Tone Glow 169: Simon Pyke (Freeform)
Tone Glow 169: Simon Pyke (Freeform)
An interview with the English IDM producer about his first experiences with electronic music, his creative process, and the importance of play.
Simon Pyke (Freeform)
Simon Pyke is an electronic musician based in Brighton, England. In the 1990s and 2000s, inspired by his teenage fandom for the likes of Aphex Twin and Autechre, he released music under the name Freeform on Skam and Warp, among other labels. Projects like Human (2002) and Wildcat (2003) exhibit something distinct within this wider cohort of boundary-pushing music—his tracks are probing and eccentric, teeming with organic textures and far-flung instrumental flourishes. Pyke has continued to release music in the decades since, including under his own name. Working alongside his brother Matt through the design studio Universal Everything, he’s also participated in corporate-facing projects, helping to prepare art exhibitions for businesses like Marriott and Hyundai and composers like Hans Zimmer. Recently, Pyke has reorganized, remastered and rereleased some of his first recorded work as Freeform, like the Free EP (1995), his first release on Skam; A Compilation Compilation (2024), collecting Freeform tracks from various compilations between 1995 and 2012; and The Demo 1994 (2024), an early demo tape.
H.D. Angel spoke with Simon Pyke over Zoom on August 30, 2024. They spoke about his first experiences with electronic music, how his creative process has changed as he’s gotten older, and the importance of play.
H.D. Angel: What have you been up to today?
Simon Pyke: What have I been doing today? I’ve just been chilling today, really. I went on a big… well, a medium-sized hike yesterday, so I’m resting my legs. It’s a school holiday at the moment, so I’ve been hanging out with my family a bit.
So you have kids?
Yeah, I have a daughter. She’s 12.
I know you grew up in Fareham—could you tell me about what your upbringing was like there?
Fareham is kind of a market town, a fairly non-eventful place on the south coast in England. So it wasn’t a huge amount to do, but I spent a lot of time with my brother skateboarding and listening to music. He was into doing graffiti and stuff like that, artistic-type stuff.
What were your parents like? What did they do for a living?
Neither of them did anything particularly in the world of creative art stuff. My mum was a nursery nurse, working with preschool kids, and my dad was an engineer working at a filter company in Portsmouth.
You and your brother Matt have been working together on creative stuff for quite a while—so you got close to each other around those interests growing up?
Like I said about Fareham, it wasn’t a town bustling with culture, really, but there were a few people, mostly in my brother’s year that he was friends with, that would introduce us to different music and all the stuff that was going around at the time—breakdance, skateboarding, things like that. There were people around who would introduce us to different artists and music, occasionally. I would say that side of things became more of a focus after leaving the town where I grew up.
Could you talk to me about those early experiences with music growing up? I think you wrote that it was your dad’s radio that got you into all the different electronic music and pirate radio stations.
Oh, yeah! We did have an aerial. I wonder where you got this from. We had an aerial in the roof that my dad put in for us, in the loft, which meant I could pick up the rave radio stations. I think there were a couple of pirate radio stations on the Isle of Wight, so I was listening to those sort of in and out of tune. And Kiss FM, which I think started off as a pirate radio station. It may well have stopped being one by the time I heard it, but for me as a 13 or 14-year-old, it was an exciting, strange thing to be listening to. It had all this techno music which was quite bizarre and different to anything else I’d heard.
People would say… or, I thought, “This is music where people go to a club, and everyone just lies face down on the floor while listening to it.” I don’t know where that came from (laughs) but that was an impression I had of where this weird, exotic music was coming from.
And there wouldn’t have been any clubs or raves in your vicinity—it was strictly a remote interest?
Well, at that time I was not old enough to go to clubs anyway—I would have been 13, 14, 15, whatever. There were clubs, but I wasn’t going to them. There might have been a couple of clubs which some of the kids in my year were going to, underage, but I wasn’t that brave.
I know Matt moved out to London for school. Was following him there what got you involved in the record stores and that whole scene at the time?
