B°TONG Interview

 

B°TONG is the Swiss project of Chris Sigdell, shaped through a long period of work within experimental music and informed by his years in NID between 1995 and 2005, as well as by his role as vocalist and bass player in Leaden Fumes, experiences that established a direct and demanding relationship with sound understood as something physical and deliberate rather than expressive decoration. In his solo work, B°TONG moves between ambient electronic music and musique concrète through a clear and methodical approach grounded in careful listening, precise editing, and the conscious use of recorded material and texture, resulting in compositions that unfold with internal coherence and restraint, avoiding fixed genre habits while maintaining a steady focus on process, structure, and continuity, defining a project that reflects accumulated experience, discipline, and a sustained personal vision. Chris has answered some very interesting questions for this First Issue. 

How would you describe the exact moment when B°TONG stopped being a project and became a presence? What was the first sound that obsessed you in your childhood and how does it still resonate in your work?

OK, let me begin with the second question – I remember, as a child, I had to go for walks in the neighborhood when we visited my German grandmother. That neighborhood was the industrial area of Mannheim, where all the chemical industry was situated. So, when I walked through that area, all these puffs and steams and weird little noises had a huge impact on me. And later, when I discovered industrial music, it resonated with those childhood memories and fantasies. When I finally began making similar music of my own, I naturally was drawn back to that. I daresay it still resonates in my work today, subconsciously. When NID drifted apart, and I looked for a name to continue by myself, B°TONG was just a name, a project. I’d say it stayed that way for a long time, until I began to work with spirituality. The moment I started recording immediate soundscapes with guitar and synthesizer, the moment I began to listen to my spirit and my muse, that’s when B°TONG became a presence. And that moment was when I began the recording of A Fleeting Moment Of Superabundance. I changed my fundamental approach to recording and began to use instant inspiration rather than relying on pre-fabricated samples.

When you build a piece, do you think in terms of architecture, emotion or energy? How do you understand the difference between "music" and "sound"? Where are the borders drawn and why are you interested in blurring them?

Nowadays, composing relies a lot on instant inspiration – emotion and energy. After laying down the first tracks, the rest is architecture. Building, constructing, adding and taking away, until a complete picture appears. I’d say B°TONG is more music now than just sounds. The difference is I now really play instruments and don’t just create musique concrete with samples. The sounds may not be recognizable as such anymore, but they were played by hand, which to me makes it music. The blurring part comes by adding effects and the odd sample here and there.

In "Structures" there seems to be a search for sound geometry, as if noises and drones formed invisible architectures. What concept or vision led you to build this album in that way? 

God, Structures was created such a long time ago. I was still in the process of finding my own voice. I cannot recall I had a concept, let alone a vision, except that I was looking for the dark side of sound. At that time, I just created a lot of separate pieces and only later thought about what would fit on an album, just like the ordinary rock musician I also was besides B°TONG.

"Hysteria" sounds like a fractured emotional landscape, almost clinical in its tension. What role does psychological disorder or the idea of "collective hysteria" play in the sound narrative of this album?

Hysteria started with an idea. It was the first album with a concept, in a way, if only a remote concept. Water was very important, hollow caves and the feeling of loneliness. But what sparked it off was the idea of using Zarah Leander and totally deconstructing her famous line Ich Weiss es wird einmal ein Wunder geschehn. I then accidentally stumbled upon all these sounds and samples which made it possible to construct the whole album as a concept. The title is a pun on Norwegian punk band Betonghysteria. It deals more with alienation and loneliness rather than any hysteria, though it is hysterical at times. 

If you had to describe the main philosophical and aesthetic difference between "Structures" and "Hysteria", what would be the core that separates or connects them?

At its core, I’d say with Hysteria I had found a voice of my own, whereas with Structures I still took my first steps as creator of my own musical world. 

If B°TONG could be defined by a single frequency, what would it be and why? How do you experience the fact that your music, at times, can generate anxiety, trance or liberation?

