English

Llumen

Door Xavier Kruth

09 oktober 2024
I can’t really describe how it feels when you become a kind of expert by experience because of the suicide of one of your loved ones, but it is the thought of loneliness and not finding another way out that sticks with

Llumen has released their third album ‘The Breaking Waves’ in May. It has become an exceptionally strong future pop album, which revolves around the ebb and flow of life, and which is interspersed with the personal experiences of mastermind Pieter Coussement, ranging from his difficult recovery from two minor heart attacks years ago, to the struggle with psychological problems and the suicide of his own brother.

Yet ‘The Breaking Waves’ is not just a deeply sad record full of serious reflections. It is also an extremely successful electro record that will undoubtedly make you dance. We have the honor to have Llumen as a guest at the Dark Entries Night on October 12, 2024, a performance in the city where Pieter lives and works. It was an opportunity for us to ask Pieter Coussement a few questions about his project.

Hi Pieter. You recently released your third album ‘The Breaking Waves’. Congratulations, I think it’s a very successful work. I understand that there is a deeper concept behind the album. Can you explain to us what that concept is?

Thank you Xavier, the songs on ‘The Breaking Waves’ often had a hard time forming an album in my head. That's why ‘The Breaking Waves’ didn't start as an intended concept album, but rather became one along the way. I noticed that the lyrics I wrote were intertwined with seas and oceans, and that water as an element came to play an important role. Oceans and seas often become metaphors in my lyrics for both the good and the bad sides of my life. It was when I discovered the cover image, made by Emmanuel Snyers, that it all came together. That’s a kind of serendipity that I like to embrace.

The concept of ‘The Breaking Waves’ is based on a number of personal experiences from the past few years. What can you tell us about that, not only about the events, but also about how they inspired you to make ‘The Breaking Waves’?

When I reflect on my life, it is always ebb and flow. There are moments of great happiness and peace, and then there are all those other moments that weigh on my mind and sow unrest in my head. After ‘Polygon Heart’ I didn’t want to write another moody album, although I don’t think I succeeded this time either. But songs like ‘Desire’ and ‘Torn Skin’ are written from a positive desire rather than from a gloomy attitude. I do try to write from an autobiographical point of view. Often that starts with a single sentence that comes to mind, and that is then supplemented with a story that is somewhere between fiction and reality. My life is not always easy, and I am always looking for a good balance that I often don’t find. As a result, songs remain interspersed with hope and love, but are at the same time also characterized by sadness and disappointment. The duality between both extremes is something that my melancholic self has perhaps become too used to.

Your personal experiences also played tricks on you during the recording of its 2021 predecessor ‘Polygon Heart’, although I understand that the recording process was already well advanced when the problems arose. How did that affect the recording process?

This is quite a few years behind me now, but you consulted your sources well. It is true that after my first album I worked on the successor with great enthusiasm. However, somewhere halfway my heart decided otherwise. Two (small) heart attacks later I had to find myself again, which took a long time. It weighed on me. It took me almost two years to get back into my groove, not only mentally but also physically. My voice was severely tested by side effects of medication, and I actually had to learn to use my voice again. You can hear this here and there on the album. ‘Lifeline’ is the first song I wrote after a long mental battle, and it is therefore a song that is very close to my heart. When I sing it today, that feeling still prevails, and every syllable is 100 percent sincere.

How did Llumen actually come into being? I heard that the group originally consisted of three members, but that you later continued the project as the only member, from 2009 onwards.

A long time ago I had a band with Ivan Van der Herten, Sad CBA, which was then supplemented by my brother Joris. Afterwards we renamed it Llumen. But as is often the case, life gets in the way and ambitions grow somewhat apart. Everyone concentrated on their own path in life. I then decided to continue Llumen myself, because I cannot imagine a life without music. It is still high on my priority list. Without music, a part of me is missing. At the moment I take care of all the tasks, Joris plays live and Ivan is still a good sounding board. In fact, he still plays a little on every album. There is often still a piece of a lyric by him.

Your debut ‘The Memory Institute’ dates from 2017, with a preceding single in 2016. In other words, it took a long time before your debut was released. How come?

That has to do mainly with time pressure. During that period I was doing my PhD at the Institute for Psychoacoustics and Electronic Music (IPEM), and that took up a lot of time. That’s why it took a bit longer than planned.

On ‘The Breaking Waves’ you sing a bit in German in ‘Die Stille Totgeschwiegen’. Why did you do that? Was that a tough work, or do you have a good command of Goethe’s language? Have you ever considered singing in Dutch as well?

I heard the sentence ‘Ich habe die Stille totgeschwiegen’ somewhere (wrongly) in an Après-ski bar in Austria, and it stuck ever since. The sentence simply sounds very good in German as well as in Dutch, but lacks power in English. I also have a great affinity with German. I had pen pals in Germany from an early age, loved to look across the border as a teenager, went to the Wave-Gotik-Treffen (WGT) in Leipzig every year, was a big fan of Goethes Erben and Das Ich, and also had a grandmother who, in addition to Polish (which I can’t speak at all), had German as her mother tongue. So it wasn’t that big a task. Even the entire German version on the double album was written quite easily. Dutch is a language that doesn’t suit me for songs. I think more in English than in Dutch.

‘A Part Of Me With You’ is about your brother’s suicide. In a Facebook post about it, you wrote: ‘If you feel down in any way, talk to someone. If you feel you have nobody to talk to, reach out even to me, even if we've never met.’ Do you believe that we can prevent suicides by paying more attention to the mental health issues around us?

