Max Cooper never set out to be a musician. Before the world tours, the AV shows, the labyrinthine albums, he was deep in a PhD, mapping out gene networks and staring down data sets. Music ran alongside it — late nights, DJ sets, record collecting — until the pull of sound became impossible to ignore. A former scientist turned sonic architect, Cooper’s work drifts between club culture and conceptual installation, head and heart, the physical and the imagined.
In this conversation, Cooper traces the quiet pivot from lab life to late nights, the clubs and records that shaped his early musical DNA, and how a minimal laptop setup evolved into the sprawling, hybrid playground he now calls his studio. He talks about hardware’s stubborn magic, the overlooked power of sound, and the strange relief of letting go of control. And through it all, he comes back, again and again, to something simpler than theory or concept: the search for feeling.
At the centre of it all: a quiet question about connection, and how sound might still be one of the deepest forms of it.
At a time when AI, streaming, and VR are reshaping the edges of art, Cooper isn’t interested in nostalgia or panic. He’s leaning in, finding new ways to translate the things we can’t easily name — the in-between spaces of memory, movement, and light.
You began your journey deep in the world of science, earning a PhD in computational biology, full lab life. When did you first feel the pull toward sound and art, what finally tipped you into music full-time?
I was obsessed with music from around seventeen when I started collecting recordings and DJing. The studies in science ran in parallel until I reached a point where I had to give up one to make the other work, and I wasn’t willing to give up music.
Was there ever a moment (a gig, a sound, a conversation) where you thought: This is it, I’m going to leave the lab behind? Or was it a slow, quiet turning?
When I first signed to Traum Schallplatten, I realised I had a chance to make a living from music. There were other artists on the label doing that, so I figured if I could release enough, of enough quality, on the same label, why not me as well?
When you were studying in London, what clubs or nights were shaping your ears? Any spaces that felt like part of your musical education or even your identity?
Most of my studies were in Nottingham, where venues like the Bomb and the Marcus Garvey Ballroom were the main spots in the 2000s for Firefly, Detonate, and Spectrum. But we also travelled around a lot — Tribal Gathering Manchester, Passion Coalville, The Key, The Cross, Fabric London, and off to Ibiza every summer. It was good times! So many of the friends and family I have now are still connected to all of that.
When you’ve been though all of the emotions and missions together and find yourself exhausted at 6am still nattering, the usual barriers don’t apply. The best, most honest conversations happen, and tight-knit bonds are formed. There’s also something about music where you can pretty much tell if you’ll get on with someone new based on their music tastes, it connects to so much more than just the definers of a genre.
When you’ve been though all of the emotions and missions together and find yourself exhausted at 6am still nattering, the usual barriers don’t apply. The best, most honest conversations happen, and tight-knit bonds are formed. There’s also something about music where you can pretty much tell if you’ll get on with someone new based on their music tastes, it connects to so much more than just the definers of a genre.
“There’s something about music where you can pretty much tell if you’ll get on with someone new based on their music tastes, it connects to so much more than just the definers of a genre.”
What does your creative process look like? Are there specific routines, environments, or stimuli that spark ideas or is it more chaotic and experimental?
Books, audiobooks, conversations, videos, travels, general gathering of information is the seed. Every time I come across something, mental or physical, that might connect to a project, I make a note of it. Then, when it comes to putting together an album, installation or show, I refer to those notes along with whatever I’m interested in at the time. Some of the ideas contain guidance for how to structure or approach pieces of music, but intuition is always there, how something feels, and how a corresponding musical form feels, with an attempt to align the two.
The next step requires lots of experimentation with the tools available in my studio, or finding new tools for ideas that need it. Often I’ll separate that part off into not involving the emotional ideas, so that I can focus on some boring technical learning or testing, so that when it comes to the time to express the feelings musically, I can do that quickly enough so as not to lose the vibe amongst technical thoughts and annoyances. There’s nothing like a buggy system to ruin the best intentions for expression.
The next step requires lots of experimentation with the tools available in my studio, or finding new tools for ideas that need it. Often I’ll separate that part off into not involving the emotional ideas, so that I can focus on some boring technical learning or testing, so that when it comes to the time to express the feelings musically, I can do that quickly enough so as not to lose the vibe amongst technical thoughts and annoyances. There’s nothing like a buggy system to ruin the best intentions for expression.
In the beginning, I’ve read your setup was extremely minimal, basically just a laptop and a decent pair of monitors in a treated room. Nowadays, your studio houses an enviable collection of synths and pedals. How has your setup evolved over time, and has the way you make music changed with it?
That’s true, I didn’t have money for hardware synths at the start. I used to have to freeze a lunchbox of water and put my overheating laptop on it to be able to run Ableton. Now nearly all of my audio is generated outside the computer and just recorded into it and edited. The main change has been a mindset thing — working inside the computer with lots of midi comes with a feeling that everything is always fixable, whereas working with hardware and recording to audio I had to let go of that, which was scary at first, but became very freeing. I accepted that I would just try to express things and not worry so much about whether they were just right or not.
It was a move from a tightly controlled composition method to something more like a free improvisation method, as much as is possible for someone who doesn’t play any instrument proficiently. The musical result is more organic and changing form, with some less direct and clear thought out structures. Some people prefer my old approach. There’s no clear best way, the main thing is having fun and expressing as directly as possible with whatever tools are available.
It was a move from a tightly controlled composition method to something more like a free improvisation method, as much as is possible for someone who doesn’t play any instrument proficiently. The musical result is more organic and changing form, with some less direct and clear thought out structures. Some people prefer my old approach. There’s no clear best way, the main thing is having fun and expressing as directly as possible with whatever tools are available.