When, once upon a time, I played live in Brussels, I was told a woman began to cry in the middle of performance, and it bothered me initially. Nowadays I can use it and do not trigger such feelings by accident. They are part of what I create and experiment with. The music is supposed to be uncomfortable while still being trance-like or meditative, and liberate the spirit. The most important frequency would be the low frequency. It can bring calm and be disturbing at the same time. Much more so than higher frequencies, which just tend to become annoying.

What emotions do you find most difficult to represent acoustically? What is the relationship between your work and the idea of "residual memory"? Can the sound be a grave or an exhumation?

For me, happiness is most difficult to express acoustically. In my whole musical career, I’ve always found it easier to represent the darker aspects of emotions – anger, depression, sadness, the feelings of loss and regret. I am not sure I completely understand the meaning of residual memory, so I cannot say much on that topic, but sound can be both a grave and an exhumation as far as I am concerned. Some might get buried by certain sounds, while others feel like being exhumed, re-born. It’s the power of music. 

Is there any philosophy, spiritual current, or esoteric tradition that secretly dialogues with your work? Do you think your albums are closer to funerary art, sacred art or trauma archaeology?

There is definitely a philosophy, spiritual current and esoteric tradition that speaks through my more recent work. I deliberately play with it too. Nihilism, Buddhism, Zen… the concept of nothingness, it has a big influence on my life and my art. I would wish my albums are closer to the sacred art, but cannot vouch for what comes from my muse... 

How has your perception of time changed since you have been working with drones and extended sound layers? Are you more interested in deterioration, repetition, or transformation?

I have begun to question the relevance of time. I have come to believe that time is a figment of the human mind. It may very well be that it is totally irrelevant to the universe as such. Maybe past, present and future are all instantly available? I hope such ideas reflect in my music. At least I have come to neglect working under specific time frames, except I still believe an album ideally should not exceed 45 minutes, and I see that individual pieces do not exceed the 20+ minutes you can fit on one side of a vinyl. So, yes, these days I am very much interested in repetition (sometimes some element appears on individual tracks), deterioration and transformation through giving music the space it needs.

What do you find in distortion that you don't find in the melody? What did you learn from your most intense collaborations, and which one challenged you the most?

I don’t do many collaborations, so… I suppose any collaboration, where the other person tries to dominate the session would be challenging, as I have a strong vision when it comes to making music. Distortion is nice but not necessary, at least not for B°TONG. When I play in my doom band, distortion is very important. But overall, the melody comes first. Distortion can be the icing of the cake.

In your performances you use everyday objects and industrial materials. What symbolism is behind this choice? What has been the most unexpected or revealing moment you experienced on stage? 

Contrary to my home-studio recordings, yes, I use everyday objects to reproduce my soundscapes live. There is no fundamental symbolism. I just found this was a way of separating myself from other artists in this genre. Also, the audience is always positively surprised and astonished, upon seeing me perform with these unusual objects. As there’s no laptop, no synthesizer with pre-fabricated soundscapes, they watch me literally create the soundscapes on the spot. It is this a very positive experience at every performance - especially now I also wear a mask while playing, which constantly seems to stare back at the audience. This leads to funny reactions. Also there’s always one or two that come to the stage afterwards, to have a closer look at my set-up and/or discuss the various gadgets. The mask was the most unexpected moment for me. I would never have thought it would become such a defining moment of the live show. I only started that a few years ago. I could never go back. It has become B°TONG.

What is the essential difference between your studio recordings and your live performances? Have you felt that a specific place in the world changed your sound? Are there geographies that resonate with you the most?

It used to be that the place defined the performance. Especially in the beginning, when I more or less improvised a set. For many years now, I play a strict live composition. This can vary according to the specific sound situation at different places, the quality of a PA, the acoustics of the individual room… sometimes it can be a real challenge to perform a good set. I now try and re-imagine various pieces from albums - before what I did live and what I did in the studio were two separate pair of shoes. The difference now is the way the sounds are produced. As for geographies… I have played in churches, synagogues, caves and found that to be very special places. Other than that, no, no geographical place that is better than any other. I practice before I go and play live, in order to give the best I can, no matter where in the world I perform.

