In TM’s Atelier – Episode 1: Composition Atelier

 



In this profile photo, the person on the right is TM — the main composer of the duo.







A music that makes you go, “Wait, what’s this?”


Recently, through our collaboration with Kitchen. Label, our album Le Cube Dans Mon Rêve was released.

Since then, we’ve found ourselves receiving increasing attention from the media — something we never really expected.


So I thought it might be helpful to share a few thoughts that could serve as background notes for journalists,

and perhaps give some listeners a way to enjoy our music even more deeply once they know what lies behind it.

That’s why I decided to start this series — a set of short reflections where I’ll open a small window into my personal path.


When a wider audience or the media shows interest in us — in both of us — it still feels quite surprising.

FMT was born more than ten years ago as a project of “musical self-sufficiency.”

I had stopped encountering music that moved me anymore.


For me, a desirable piece of music is one that carries its own inner strength —

but also that sudden spark of surprise, the kind that makes you say,

“Wait… what’s this?”

A work that gently disorients you.

The mere reproduction of existing styles has never interested me.



Every sound has a reason.


Here on FMT Website, we publish detailed production notes for every track —

something rather uncommon in the music scene.

Most musicians prefer to remain silent and leave interpretation entirely to the listener.

We do almost the opposite.


Of course, interpretation always belongs to whoever listens.

But FMT rests on an imagined architecture — a sort of musical cubism —

that shapes our compositional methods and the very structure of sound itself.


Our ultimate criterion is simple:

that both of us can say, “We’ve never heard this before.”

From composition to mixing, each step rests on deliberate, explainable choices.

For every sound, there is a reason.


And once I start talking about it, connections begin to multiply —

relations to past pieces, echoes of other artists, meanings within musical history,

and links to other art forms.

If I didn’t stop myself, I could probably write endlessly. (That’s precisely why I force myself to pause — haha.)


Our hope, of course, is that the music can be enjoyed without knowing any of this —

that it remains surprising and pleasurable on its own.

Still, I believe that understanding a few of these layers might allow some to listen with deeper joy.

That’s why I write.


(To be continued)


→ Episode 2: Geometry on Five Lines


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