Ben Lukas Boysen: Overdoing It Just Right

Ben Lukas Boysen's plan to study electronic music never materialized, but this turned out to be a blessing in disguise. Freed from academic constraints, he was able to explore and build his own worlds – and with considerable success, whether as a composer for films (The Collini Case, The Lazarus Project), video games (Everything, alongside Sebastian Plano), or as a solo artist. Under his established alias Hecq, he releases music that, as he says, “has no rules or order.” In contrast, the albums released under his own name seem to embody the opposite: music meticulously crafted and refined with the precision of an architect.

The latest Ben Lukas Boysen album, Alta Ripa, has just been released, and like its predecessors Spells and Mirage, it comes out via the renowned Erased Tapes label. The author of this interview and Ben have been friends for many years, making this a great opportunity to catch up, discuss the creation of Alta Ripa – and, of course, talk synths, sequences, and sawtooth waves.

The press text for Alta Ripa describes the album as a journey back to your musical roots. Where do those roots lie, and what's the connection?

I started around 2000 with an effects unit, a synthesizer, and two speakers from the flea market. I knew long before then that this was what I wanted to do, but I wasn’t connected to the right networks, and my friends weren’t into making music – which turned out to be a good thing because it allowed me to build my own little universe.

Who were your heroes back then?

Aphex Twin, Autechre, Squarepusher, Atom TM.

Rather sophisticated taste for a teenager.

(Laughs) Yeah, well at 16 I started with slightly easier stuff: LTJ Bukem, Goldie… Drum’n’Bass and breakbeat. But that didn’t go far enough for me. When I first heard Autechre’s Tri Repetae, it felt like I was discovering new colors. I thought, "Okay, I have to step back a bit from this because this is kind of unlistenable – but amazing for pushing the boundaries of what’s possible.”

To this day, I rarely listen to an entire Autechre album because it’s just too wild for me. I need more structure and form. But as a benchmark for what can be achieved, they, along with Aphex Twin, are foundational for me.

That’s quite an abstract entry point to music creation.

Absolutely. I had no idea how they made their music – I was just fascinated by how transcendent it felt. It was more than just chord progressions or arrangements.

What really intrigued me was the gesture within the music. Whether the result was musically satisfying was secondary for a long time. For me, electronic tools made that possible because they transcend traditional recognizable instruments, voices, or "good" compositions. It wasn’t about how something was recorded or composed but how it sounded and felt.

And that’s the connection to Alta Ripa: for this album I wanted to put sound at the forefront again. In the sense of returning to the aesthetic of just a pure sawtooth wave with just the right filter settings. That’s the connection to my musical roots: immersing myself in a sound and feeling its impact.

A constant across all your albums has been the use of synthesizers, but here on Alta Ripa they really take center stage.

Absolutely. I’ve gone through other phases – field recording, granular synthesis – but my heart always brings me back to synthesizers. Not in order to replace acoustic instruments, but because they let me push boundaries in ways that fulfill me.

I’ve now worked out the differences between hardware and software synthesizers for myself – and I want to surround myself with hardware that I believe isn’t easily emulated. What I mean is: the point in spending so much money on these instruments is the physical interaction with them. Sure, you can have a modular system on your computer – that’s not a problem. It just doesn’t bring me any joy. It’s the same with the ARP [2600]. There are some fantastic ARP emulations out there, but I simply don’t want to use them. I want to sit in front of this massive piece of hardware, tweak the knobs, and feel how it impacts the result.

I’m not an analog purist – not in the least. A hybrid workflow is essential for me because some things are simply better, easier, and more effective to do in the box.

With modular setups or the ARP, things can easily become overly complicated. But yes, I need my analog synths because they keep my passion alive. I want to tinker with them, and I’ve realized that music works differently, comes into being differently, when keys, knobs, circuits, and cables are involved. I just love it.

And of course, I’m fully aware of how lucky I am. The fact that I can wake up in the morning and say, “Let me plug in this cable and make some sounds,” –  that this is my job at this point in my life, feels like an incredible privilege.

What attracts you to certain synths, and what turns you off?

Over time, I’ve learned what I actually want and need. When the Moog One came out, I thought, "That’s it – just get that and you’re all set." But then I tried it, and while it can kind of do everything, I realized that I actually prefer specialized instruments with limitations.

