Neon Maximalism, Transient Escapism and Expression through Process: Tzusan’s Ponzu
Tzusan and I recently met on a rainy afternoon down the pub. This wasn’t our first conversation. I have known him for a couple of years now, as “Tzusan” and, alongside, his regular self. He denies having an alias and despite my belief that most artists, especially performers, do, he has that rare quality of consistency. Whether spitting out statements on a lager-stained stage or poaching an egg in a Sunday rush, he is throughout, for the most part, himself. Some just can’t help but be real, take it or leave it, here, there and wherever. With rain dripping down my back I went to say hello, sit him down and ask him about his latest project - Ponzu.
The long-awaited solo album was something you either knew he was working on or should’ve known about; however, you now have the joy TO see that it - a true and real result of “blood, sweat, tears and piss..literal piss” “and sick?” “oh and sick” - has come to fruition. Tzusan shows his love for details, romanticism and drama with the decision to release it on his birthday.
One thing you have to know about Tzusan is he cares - a lot, and about lots of things. Whether you agree on these things is your business, but you can’t help but admire the passion he carries with him. With that in mind, I feel grateful that I too am a strong character and walk into this conversation as casually as I can, hoping to slyly tease some insight out of him.
Tzusan is in good spirits. Excited for the release, probably more than his birthday (it's the 5th of February by the way, so by the time you hopefully read this you can, and should, go listen). He has just left another interview, his incompetence of London trains does not falter his energy.
“How’d you start?”
“How does anyone start? You just gravitate towards it.”
Edinburgh-born, Brighton living, London visiting, UK hopping - Tzusan has, like a flower leaning to sunlight, been drawn to the music world since he can remember. Being involved in different scenes for upwards of 10 years, a wide flock of talented peers surround him, and there's a shared instinct to create.
This doesn’t mean it's easy. In fact, I would describe Tzusan as a bit of a musical migrant, travelling down to Brighton to find a sense of grassroots community and something as simple as enough venues open to actually play at.
“Edinburgh made me, and my music is a reflection of me, so of course it's in there..”
Tzusan is a bit jaded when talking of the Scottish music scene. Who can blame him? He mentions Studio 24 and Henry’s Cellar bar, mid-size, smaller, music-focused spaces which are now, well...closed. The Scottish music scene, “strangled”, results in a Glasgow-centric approach - unsustainable and in ways inaccessible for both those trying to do what they love or even just begin.
It adds a level of difficulty when working in the niche world of Scottish rap. Self-described as a “bit of an oxymoron” - not many know what to expect or can even think of what it sounds like. The Scottish identity has had a bit of a revamp in recent years with people ever seeking authentic identity - and yet music is still something that (when comparing to Irish group Kneecap’s success or the beating heart of Welsh venues like Porter’s) feels hidden.
Finding someone like Tzusan feels like looking into a window into a vaguely familiar but uncanny world. You're invited into his imagination; his primary approach to “music making” is visual, each project over the years has a setting and universe he asks you to integrate yourself into.
Ponzu is his most refined universe so far. The world is sleek, neon reflections in rain hit steel, puddles dotted throughout metropolitan streets, both so busy and slyly calm at the same time. You can’t inherently trust the world in Ponzu, but can so easily lean your head against that train window and look out to the faded landscape. Upbeat, 80s city-pop, futuristic fantasy is layered with whispers of jaded nostalgia, like smoke in a night, alive yet dozing city skyline. Sci-fi is a huge influence; writers like William Gibson and Arthur C. Clarke, and films like Blade Runner, Akira. The LP’s production is sublime, taking Tzusan from a Hip-Hop artist to a multi-genre wizard.
“Escapism can be dangerous.. You gotta come back to real life eventually”
Tzusan’s worlds work as a space to escape for listeners. They’re not put on a plate for you though; as much as he worked to create them, he appreciates the idea that you invest your own sense of imagination to the project; of albums as journeys to step through, each track at a time. To invest into the story, to fix your attention on one thing.
I wonder how much of his world-building works as an escapism for himself.
“We have a need to express, and creation is a vehicle for that expression”
Process is a huge buzzword in creative scenes, whatever medium you use, and I think we’re all a bit sick of it at this point. I cringe as I bring it up and then feel delighted to stumble into a conversation not focused on that process of making but using making to process what is going on around us.
Alexithymia is a term that Tzusan brings up (one I’ve had to google to spell) which defines how neurodivergent people process emotions. Music-making is a tool he uses to understand his past and with that, present; songs are something he can listen back to after months and really feel the depth of what happened, who he was.
“I wouldn’t have ever felt it that way if I didn’t make the tune”
Perhaps this is why Ponzu carries this sense of vague familiarity; a blurred vision into a space, original and disorientating yet comforting.
Throughout our conversation we keep harking back to dichotomy; Ponzu reflecting that bounce between extremes:
“I think there's something really important in that middle ground between ambient and jump - up music..most of life exists in that middle ground”
I conclude that maybe we are all suffering from musical dichotomy; forced to either do the dishes and listen to Aphex or bounce entirely to donk. Ponzu responds to this with its scratching production, its huge rolodex of samples, and its gentle tones cut through with bass, beeps, whispers and field recordings. The album marries maximalist hyperpop with minimalist low-fi sensibility; reflecting the uncanny sense of living currently, the fast-paced changes in outside life.
“I wanted that from the album’s sound, there's a bit too much information and you don’t know what to do with it all... When there's too much information, there's no information, and it becomes a blank slate in a way”
When I ask Tzusan what the most difficult part of the making was, he states outright promotion. That and formatting songs to work on digital streaming platforms. I lean back and think what an annoying detail to have to think about, and what a good job he has done.
The titles and what they contain are brilliant by the way.
When I ask Tzusan if he has any advice for anyone trying to make it, he leans back and laughs.
“Don’t do what I’ve done! It has to be a compulsion. If you are doing something you’re passionate about you don’t need my advice.”
Authenticity reeks of Tzusan. Endearingly real; Ponzu creates an eerily, believable escape from reality; neon-lit, hyperactive, electric blues and high, tall buildings, with raindrops banging on too-thin windows; moving you through your own transient life.
Listen to Ponzu from the 5th of February and wish Tzusan a happy birthday at @aboynamedtzusan
Purchased vinyl and digital albums get a bonus of 3 extra tracks and the joy of actually owning something.
Keep that love of tangibility a reality by catching him on tour in London on the 28th of March.
Photo credit: mindwaders.art