I suppose so. We were into the music stuff from before, like I mentioned, and also from the local Our Price record shop. I think we probably discovered the early bleep stuff and Aphex Twin just before Matt went to London. When he moved up there—to Croydon, actually, just outside London—I was visiting a fair bit, and he met a group of people and started going out to clubs, meeting people in record shops, getting a little bit more immersed in that kind of culture.
Can you talk to me about what the social environment was like at that point? I know you and your friends were dubbed the “Warpettes,” because you all wore Warp Records T-shirts.
It was probably mostly centered around going to these record shops, getting to know the people there, picking out flyers, and once you started to find artists and DJs you liked, you’d end up discovering different clubs from the physical flyers and people outside the clubs. We still felt like outsiders in a way; we didn’t know many people there, so we would turn up at all the gigs of the people we liked records from or DJs that we’d liked from before.
Were you younger than the other guys you were with?
Yeah. My brother Matt must have gone to London at about 18, so I was 16 when I first started going up to visit. I do remember, the first clubs I was going to, I was underage—like 17 or whatever. So there was always a bit of a challenge of having to pretend to be a bit older.
Do you remember the first time you went to an actual techno club? How did it compare to the image you had in your head?
Hmm, first time… I’m not sure about the actual specific time. I do remember going to a Sabres of Paradise club night. That must have been one of the very first ones. It all felt a little bit scary, in a way—all these older people, lots of drug dealers, stuff like that (laughs). But exciting, you know? And I suppose that would have been my first experience of hearing music at that sort of level, where you can feel the bass. So, yeah, exciting. I didn’t encounter a techno club where everyone was face down on the floor, like I’d thought. But I’m not sure how seriously I took that.
Were you guys any good at dancing?
I don’t know about "good" at dancing, but we did it! The nice thing about clubs and stuff then, I suppose, was that it would be pretty dark, everyone would be in the same room dancing, and there’d be no one video-ing anyone, so there was no particular paranoia about what you looked like when you’re dancing. Well, not…
No more than the baseline paranoia.
Yeah.
How old were you when you started getting noticed for the Freeform stuff?
That was sort of interlinked with what I mentioned about meeting people in record shops. Ambient Soho was one of the shops we used to go to a lot, and we got to know the people there. I wasn’t personally giving demos to anyone, but my brother and his friends would give people tapes all the time of music I was making. It must have been about 17, possibly 16, because there’s a few tracks on my first album I did when I was 16. There’s a magazine called Future Music, which still exists in the UK, and it’s a nerdy tech magazine that I sent a demo to—they put a track on their cover CD that I did when I was 16. I guess that’s the first thing that was heard outside of my friend group or my bedroom.
And you met some of the artists that you’d been listening to before through Ambient Soho too, right? I know you met the Autechre guys.
I did. I met Rob [Brown] very briefly in that shop. I think the first gig I did was actually supporting Autechre, which was a night that was put on by that record shop, so I met them there. It was quite overwhelming for me because it’s like—oh, it’s my favorite band, and the next thing I know, I’m meeting them. It was all a bit strange for me, really. But cool.
Other people in that world… Robin Rimbaud, Scanner, who was basically at every single gig we went to, we got to meet him. And after that, a lot of the Warp people, but that’s jumping ahead a little bit.
Did you have mentors or older people you looked up to at this point?
Yeah. Those guys from Autechre, for one, and then there was Chantel, Mira Calix, who died recently. She kind of took us under her wing and helped with recommending music and how to get into the music world, stuff like that. And this was before she was making music, actually, so that was cool.
What kinds of things was she teaching you, that you had to learn?
One of the big things was encouraging the elements of the music I was doing which were different and unique, more than the stuff which was just influenced by other people. That was the most valuable thing. With Sean and Rob from Autechre as well, it was always—your value comes from your uniqueness. Trying to keep that spirit of not worrying too much about what other people are doing, and trying to carve your own path.
Where did you go to college?
