Active in the Budapest DIY punk and noise scene since the late 2000s, his main artistic concepts revolve around sonic idiosyncrasy/anarchism, rooted in improvisation and often accompanied by high volume/sound pressure, then possible tinnitus.
You have a lot of music projects and are active in many formations and bands. In SHAPE+, you are participating with your solo venture. Can you talk about Drogded and your other bands? In Drogded, you work with synths, whereas in the other bands you use more “traditional” instruments, such as drums, etc.
What I do with other people or what I tend to do alone are, of course, on a spectrum of what I would like to do as a “soundmaker” (*bleh*, but better than saying I’m a musician).
All of my activities come from a basic playing-in-bands type of background, so working on music with people in a focused manner is a big part of how I think about music and making music in general. I won’t list what I’ve done in the past, anyone can look that up, but it’s totally okay for me to admit to myself that by now, it’s a lot.
In a group, I love to be part of a barrage of sound—whether it’s making any kind of noise, developing and practising different ideas compositionally, technically or sonically, or even working in the background as an engineer or producer.
On the other hand, when I’m alone I have way more freedom to do whatever the fuck I want. Of course, that comes with way more restrictions, as it’s just me on my own, but the challenge of achieving or overcoming something I didn’t or couldn’t do in the past is what excites me the most.
I haven’t made an oath to myself just yet, but I try not to do the same thing twice—at least not in a row. If I feel like doing harsh noise, but octophonic, then I do it. If I feel like playing Krautrock solo with all the instruments live, I won’t ask anyone to jam with me. If someone asks me to play at a rave, I’ll do an ambient set. If someone asks me to play at an ambient party (can you even call those parties?!), I do a speedcore session. It’s not about ruining other people’s fun or trying to stand out, it’s about blending in in a fucked up way.
I never used modular synths—I never had that kind of money, haha. And I don’t think I would dive into that now, either. But I really admire the architecture of it and I tend to use all sorts of different gear in a “traditional” modular manner to achieve specific sounds and functions, for sure. I just like making music that’s challenging for me and for the listener, too.
I remember a few years ago, when we had a SHAPE+ meeting at Terraforma festival, I was walking around Milan with a friend from another SHAPE+ member festival, and we got to one of the squats there, and suddenly you arrived in a van with other musicians you were touring with to play there. This is perhaps a very different way of operating to more traditional electronic music artists and DJs. What has the DIY punk/music scene taught you?
That’s actually normal for me—playing in bands and touring. I’m more of an old-school band type of rando than someone who’s known for being a solo artist. You can get away with calling it a tour, but in the end it’s a Europe-wide vacation with your friends where you get to play music every night, get fed and hang out, and at the end call it a tour, haha. Of course, it’s not that simple, it takes a lot of grinding and organising, but we still do it for the fun of it, not for the glory.
DIY is beautiful, probably the most motivating idea in my life, because it’s self-sustaining in a way that’s different from other things you usually associate with self-sustainment in general. It’s a big fucking amount of teamwork among people who share interests and are able to help each other. If you give, you can ask, and vice versa—but it’s not really a hard rule.
Talking about this scene, the next time I met you was at an airport; you were just coming back from playing in Copenhagen. This you do without having fancy booking agencies and whatnot, and you still manage to tour and play abroad more than many other musicians. Is the scene so very connected and global that you are able to play anywhere?
It’s hard to answer, because ”the scene”, or rather the subculture, is as connected as you try to be connected to it. Meaning, I struggle with booking myself, as I barely use social media, I’m not “in the loop” that much anymore, and I don’t really promote what I do (usually just the bare minimum) compared to others, who in my eyes are actually more like regular content creators than musicians.
Earlier, when I mentioned grinding, this is mainly what I meant – I basically “live off of” the Erasmus exchange programme of punk and noise of some sorts. When somebody asks for or needs a show in Budapest and I’m able to help, I’ll try my best, and when I go their way, I’ll drop them a line and hope for the best.
