth fetishist, but I certainly do understand the thrill of getting a new piece of equipment. For me it’s about getting an entirely fresh palette and new textures. A new synth always sparks a fresh wave of ideas and sometimes leads to an adaptation in output.

Mary: Your voice has a very powerful quality to it. To what degree have you cultivated your vocal over time?

Richard: That’s interesting to hear, as singing really doesn’t come naturally to me. 2013 was the first time I tried singing since being in primary school.

I probably have worked at it over the past few years. Not entirely consciously, I’ve often pushed the vocals to the front, or forced myself out of my limited comfort zone. It kind of feels like I’m obsessively focussing on what I view as a weakness.

In terms of power, I’ve become aware that I sing quite loudly. It feels more comfortable to me, and it seems to give me just a little bit more control.

Mary: Do you feel comfortable performing live?

Vienna 2014. Image: M. Obernosterer

Richard: I’m comfortable with the idea of doing it, and I’m comfortable being on stage, and do quite enjoy it. But the process of preparing to play live and the moments before getting up on stage, I don’t enjoy at all. I don’t feel like a natural performer and neither am I an exhibitionist. I’m more of a confident introvert.

I enjoy the creative process far more, composing and recording. That’s really where my enthusiasm lies. I invest my energies almost fully into making music rather than performing it. Further, I don’t always have the time and space to commit, given the pressures of my day job, not to mention, being a parent.

So, as a result, This is The Bridge live shows are rare events, few and far between. I get asked and invited. Some people even seem to think This is The Bridge is a band. But only very occasionally do I feel able to say yes. The very first show I did was in Vienna, for a Vanity Vague event. I’ve done a couple of shows in London. And of course, I performed in Belfast at that fantastic TONN Live event.

Mary: Do you think your music bears any hallmarks of a British synth tradition? Or do you not identify it as being rooted in any specific place.

Richard: I grew up listening to a lot of British synth music, from a very early age. This was also at a time when overtly electronic sounds were actually far more commonplace on British airwaves, so it’s undoubtedly had a profound and lasting impact on me. But it’s not really a conscious thing. I do what comes naturally.

And of course, I’m British and I live in Britain. So, there will be distinctive cultural and sociological inputs that influence me and help shape my sensibilities. 

Further than that, I’m not sure – I will leave it to others to judge.

Mary: I noticed from your choice of album visuals and titles, that there seem to be influences from architecture and cinema, sci-fi of the 60s and 70s for example. Could you perhaps tell us something about how those things inform your music? 

Richard: I tend to go through thematic phases, where I create a range of pieces largely based around one central idea or unifying narrative. I tend to make music and write lyrics about the things that interest me and use them as an inspiration.

For example, I have had two periods where I was consciously exploring and reflecting on modern architecture and the post-war period in Britain.

I’ve long had an interest in modern architecture, dating back to when I was a student. I think the period in the 1950s and 1960s saw a real sense of heroic idealism and civic ambition at play in Britain. But a lot of that legacy is being lost, demolished. I released a set of songs in 2019 called ‘The New Brutalism: Part 2’ (part 1 was back in 2015) and I subtitled it ‘a tragedy on the theme of British post-war utopianism’. That’s how I tend view the British experience with modernism - in large part, a heroic tragedy, which adds a certain fascination for me.

More recently, I had a phase reflecting on the pandemic, but through the prism of history, which led me to consider the medieval period through to the 17th Century and beyond. The Black Death to the Great Plague of London. History has also long been an area of interest.

I read quite a lot of Science Fiction and have always been an avid viewer of sci-fi films and television. I got this from my father. He took me to the cinema to see ‘2001: A Space Odyssey’ on re-release when I was only 5 years old. I grew up watching things like Doctor Who (Tom Baker especially), Quatermass, Blake’s 7, Star Trek and Space 1999. I still enjoy them now.