Analogue’s got soul, software’s got logic. Where are you finding your balance between the two these days, and what pulls you to one over the other?
I use probably ninety per cent hardware at source, but some of that may be digital hardware, synths with analogue digital combinations, pedals from both sides, etc. Whether something is analogue or digital doesn’t really matter, but I think whether it’s hardware or software does have an impact given how different the form of human interaction and investment usually are.
Hardware allows for hands-on jamming with many parameters simultaneously and costs a lot more, so we have to make sure we don’t waste our money and put in more time with it. But after that ninety per cent hardware source, I process everything digitally in many ways. It’s always a combination of the two.
Hardware allows for hands-on jamming with many parameters simultaneously and costs a lot more, so we have to make sure we don’t waste our money and put in more time with it. But after that ninety per cent hardware source, I process everything digitally in many ways. It’s always a combination of the two.
Do you think we take sound seriously enough culturally, scientifically, even spiritually? What is sound to you, beyond just music?
No, we’re a visually dominated society, and the role of sound in our lives is often overlooked. It’s amazing how much of our awareness of the space we exist in, and our moment-to-moment consciousness is connected to sound, something that becomes apparent with time in simulated spatial audio environments. Put on a pair of headphones and type ‘binaural hairdresser’ into YouTube, close your eyes, sit back and you’ll see what I mean. Notice that using the word ‘see’ is how we explain things. Visual dominance is coded into our language.
“We’re a visually dominated society, and the role of sound in our lives is often overlooked.”
How do you think our relationship to music or to art in general has changed in the last decade? And what do you think we’ve lost, if anything?
It seems the world has become more individualistic. It’s all about us, the reader of this, and how art can serve us, the individual. Art is great to comment on this, but I’m not sure I should say anything has been lost or gained artistically. Art should reflect our being at the time, whatever that may be. Whether or not art from this or that time or place is better or worse is a matter of personal taste. But personally, I think over-personalisation has lead to some epic piles of shite. But there’s also bigger piles of amazing art out there now than there’s ever been before. There’s something for everyone.
Your live performances are as visual as they are sonic, almost like walking into someone else’s brain. What role do visuals play in your process? Are they ever the starting point, or do they grow out of the music?
I often write music to visual ideas before commissioning visual artists to work on those ideas, yes. I love working to images and ideas, it pushes me in new directions musically and allows me to spend time with people and ideas that make the whole process much more interesting and engaging for me, and hopefully the listener as well.
When you build a set or a live show, do you imagine how people will move or how they’ll feel?
All of it is about how things feel, beyond all the concepts and complexities, how it feels is the most important thing, to the extent that none of the rest of it really matters. The visuals and stories and musical structures should enhance the feelings though.
You do both DJ sets and full live shows, how do those experiences differ for you? When you’re performing a live set of your own music (often with visuals and possibly guest musicians or vocalists), is your mindset different than when you DJ? I imagine a live set might be more structured due to the production elements.
DJing is just pure fun for me, having a party with everyone else there, being free and trying to find a story in real time with the audience. Live shows are more structured around a visual narrative combined with the architecture of a space. I try to map my visuals around the audience, and to create a space that envelops everyone in light and sound, where my job is to curate a narrative connecting to the people, place, space, and whatever ideas I’m working with at the time. I still deliver this in a DJ style way though, having access too all previous projects and not using pre-defined set lists, so that I can respond in real time and make something new every time to keep it fun and responsive for me.
On the flip side, has the way you build your live shows changed how you DJ? Do you find yourself layering more, thinking more texturally, even when it’s other people’s music?
Maybe it’s made me more comfortable with the multi-genre thing. When I was focused on DJing in the past, I had to fit into particular events and genres, but now, after years of avoiding genres, my DJ sets are pretty free flowing too, and the people booking me or listening to me are mainly ok with that. Although people always have their preferred parts, it’s impossible to please everyone with anything outside of dull middle ground content.
“I’m an optimist: I want to find new ways of expressing ideas that I couldn’t do previously. That has been my approach to AI from the start.”
You’ve collaborated with architects, mathematicians, classical musicians, and digital artists. What draws you to certain collaborators and what makes a collaboration really work?
Common interests. When I find someone who is excited by the same sorts of ideas I am, it doesn’t matter too much where our expertise lies, there’s usually something productive and enjoyable we can work on together.
Do you have a favourite venue in the world: not just for sound, but for energy, vibe, architecture, all of it? What makes it unforgettable?
The Herodes Atticus theatre of the Acropolis in Athens is the most spectacular space I’ve ever worked with. Barbican London is one of my lifelong favourites though, and anything Mutek or Sónar is always a special experience.
You’ve been creating through a rapidly shifting era of technology; AI, streaming, VR. What excites you right now? What worries you?
AI tools in music are still relatively undeveloped, there’s huge potential there for new creative processes which enrich art, as well as the potential to destroy our roles as artists too, which is obviously worrying. But I’m an optimist: I want to find new ways of expressing ideas that I couldn’t do previously. That has been my approach to AI from the start. Beginning with feeding incomprehensible Wittgenstein text into AI to help visualise things I couldn’t access otherwise from Exotic Contents project with Xander Steenbrugge, for example.
Are you more interested in the future, or in the past? Why?
I spend too much time in the future to be honest. I try to be more present and certainly have that when I’m making music. But a lot of what I do is planning ahead to shows, installations, events, travels, and wondering about how to develop the coming years projects. I love spending time in the past though, I find it more relaxing with the known form. I’m not more interested in any one of the three, though.