"The Long Journey" seems to resonate with cosmic loneliness and unexplained events like the X-ray bursts of Sagittarius A. Do you consider your album as a sound translation of the erratic behaviour of the universe, or is it more of an internal journey through personal abysses?

The Long Journey was indeed a dive into and a translation of the sound of the universe. It was not entirely a concept album though, as the record-label suggested slight changes from the original album. But it can function as an internal journey as well. My soundscapes always can…

If the increasing activity of a black hole contradicts its expected stillness, do you think your music on The Long Journey also acts as an emotional anomaly within experimental dark ambient, something that glows brightly from the darkness for no apparent reason?

Yes, why not. This is actually a nice idea!

"Zenihilist" combines two apparent extremes: the levity of nihilism and the contemplation of Zen. How do you manage to make that contrast harmonious in a sound context, without falling into empty irony or sterile solemnity?

Ah, this is a difficult one. To be honest, I don’t know. I just tried and seemed to succeed in doing it. It times, and then I swing to being this rather contemplative and zen individual.

The improvisation and "composition in the moment" are central to this album. Do you think spontaneous sound can reveal a deeper truth than planned music? Or does chaos only become art when the performer erases himself?

Yes, I discovered it to be more revealing and deeper than how I worked before.

It is essential to erase the self, become one with the muse, and disappear the ego. After the initial “composition in the moment”, the ego may return and steer the music to its final destination. I am very happy to have discovered this method of composing. It opens up new worlds. 

To say that you see life as a joke, does your music become existential laughter or post-metaphysical whisper? Is "Zenihilist" a dissolution of meaning... or its affirmation by other means?

Zenihilist is both a dissolution AND an affirmation of meaning - existential laughter AND post-metaphysical whisper. I display certain ideals and ideas, that exist in both religion and philosophy, in a humorous way (I hope) - for yes, life is a joke. The universe is so unfathomably vast, so how can we even begin to think, that we are of any importance?

What place does death occupy, not only as a biological end, but as a concept, in your sound work and in your personal experience as a creator of landscapes that seem to emerge from the threshold between being and dissolution?

Death may be only the biological end of existence. I don’t think that there is a real death. Oblivion. But at the same time, I wish it was. Total dissolution as a means of escape from the responsibility that comes with whatever there is after death. So, the concept of death occupies a vast space in my art.

After 20 years of exploring sound as a language of the abyss, do you feel like you're getting closer to some form of truth... or that each new album is just a different way of inhabiting the same uncertainty?

Indeed, I do feel like I am getting closer to some form of truth, especially with the last three albums I made. I feel like the new way of composing opens up my spirit and lead to some fundamental change in my perception of reality. I am getting on to something; I need yet to see what.

If the entire universe were a meaningless vibrational field, as some suggest, what drives you to keep creating? Is it a form of spiritual resistance, an act of play... or a ritual so as not to forget that we are alive?

I’d say it’s a form of spiritual resistance.

Before closing this conversation, please tell me us about upcoming albums, collaborations and live performances? …. And Thank you for answering our questions Chris! 

In November I will continue my Zenihilist – 20 years of B°TONG tour and I already have some shows and festival appearances scheduled for 2026. A new album is also in the works, but it needs to be completed and mastered before I present it to any label for possible release. There is no rush for me though, as both Zenihilist (Krater Recordings) and {Mass} (Zoharum) are still quite recent releases. Bu.d.d.A. or Bund des dritten Auges would be the only collaboration thing going on at the moment - though it really is a project of its own, and features Sascha Stadlmeier on violin and samples plus myself on guitar and vocals. We play meditative drone music and hope to record a new album sometime next year. Also no rush there – we just released an album on Drone Records this year. “13” by the way IS a collaboration... it was made together with prolific German drone guitarist N (Hellmut Neidhardt). Thank you too, for these interesting questions!

B°TONG

https://btong.bandcamp.com