I went to a few different places. If we start right at the beginning, I started a music technology course in Wandsworth, in London, which I sort of did but didn’t really finish because I went on tour in the middle of it. Then I had a break of a year or two, and then on the edges of London I went to Middlesex University and studied Sonic Art. Experimental music was one of those courses where no one expected there to be any career at the end of it (laughs), but it was a creative-focused course.
What did Sonic Art coursework entail at that point? Were you learning things that you weren’t learning by experimenting on your own time?
There was a module where we were trying out tape, and getting an idea of where the digital tools that were starting to emerge came from. But also a much wider perspective. I thought I was into obscure music until I went on that course, and then you realize how extreme the fringes of experimental music can be. So it sort of widened the horizon, in that sense, and the kinds of places you could have those kinds of performances as well. I think one of the most valuable things about that course was just the other people on it, because it was quite a broad range of people from different perspectives on the experimental side of music. So the conversations with people probably had the most long-lasting value.
Were you taking a lot of time away from school to tour and do gigs?
Yeah. I was doing a fair few gigs, but the course was fairly flexible, and I don’t remember there being huge amounts of lectures, so you could really make it work between the gigging.
What artists or ideas were you getting introduced to through the course?
The focus was quite heavy on electroacoustic music, so there would be people like Dennis Smalley, who was almost a celebrity electroacoustic academic (laughter). Pierre Bastien—actually, that’s something I got into [outside of] college. John Cage, all the more academic side of experimental music. It was interesting to find, on that course, that people like Aphex Twin were considered to be pop music, essentially.
The impression I get is that this new electronic music world you were a part of was seen early on as kind of a private, nerdy interest—you’d send things through the mail, or e-mail other fans you found online. When did you get the sense that this was a big deal, something where you could go anywhere and people would appreciate it?
I suppose fairly early on, going back to when my brother moved to London and met people that were actually involved in music as careers. It was like, “Oh, right, this is interesting. I might be able to do this instead of getting a job.” So quite early on, I realized that there was this scene of people, however small it was, that were open to making this kind of music that pushed the boundaries, encouraging you to have a unique voice, where the stuff you’re into encourages you to explore more than conform.
Could you talk to me about the transition from just out of college, when you were just doing school and art, to beginning your professional career? I know for a lot of people that can be a bit of a culture shock or reality check.
Just before I left college, I got really lucky and got one decent job doing a TV ad—really bad music for Pringles, selling a chance to win a trip to Ibiza. So I did this music that was completely the opposite of anything I would choose to make. I made a bit of money on that, so when I first left, I felt like, “OK, cool, this is my career now.” But when that ran out, the reality hits you, of having to actually try and make a living, which I was doing mostly by playing gigs—just scraping by for a while, doing whichever gigs came on my doorstep. As time went on, it became clearer that I had to try and find another income. Eventually I managed to get a couple of commercial jobs doing low-key branding stuff and built up from there.
So the gigs were the primary way of making money from music—not people buying records.
Mostly. I did get a bit from things like remixes and compilations, from time to time, and one or two releases when I got a half-decent advance that meant I could work on something for a while. I suppose it was a combination of that stuff and gigs, to start with.
How did the Universal Everything stuff with Matt come together?
He was working for a design company called Designer’s Republic, who do a lot of record sleeves and things like that. That was his first job out of college. Universal Everything is the company that he formed when he left that company, basically. Part of his motivation for starting it was doing motion-based work, as well as still sleeves, which meant that they would require music and sound. Because we’ve always worked together on stuff in the past, it’s just been a natural transition into working together. They’ve got more people working there now, people that come in and out and freelance, but I’ve retained that collaborative relationship with them ever since.
I know your primary interest was music, and then you went on to do these art exhibitions and visual projects; did you pick up those interests from that work?
My role in those pieces is always centered on music and audio. But obviously from working with images I have formed another perspective on the relationship between visuals—animation, concepts—and music, and translating the emotional aspects of visual art into music. It’s along the same thread, but you’re responding to other factors, whether it’s visual, conceptual, or emotional. It made me a bit more plugged-in to certain processes in my work and how they relate to other media.