Back in the day, when there were far fewer ways to “communicate” and promote your music, it felt way more comfortable for me because there was much less signal-to-noise ratio in terms of finding good people or communicating with others. If you made good music, someone would write to say they’d like to promote it in some way, and a few months later you’d get your few tapes or vinyls and that was it. Now it feels more like bands and artists produce one song and try, or rather hope, for the best so that the algorithm shines on them so they can get a cheque. Not for me. I don’t even have that many proper releases anymore, because besides making music, running a label is too much of a hassle, and I don’t really send promos or demos to friends with labels either. But apart from me, yes, it’s very well connected if you put in the work.
Besides being a musician, you were also involved in several Budapest-based independent culture and music venues – like Gólya and Kripta – which were operating on a collective basis. Can you talk about this more organisational aspect of your work?
Working with others is very important for me. And I mean full caps WORKING. I guess it comes from my background and socially/politically aware upbringing (thanks, parents!), but I could never manage to survive in a job where I felt like just another cog in some bullshit factory machine. So when I went to be a sound guy at the old Gólya, I felt very much in my element. It was proper, honest work that we did for ourselves, and it felt great to be “off grid” from all the other shitty places where you could make music or work. Gólya is a hardcore cooperative, in the classic sense, so it was necessary to get involved and understand how you organise other people’s work and your own – and I learned a lot.
On the other hand, Kripta is way looser and is rather a collective. Both places are self-made and self-sustaining, but on a totally different basis. Gólya is a proper job and Kripta is what people would expect when you tell them you are a punk and you have a huge rehearsal room that others can visit sometimes.
An obvious question that comes to mind relates to politics, especially if we are talking about Hungary, where alternative culture has to function de facto without any state funding, mostly by choice, though there’s probably not much choice. Gólya and Kripta are both quite political spaces, can you talk about this?
It’s hard not to be political these days, haha. I mean, I don’t understand when people don’t care about what the fuck is going down around us. Sometimes, I feel as if everything you do or say these days needs to make a political point in order to keep things in check – well at least that’s how it is for me, so I can sleep at night.
Everybody knows that Hungary is a shit place (but it’s the best place), with a horrendous government (but where isn’t there one?) – not just this one, but all the ones before it. It’s nothing new; it’s partly the reason why people think of Hungarians as weirdos with a fucked-up sense of humour and attitude – and of course an alien-sounding language, but that’s not even their fault.
Someone started a review of one of my bands’ latest LPs with something like ‘shit governments breed good punk bands’ and unfortunately, that seems about right. That’s why places with people who are fed up and actually stand up to make a difference feel so out of place or extreme, even though we’re not shitting Spanish wax (i.e. doing something extraordinary – it’s a Hungarian saying, I swear), we’re just doing the same thing that everyone else in social centres, squats and other activism-fuelled places do in other countries, but perhaps as a Sisyphean uphill race or something, all under the radar so nobody tries to ruin your oasis in the middle of this tornado of diarrhoea and glass shards we call daily life.
Being part of the DIY underground music scene, but now also SHAPE+, which is a publicly funded platform, how do you perceive these seemingly different worlds of running music projects?
I quit my job recently after many years to focus solely on music full-time. It’s pretty new for me—being out in the wild with no knowledge of how to actually survive by either making music for myself, or helping others create and/or archive their own sonic endeavours. I don’t think I’m leaving the underground to get famous with something that is publicly funded, but at least I’m not doing the same thing in Hungary, where I’d have to grovel for a few cents that’ve been taken out of other people’s pockets, or funds that they should be using to renovate our schools or hospitals. [To Hungarian musicians who live off government funding: I have nothing against you, semmi személyes.]
It’s also something I’ve never tried before, but it feels empowering: being able to travel to other places and play music for people who most likely wouldn’t know about me otherwise because I’m shit at promoting myself, haha – full circle!
How do you see your future as a musician / music organiser / music activist?
It’s going to be fine. I don’t have a lot to lose, except my dignity, I guess? Deep breath ~~~
Interview by Lucia Udvardyova