INTERVIEW: MANOID

With I_N_T_E_R_V_A_L_S, MANOID steps into the quiet spaces most of us rush past — the subtle thresholds between one emotion and the next, the pauses that shape what comes before and after. Built entirely on hardware synthesizers and guided by instinct rather than theory, the album captures moments of internal stillness and transforms them into sound: warm, tactile, and deeply human.

Across its tracks, MANOID blurs memory with experimentation, pairing futuristic textures with the emotional weight of nostalgia. Each composition is mirrored by a written fragment of personal history, crafted in collaboration with dramaturg Magdalena Koryntczyk, revealing a world where music and storytelling become inseparable reflections of the same inner landscape. The voice of Milkbaby — intimate, precise, and vulnerable — adds yet another layer, grounding the record in a raw emotional sincerity.

As the founder of Instytut Dźwięku and co-founder of holyklang, MANOID moves freely between education, experimentation, and artistic independence. And with I_N_T_E_R_V_A_L_S now entering its live phase — minimal, narrative-driven, and visually restrained — he invites listeners into a shared moment of pause.

In this conversation, we explore the instincts, tensions, and personal experiences that shaped his most introspective work to date.

Your new album “I_N_T_E_R_V_A_L_S” explores the idea of moments of “stopping” — the pauses between beginnings and endings. How did you translate such an abstract concept into sound and structure?

It may sound abstract, but the process was surprisingly instinctive. Each time I entered the studio, I searched for sounds that made me slow down — a chord or timbre that softened the body, deepened the breath, cleared the mental static. When that small internal shift happened, I knew I’d found something worth following. That sensation became the album’s true architecture.

You created the entire album using hardware synthesizers. What does working with physical machines offer you that digital tools cannot, especially in terms of emotional connection and spontaneity?

Absolutely. Staring at a screen triggers this constant micro-dopamine loop — information, distraction, stimulus. Hardware short-circuits all of that and brings me back to pure listening. It silences the visual noise. And there’s a genuine relationship that forms between you and a machine you touch, tune, and negotiate with. That tension fuels creativity. On this record, the Waldorf M and Elektron Syntakt felt almost like collaborators.

Each track is accompanied by a written story drawn from personal memories. Could you share how this storytelling process influenced the composition of the music itself?

After composing most of the album, I tried to articulate what was happening inside me. A literal description didn’t feel right, so I started revisiting personal memories — moments where I found myself suspended between one emotional state and the next. I sent the fragments to dramaturg Magdalena Koryntczyk, who added her own reflections and shaped everything into this poetic, drifting narrative. Suddenly the music and the text felt like two sides of the same experience.

The collaboration with Milkbaby brings a visceral, human layer to the record. How did your creative dialogue with her develop, and what did her voice add to the emotional landscape of the album?

While writing the tracks, I kept hearing these central melodic lines in my head — I’d record rough vocal sketches into my phone (and trust me, they’re not something the world needs to hear). I felt that the human voice would deliver the most direct emotional impact. Milkbaby’s voice was the missing element from the start. It just clicked. There were moments during the sessions when the atmosphere became surprisingly tender.

There’s a clear tension in the album between nostalgia and futuristic sound design. How do you balance these two forces — memory and innovation — in your artistic practice?

Nostalgia and futurism are both deeply satisfying to me. That friction — emotional warmth against more experimental, textured sound design — is exactly what draws me in. Balancing memory and innovation isn’t something I calculate; it’s more like letting those two currents shape each other in real time.

You’ve described the record as a reflection on hope, anxiety, and delight. Were there specific personal experiences or emotional states that shaped these sonic narratives?

Those “moments of stopping” are, for me, where hope, anxiety, and delight intersect. It’s a threshold space — ambiguous but strangely grounding. It feels very human, because life rarely presents emotions in clean categories. We navigate these internal crossroads all the time. Tracks like Love Letter and Moonsong were written directly out of that liminal state.

As the founder of Instytut Dźwięku and co-founder of holyklang, how do your educational and label activities feed back into your own artistic evolution?

Instytut Dźwięku has grown into the largest electronic music school in Poland, and that stability gives me a rare freedom: I don’t have to chase trends or tailor my sound to the market. I can remain fully independent artistically. The label is really just a continuation of that ethos — a space where experimentation doesn’t have to justify itself.

Looking ahead, how do you envision the live presentation of “I_N_T_E_R_V_A_L_S”? Do you see it as a purely musical experience, or will it also expand into performance and visual art, as your work with Milkbaby suggests?

Because the album is so intimate, the live format needs to reflect that. We’re keeping things minimal — restrained light, a focus on sound and narrative, creating a shared sense of pause. At the Warsaw premiere, in an old cinema hall surrounded by processed VHS visuals by Marta Kaczmarek (who also created the cover), we were able to pull the audience into the world of “intervals.” 

MANOID: Instagram - Soundcloud - Facebook - Website - Spotify

Milkbaby: Instagram - Spotify

holyklang: Website