Do you feel like you get along well in these corporate or tech spaces? I know that with some people I know, it’s a situation of, “Well, I’m the art person, these are the business guys.”
Yeah. I’m usually in a position where I’m dealing with creatives. There will often be a producer, or a few layers between the business guys and the creative. It still comes with its challenges because you have to fulfill a brief, and you have to reflect what it is that the client wants. That’s something I’ve had to learn to embrace, I suppose. In the beginning it could feel like, “it’s us and them, and we’re fighting in our corner to keep this.” But now it’s more like—you need to have a conversation, and you have to get people on board with your ideas, and try and make something as good as it can be while keeping everyone happy, which isn’t always easy.
Have you noticed any other big changes in your creative process as you’ve gotten older? I imagine being a kid scouring around for inspirations gives you a very different relationship to the work than having done the same things for decades.
In the beginning, you’ve got this mad enthusiasm for taking everything in, trying new stuff. As you get older, you often have to fight this cynicism, the “OK, well, I’ve done this before.” Keeping that novelty and enthusiasm is something you have to work harder at. I have to write on the wall, “Play!” Remember to play! You have to break out of your habits a little bit and try to challenge yourself. It becomes more of something you have to remind yourself to keep front and center.
How do you do that?
When I’m between client jobs, I try and have time where I just try things out—maybe go out of the studio with a recording device and challenge myself to do something. I’m always recording stuff just with my phone on the built-in microphone. I try to make sure that sometimes I make stuff without a goal. I’ll be like, “You’ve just given yourself a day just to experiment with stuff. You don’t have to finish anything. You can get out of that client-facing, functional mode and be more playful.”
Occasionally, I’m trying to use new tools. But I have focused too much on that in the past. It turns into just buying tons of gear all the time because you think that’s gonna put you in a different mindset. I’m trying to step away from that a bit because, for one, it’s expensive.
I can see behind you—it’s a lot to manage.
Well, it’s quite minimal now. I’ve only got like three hardware synths, really, and a few gadgets. But it’s mostly computer and microphone and random bits and pieces. Also, making sure I’m always checking out new art and new music as well; that helps, I think, to keep things fresh.
I imagine having a 12-year-old daughter also changes your relationship to play, too.
Definitely. Having that kind of free mind to question what you’re doing, it helps. When she was younger, just having her in the studio, it gives you this feeling of, “Oh, this is just like a big playground, isn’t it? You can just bash this and bash that.” One of the things I do to try and facilitate that is to make sure there aren’t a lot of tech headaches. When you want to go and play, you can just start messing around quite quickly.
Does your daughter like your music?
She likes it when I ask her—to be polite, I think (laughter). There’s a couple of tunes she’s heard and she’s like, “Oh, actually, this is really good!” Like she’s surprised. So I think overall, she wouldn’t choose to listen to it.
On the subject of just having a bunch of gear, what stands out to me about your older music compared to a lot of your contemporaries at the time is all these unique sounds and textures. You’re including a lot of acoustic instruments, real instruments, from all over the place. Did you just amass a big collection of bargain-bin instruments?
Yeah, I guess so. I get quite obsessive, so there’s a lot of things that have come and gone. But I have got a fairly modest collection of… stuff. Random things I’ve found on travels, in junk shops. Those kinds of things I find easier to manage than buying loads of tech because—this is going to sound stupid, but—you don’t really have to learn it. To play instruments properly, you probably should learn it, but my approach tends to be: “What sound can I get out of this?” (laughter). I’ve got lots of random cheap stuff, basically. Some of the reason I went down that route was finding a unique sound, but also those kinds of sounds just interest me a lot more, a lot of the time, than the standard synthesizer sounds. Just because of my taste, I suppose.
Was there anything in particular that sparked an interest in those East and Southeast Asian folk sounds? They pop up a lot in your older work, and you do have that one album that’s literally called Audio Tourism: Vietnam and China [2001].
