The Austrian artist takes us through the electronic playground of the SMEM with a beautiful melody-driven 8-track on -OUS.
Techno icon Richie Hawtin once remarked, “It’s not about what the equipment does, but what you can do through the equipment – that’s where the soul is.” Few artists embody this mindset quite like Oliver Thomas Johnson, aka Dorian Concept.
Celebrated for his innovative fusion of jazz, hip-hop, and electronic music, Johnson first made his name in the early YouTube days with captivating performances on synths such as the Microkorg and SH-101 around 2008-9.
His deep connection to jazz and his appreciation of improvisational geniuses like John Coltrane have shaped his approach to performance into one of freeform creativity and technical precision.
From releasing on premier labels such as Ninja Tune and Brainfeeder to working with the likes of Flying Lotus and the Cinematic Orchestra, Dorian Concept’s love for collaboration and deep knowledge of the musical process has earned him a solid reputation within electronic music.
Back in December, the Vienna-based producer released his first full-length project since 2022: Music In A Room Full Of Synths. Created in collaboration with the Swiss Museum of Electronic Music (SMEM), Johnson was granted access to its extraordinary collection of synths spanning multiple eras to create the EP.
Across the album’s 8 tracks, Johnson utilises the vast array of synths from all eras in the incredible SMEM archive as part of an ongoing series of releases commissioned by the museum.
The record offers a broad juxtaposition in terms of sonics and structure. Signature Dorian Concept elements such as strong, swelling synth leads, wobbly chord progressions and layers of dizzying circuit-bent sound effects are present throughout, while tracks like The Touch and Novelty pull you between vibrant and organic melodies and deep, hazy soundscapes that envelop the listener into a semi-conscious world of bleeping synths and reverb-drenched dreamscapes.
Despite his incredible ability, Johnson downplays himself as ‘not a gear guy’, but this record, along with the rest of his career, seems to prove otherwise. If he doesn’t know the technical know-how behind the instruments he uses, it seems he has something better: a right-brain approach to electronic music and an innate ability to pull the soul out of any synth he touches.
He spoke with //SNCMAG later in the month and shared his experiences in this wired and wonderful place.
Where are you calling from?
Vienna, Austria.
Are you based there all the time, or do you travel a lot?
Yeah, I’m based here most of the time. I do a bit of travelling, but it’s very sporadic, with shows all over the place. I’m at the point now where I’m playing lots of different stuff, from club shows to jazz festivals, shows with ensembles, etc. I guess I’m in a weird spot when it comes to shows.
2024 has been a diverse year for you, then?
It’s been like this since COVID; the longer I’ve been doing this, the more I have tried things out and collaborated. When I started, I always played my stuff solo. But now, there are times when I’m just the keys player or the synth guy.
I’ve currently got this set-up where I’m just looping stuff, so I can do more experimental improvised sets with that, which has been fun.
Do you prefer taking a collaborative approach compared to the solo stuff?
Honestly, it depends. I’m sensitive to who I work with, so I need to like someone to want to work with them. Maybe it’s a bit of a myth, but I feel some people believe that friction can make something interesting. Or perhaps it’s just an old mindset that’s persisted over time. I’m not sure.
I realise now that the older I get, the more I prefer harmony. I can subscribe to the fact that sometimes you have disputes when it comes to an aesthetic thing or when you try to stand up for an idea because stuff like that is important. I just prefer to spend time with people who work in a similar way to me.
The right energy is essential.
Hundred per cent. Maybe it’s because we have such a past with authoritarian figures that we are still collectively sifting through. Still, suppose you’re fortunate enough to have the choice; avoiding toxic people or complicated work environments is probably best – especially in the creative fields.
That’s an interesting point. Is that a shared sensibility in Austria based on its past, or are those your more personal thoughts?
Vienna is an interesting place when it comes to music. There’s a deep music history here around super old-school classical music. Still, in recent times, there are many artists here who aren’t part of big groups or genres. Individualist is a lame term, but that’s what they are essentially. Artists like Christian Fennesz, for example, or the Migo label, and a band that I rate Radian. They exist on the fringes and don’t need an environment to connect with people; they do their own thing.
The one thing I’ve always felt about Vienna is that it has always been good at that. It’s also changed a lot. There are scenes here, but there’s room for people primarily interested in having a reclusive place to do their own thing.
Let’s talk about the project. Is it an EP or an album?
That’s a good question. It feels like an album, but it’s only around 20 minutes. Maybe I’m a bit old school, but I don’t think you can call something an album if it’s only 20 minutes. Still, it tells a story.
How did your relationship with the SMEM develop, and how did this opportunity come about?
I attended a Red Bull Music Academy event in Zurich in 2019, where I played with Floating Points. I’d forgotten its name, but it was a space full of synthesisers and electronic music enthusiasts. We played a show there, and then I hosted a workshop the next day.
I’ve known an artist there for quite some time, Manuel Oberholzer (Feldermelder), who is part of the -OUS label. He was the one who initially told me about this museum. I remember him saying that they would be interested in inviting me if I were up for it. He said they had just had Legowelt over for a residency and that part of it would be to release a record. I could record wherever I wanted. It sounded fun.
Was it recorded back then, or more recently?
Yeah, it all happened quite quickly. It was recorded in August 2020 and is about four years old. The COVID awkwardness delayed things a lot, and I also had another album lined up with Brainfeeder at the time, and we didn’t know how to time things. But now it’s out, and I’m happy.
I don’t know why, but it often happens with my songs that they end up lying around for so long. I once released a single called Toothbrush, and I think I had the demo done around 2010. Then we printed it, and it ended up lying around for another two years. In the end, we had to scratch out the year on the single. It’s weird; sometimes, it takes time to put stuff out with me.