I would have liked to hope so of course. It was and is an open invitation to keep talking about what you feel. I sincerely believe that more attention to mental suffering can prevent a lot of sadness. Suicide in itself is of course a very drastic act, but what precedes it is, if possible, even worse. I can’t really describe how it feels when you become a kind of expert by experience because of the suicide of one of your loved ones, but it is the thought of loneliness and not finding another way out that sticks with me the most. It is also that which I think of most when I think of my brother, which also makes me feel very powerless and sad.

Several people have pointed out the standout track ‘Harbour’, which again has serious lyrics. Can you explain the deeper meaning of it? Is there also a reason why you put this song as the penultimate track on your record?

I actually put it as the last track on the CD. ‘At Nadir’ is the first track on the second CD, but with streaming services that is not so clear of course. ‘Harbour’ came about somewhere during a discussion. It is about being part of the same whole, but still not finding a connection, about wanting the same thing, but not succeeding in reconciling it, about the ocean as a driving force for good or for evil.

Can I say that your music evolved from classical and orchestral dark electro towards future pop in the years? I remember a time when future pop was often looked down upon – completely unfairly, by the way – even though it was hugely popular, or maybe just because of that. How do you look at this?

I do think I have evolved more and more towards future pop, or at least more complex electro. That has mainly to do with the fact that I can’t identify with the minimal trend that is (or was) prevalent. I like chord progressions and melodies. In my opinion, they get lost a bit if you stay in the more classic electro. Nothing wrong with that of course, but it is not something I can express myself in. Future pop simply lends itself more to telling stories. It is sometimes looked down on, but then it is also good to note that bands like VNV Nation, Covenant or Diorama – to name but a few – still manage to have an identity and continue to produce a series of timeless classics. I also just make what I want and don’t have to justify what style that would or wouldn’t be. If you take the new Implant, or the latest from Haujobb, you know that pigeonholing is not necessary.

‘The Breaking Waves’ did well in the German Electronic WebCharts (GEWC). You were number 4 there for two weeks. Did you experience much of a consequence from that?

We entered the GEWC at number 7 and a week later we were at number 4 with Diary of Dreams, Solar Fake and Funker Vogt above us. We also held out at number 4 for the entire period, something I am proud of. Unfortunately, I don’t really see any consequences of that. I have the impression that organizers are more concerned with Instagram likes and Facebook.

You have a PhD in musicology. Now I am no longer surprised that people with a thorough knowledge of music also get involved with metal, rock, pop and even electro. But can you explain to us how these studies have influenced your work as an electro musician?

It may sound counterintuitive, but it is mainly by writing my PhD that I started experimenting less in Llumen. When you do the craziest musical experiments every day at your job, you are sometimes glad that you can just focus on writing a song instead of doing a new kind of embodied sound experiment. Of course, that urge to experiment is still contained in Llumen songs and I love to keep looking for new ways to generate sounds and images.

When I hear that you were able to play the Mechanismus Festival in Seattle twice, in the United States, and recently also performed in Germany, the United Kingdom and the Netherlands, I wonder why you can’t perform more often in Belgium. I’m glad that it can happen on a Dark Entries Night, because I also expect that a lot of people want to see you here. How do you look at that?

Well, I’m kind of giving up trying to find an explanation for that. I think Belgium is a difficult country to find gigs in. Abroad, however, it’s not much easier. It really takes effort to get gigs. Most of the time it’s all about likes and exposure on social media. It might be a joke, but all the time you put into your socials, you don’t put into your music.

I’m looking forward to playing in my hometown. It’s been a long time, so we’ve made sure that October 12th will be something really special.

Live, Llumen consists of three people. Can you introduce your band members and their role in the group?

We are indeed back with three live, Joris is ‘back’ there, and he takes care of visuals and light. We also play this aspect live. Manu plays synths and makes sure that nothing goes wrong technically. It is more fun to perform with friends anyway.

Llumen will play on Saturday October 12th at a Dark Entries Night, together with The Ultimate Dreamers, in the Kinky Star, Ghent, 8pm, free entrance.

Llumen: website / Facebook / bandcamp (Alfa Matrix)

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Over Xavier Kruth

Xavier Kruth bekeerde zich al op jonge leeftijd tot het gothicdom. Toen hij begon te puberen, moest hij lang zagen om een zwarte broek te mogen hebben. Toen hij tegenover zijn moeder argumenteerde dat hij gewoon om een zwarte broek vroeg, niet om zijn haar omhoog te doen in alle richtingen, repliceerde ze dat als hij nu een zwarte broek zou krijgen, hij daarna toch zijn haar torenhoog omhoog zou doen. Xavier was versteld over de telepathische vermogens van zijn moeder. Hij leerde destijds ook gitaar spelen, en sinds 2006 speelt hij in donkere kroegen met zijn melancholische kleinkunstliedjes in verschillende talen. In 2011 vervoegde Xavier het team van Dark Entries. In Dark Entries las hij ook dat The Marchesa Casati (gothic rock) een gitarist zocht, en zo kon hij een paar keer met de groep optreden. Later speelde hij bij Kinderen van Moeder Aarde (sjamanische folk) en werkte samen met Gert (kleinpunk). En het belangrijkste van al: in 2020 bracht hij samen met Dark Entries-collega Gerry Croon de plaat ‘Puin van dromen’ uit onder de naam Winterstille.

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