Soon after the London move, I did get quite into listening to a lot of different music from places beyond the West. African music, gamelan, and stuff like that. It comes just from having that curiosity about different music from different places. That specific album was an excuse to go on a big holiday and collect lots of instruments. Also, I think I submitted it as a bit of coursework on my degree, as well.
So you did actually go to all of the cities that the tracks are titled after?
Yeah. For that trip, I’d go with my little MiniDisc recorder, and I basically bought as many instruments as I could afford—and carry—as I went. Just recording sounds and collecting all these instruments. So I ended up with like two backpacks, and two string instruments in flight cases, and stuff strapped to me, like gongs on my back, and stuff. Anything that made a sound, I wanted to buy. I was just hungry for collecting tapes. I didn’t write anything as I was going; it wasn’t really a viable thing yet at that point, with laptops, and the practicality of just being there. And I brought it all back [to the UK], sampled everything, and made a load of music with it. With a lot of self-analysis and doubt, at the same time, as to whether this is a valid way of consuming their culture. Just taking it and making electronica out of it. But I digress.
Where would you get a random string instrument, if you were just in Vietnam, or something? Did you encounter someone who was like, “Why are you buying this?”
Part of it was just wandering around and just seeing something like a shop accidentally. But I think I had a book—it must have been, like, a Lonely Planet guide to the music of Vietnam. So I had a book that had a few pointers of places which were famous for certain types of music. I don’t remember if there was any details of shops. We didn’t have the Internet, so I must have just wandered around and found things.
Do you keep that wandering instinct when you go on trips these days?
I try to, except it’s a bit different when you’re with your family. There’s not quite that same opportunity to just go off wandering. Although I do that on my own now, but that tends to be in the wilderness rather than in cities.
Over the past year, you’ve dug a bunch of old Freeform rarities out of storage. What drove you to start doing that recently since these were recorded so long ago?
I think I was looking for something in the loft and I came across the tapes, and thought, “Oh, I’ll have a listen to those,” and dragged the tapes out. And then I thought, “Actually, some of this is quite interesting.” I went down a bit of an obsessive wormhole, transferring things, remastering stuff. I didn’t have much commercial work going, as well, so I just wanted something to focus on, to keep me busy.
I suppose it might also have something to do with getting older. It used to be a must: “Always focus on the future.” Nostalgia and looking back was seen as a negative thing. But I think now, it’s so long ago that looking back on those times with a bit of space is something I found myself enjoying a bit more. And talking to friends about that time in music, where there was this spirit of experimentation, gave me a bit of nostalgia for it, so I thought I’d dig back into that history.
Do you still keep up with the people you met through music in your teens?
No, not really. It’s a shame. It’s not intentional, though. There’s a few people on Facebook that I’ll interact with occasionally, that I met at gigs, and stuff like that. But I think the people I knew all mostly disappeared into their own directions, you know? And sometimes, the more high-profile people are harder to connect with, aren’t they? (laughter). They all hide from being found.
Is there anything coming out today that really excites you?
I’ve got my iTunes pulled up because I thought you might ask this question. I tend to listen to some poppy things. I’ve gotten really into Ben Howard recently. There’s this Japanese guy making lo-fi ambient stuff using samples, Meitei. That was one thing I thought was quite different to stuff I’d heard before—taking a hip-hop approach to ambient music. Interestingly, from that conversation about why I’ve revisited old stuff, I can see here I’ve been listening to lots of music from that era. It probably re-triggered a bit of a memory. Jazz, like Matthew Halsall, is classic. Lucrecia Dalt, I like. I saw her play in Brighton a few months ago, that was amazing.
Do you have a favorite project that you’ve worked on yourself?
Not really a favorite one. They’re all so different, aren’t they? It’s like choosing a favorite child, to use a cliché. I love working on the art exhibition stuff with Universal Everything. Partly because of the process and the freedom to have a period of play in order to find the right direction. But also just where it ends up: A lot of those exhibitions are enjoyed by families. I enjoy making stuff that’s really for entertainment, and bringing a smile to people’s faces. Making a magical environment.
Thank you for reading the 169th issue of Tone Glow. Make that magical environment.
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