Certainly not exclusively, but I tend to enjoy older British sci-fi as the production limitations mean there tends to be more focus on concept, script and character… and quarries; it seems half of the classic Doctor Who episodes were largely filmed in a quarry, and almost every episode of Blake’s 7. That, or a power station. It gives them a very austere, industrial character, which I enjoy.

A few years ago I discovered ‘Out of The Unknown’, a BBC anthology series from the late 60s and early 70s which I absolutely love.

Cinema more widely has also had a big impact on me. As I mentioned, I often watch films whilst composing, almost like I’m creating an ad-hoc soundtrack. For example, early on, using software, I produced a collection called ‘Anatoly Solonitsyn is Dead’, which was entirely inspired by the films of Andrei Tarkovsky. ‘Solaris’ (1972) had a major impact on me when I first saw it, as did ‘Stalker’ (1979), which led me to seek out the rest of his work.

Politics often also comes into things too. It transcends. Everything is political. However, I do try not to be too overt when it comes to political messages. Occasionally, I will be more explicit, such as, “Fuck the 80s”, “Maggie Has Risen From The Dead” or “Nazi Synths Fuck Off”. The track titles probably speak for themselves.

Mary: You’re an incredibly prolific artist, who is constantly evolving. That’s particularly clear in your new album, ‘World Without End’, which features guitar, an instrument we’ve not associated with This Is The Bridge before. Could you tell us how you came to develop the new sound we hear in this album? 

Richard: I think in part it was a fear of repetition and a desire to try something different, but mainly it was just a spontaneous decision to buy a cheap guitar again, then a bass.

In some ways, this recent material, featuring guitars, is reconnecting with the music I was making in the 90s, but it feels that it is coming from a very different place.

It was probably unexpected for me too. I used to listen to a lot of guitar driven music, but for some years now, I’ve found it had engaged me less and less.

I think that’s because I’m just not into the idea of the conventional three to four-piece rock band setup. There have been some great bands over the years, many that I’ve loved, many that I’ve seen, but such a set-up in 2021 rarely holds my interest. I’ve come to realise that this is partly because I really don’t like the macho rock posturing that often goes along with it, and I never have. To me, a guitar solo is too often a form of sonic masturbation: excited hands in a frenzy up and down a wooden shaft – legs spread wide, sweaty face in contortions of smug self-satisfaction – to me, it’s bloody horrific. I just don’t want to look at that, let alone listen to it.

That is perhaps why it is often the women who came out of the various alternative rock scenes that have probably inspired me the most over the years. Especially during the punk and post-punk years. They were less mired in all that male cliché bullshit, they forged their own path, and they were often the innovators as a result. When men operate in a more electronic setup, perhaps that macho rock posturing and rock self-image doesn’t come so naturally – so that immediately tends to make them more open, and perhaps more honest, and to me, more interesting.

So, for me to add guitars to my palette of sounds, and even to have them dominate again in some cases, was a bit of a left turn. But I found I enjoyed it, and quickly got inspired by the new possibilities. Just like getting a new synthesizer. Indeed, an electric guitar has a lot in common with a synthesizer. After all, it’s just an input device. It all comes down the manipulation of voltages and the processing of the sound.

I can’t really play the damn things of course, I never could, it’s a real struggle. I don’t pretend otherwise. It’s like singing. I think my instincts often push me to get out of a comfort zone. 

Mary: Is there a theme for this new set of material?

Yes. It’s about a desire to escape or to reverse things, finding focus in the idea of existing on another world, perhaps alone. I created most of these tracks alongside the set of material that I put out in late 2020 as ‘Sans Soleil’ so they share a common theme, even some lyrical elements, but the soundscape and sensibility is quite different. I see ‘World Without End’ as the close of a cycle of work running through 2020, reflecting my evolving state of mind.

Mary: What is next for you in 2021?

I have one or two other projects already in progress, and there are several more collaborations planned very soon.

In terms of the experiment with guitars, we’ll see where it leads, but maybe I’ll try and do Jazz-Funk next, or perhaps… buy a Trombone.

Surprise myself. 

‘World Without End’ is released 19th February on TONN Recordings.

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