What are your thoughts about the project now after all this time?
I’m super happy that it’s out, and I’ve been pleasantly surprised about how it’s been received up until now. It’s quite different in sound and approach from my previous work because it was the first project I recorded outside my home studio. It was also the first project where I didn’t have the option to meticulously comb through the arrangements, etc.
For the 10 days I was there, I decided to make a track each day despite not knowing how many would be released. Once I listened to it, though, I immediately knew we had to put it out.
I was surprised by the reception because part of me was unsure if it felt too raw or if I should have mixed things differently or added bits. But I’m glad I didn’t—it always loses something. Looking back, I’ve never gained anything good from trying to get in between myself and the music, so I’m super happy that it resonates with people.
That’s the funny thing about art; once it goes into the world, you have no control over it. No matter how meticulous you are, you can’t dictate how it’s received. The audience is going to feel how they want to think about it. That’s what’s scary and exciting about it.
Another layer we don’t talk about is the artist’s relationship with the music and how it can distort things in that process. Sometimes, music gets portrayed as something that demands a commercial approach. Trying to make music that other people will like. In many instances, this is probably the case. Still, people can be a good indicator of what you’re good at.
I’ve noticed this with myself, too. For a long time, I was obsessed with the thought of “it’s me and my music,” it was like we were up against the world in a way. I always felt I had to maintain this intense relationship, and I put everyone else out of the equation.
This project was different for me because I had the courage to put it out against all my perfectionist tendencies. Now, I’m constantly questioning them—not trying to work against them or fight them, but deliberately trying to do things a little differently because of them.
Looking back at previous albums, I can see how I’ve distorted many things. Some are just wholly overworked and are examples of how I’ve gotten between myself and the music. I realise now that getting between myself and the music means putting myself between the music and the people.
I think that’s been the most beautiful part of this project—I didn’t have as much time to spend on it. There’s not as much of me between the music and the people. So that’s why it’s interesting to see that people have enjoyed it, and even if they didn’t, I don’t take it personally. Maybe it’s because I’m not too invested in it, so it doesn’t hurt as much.
This seems like a therapeutic experience for you as well. The overcoming of self-placed barriers based on your vision of what a musician should be. Has this experience led to the recent collaborative approach you have taken?
Hundred per cent! One of those experiences contributed to my trying to see everything more holistically. Up until now, I have always separated things in a certain way.
I would record videos of myself playing a synthesiser for social media, then work on an album, and then go and work on a live show. It always felt like all these separate tasks, but this just felt like I was playing music.
It was a mixture of rehearsing and learning this gear that I didn’t really know and then just recording things without click tracks and parts, and so it took on this whole jammy live feeling.
I also had people come in and out during the process. Another friend of mine who did some videos and pictures would sometimes mess with an effects pedal or something while I was playing, so there was also this collaborative component. This experience has helped me to try to avoid separating everything.
How did you feel when you walked into the SMEM for the first time, and how did you navigate your way through that cacophony of synths? Were there any machines you felt drawn to from memory, and how did you navigate the space?
I think it was kind of like Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, where you try to do it all. Some were just unplugged, and yeah, some weren’t even serviced.
It’s a crazy story because the instruments are all part of a private collection. They belong to a Swiss actor who eventually needed to house them in a museum. It was just as fascinating as it was eerie because there were so many old instruments that held so many stories and were used by so many people.
It’s fascinating to think about instruments like the 303 or these other classic machines whose sounds have defined whole genres. Sometimes, you’ll have a chord playing with a preset, and you’ll know where it’s from and what it is. I just had to go more intuitively through the whole place.
I love the album’s sound design. It has many organic sounds and textures. Did you know which synths could make those sounds, or was that all intuition?
I had the SH-101, which was also a synthesiser that I’ve used a lot previously. That was like the cockpit of the spaceship I flew around the space in. I felt safe with that, and that was important.
I tried the rest of them without knowing or having any deep knowledge. I didn’t look at any manuals or anything. People always see me playing the synthesisers, but I’ve never done a gear-related channel. I’ve always been ignorant about synths. I know the basic stuff, filters, oscillators, etc., but I’ve never gone too deep.
I’ve always taken a more intuitive approach, and that’s also what I did then. It was more a case of just flipping on the switch and seeing what happened.
Sometimes, a carefree approach brings the best results.
Yeah, exactly. At the end of the day, if you use your ears and your judgment is intact, it becomes a trust thing. It also depends on the relationship between you and the music. What are you expecting from the music? The less I expect of it, the more it surprises me.
What’s next for Dorian Concept?
Good question. As mentioned, I’m still trying to combine everything I enjoy doing. I’ve gotten into videography, video editing, and video synthesis and started making my own music videos. I’m thinking of combining that with some of the more performance-based videos I’ve been making. I could even take a long-form performance of myself and turn it into a short film.
I’ve also started self-releasing, so I want to keep opening these little doors for myself where it doesn’t take four to five years to release music. I want to be more spontaneous and stick to the more gutsy, improvisational approach I enjoy.
Sounds exciting. Have you ever thought about live AV performances?
I’ve done one in Zurich, where I met Manuel and the others. While I was performing, four different USB webcams were around the synthesisers, and a MaxMSP patch was triggering them. A friend of mine, Gerhard Senz (PRCLS), designed the whole thing, and then we fine-tuned all the aesthetic stuff together.
It was an incredible experience. We just used straightforward video effects to get interesting results. That could also make sense again in the future, and that’s definitely a possibility.
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