Their limitations allow me to focus, grow with the instrument, and push its limits. For me, it’s less about having an all-in-one solution and more about engaging deeply with an instrument’s unique character.

You use classics like the Sequential Circuits Prophet 10, ARP 2600, and Moog Model D. How do you make sure your tracks sound fresh and not like a collection of nostalgic quotes?

An iconic synth is associated with a certain iconic sound. For example, most demos of the [Minimoog] Model D showcase typical funk sounds, which I honestly can’t stand – not because they’re bad, but because that’s just not my kind of music. But when you play it “slowly” and with a different palette, it becomes this massive wall of sound that I don’t find overused at all.

In general, I try to use each instrument’s strengths rather than what it’s famous for. With the ARP 2600, for example, its versatility is key. Instead of falling into the trap of creating standard synth sounds that inevitably echo Depeche Mode or Tangerine Dream, I ask myself, What can I do with this that I can’t achieve with other synths?

As for the Model D, its strength lies in how incredibly fat, brutal, almost violent it can sound. In the end, I always ask myself how I can use an instrument to build my own world, because that’s always the most important thing for me.

Another way to avoid “sound quotes” might be to steer clear of factory presets on programmable synths. What’s your stance on that?

I have absolutely no problem with presets. It’s totally absurd to admonish someone with, “Oh, but you didn’t create that yourself!” You didn’t build your piano either, and yet it sounds the way it does. Everything I do has to serve the final piece. If a preset fits the track, it goes in – simple as that.

Some of your synths don’t have preset memory. Let’s say you start a track, the sound is amazing, but you don’t finish it right away. Do you immediately record the audio, or do you avoid touching the synth for weeks to keep the sound intact?

It does happen that I won’t touch a synth for a while to preserve the sound. But I’ve also learned that if I don’t save a sound and can’t reproduce it later, the next iteration is often just as exciting.

This realization has helped me loosen up. For example, if a sequence from the ARP plays in a track for the first time, but later I want it again and can’t recreate it exactly, then another synth has to step in. I’ve become less dogmatic about this because I still want to be the one holding the reins. If an instrument says, “I can’t deliver this exactly the same way anymore,” I want to respond to that and be okay with it.

My modular system has taught me the most in this regard. It’s all about letting go and embracing the unpredictability.

So, you don’t try to keep all your options open at all times?

No, not anymore. I used to, but once you let go and start asking yourself, “What serves the final piece?” you realize that it often adds a fresh layer when a part is played with a different setting or even on a completely different synth.

We made a One Thing video together about layering arpeggios, and Alta Ripa also features many repetitive sequences. How did you create them?

The MIDI time-stretching and the MIDI tools in Live 12 are incredible. You’ll definitely hear a lot of that on my upcoming albums. However, Alta Ripa was finished about a year ago and was entirely created in Live 11. For that, I built my sequences the way I always have – by drawing them in manually with the mouse in Live.

I’m always aiming for sequences that evolve over time, and this approach makes it simple. I enable “Preview” in the MIDI Note Editor so I can hear each note immediately as I draw it. Then I start placing notes, often using an odd number like five, because it tends to be more interesting. I’ll add a velocity curve, duplicate and copy the sequence, and so on. If I need tonal shifts, I make those adjustments manually as well.

It’s a pretty involved process, but it lets me craft exactly what I’m after.

Once you’ve created a great pattern, it can be both a blessing and a curse because it becomes difficult to move on. How do you turn it into a full track?

I don’t have a standard method for this, but it’s easy to get stuck in the “sequence prison” if you think a pattern has to carry the entire track. It doesn’t – it’s perfectly fine to turn it off at some point if that feels right.

When you have a great sequence, you should see it as a framework. A great example of this is “Says” by Niels Frahm. The sequence acts as the foundation, but there’s so much happening around it. If you listen closely, there’s a lot to learn: What else can happen? Can the sequence take a break? You can’t let yourself get too rigid about it.

One of the things that defines Alta Ripa is this balance between harmony and fragility: sounds gasping for air, tunings that drift slightly, rhythms that stumble and catch themselves again…

Thank you, that means a lot to me because that was exactly the goal for this album: high energy combined with low stability. It should feel harmonious and listenable, but I also want listeners to come away feeling like they’ve been through something.

I think this will always be a theme for me: pushing things to their limits, overstretching – but doing so in a way that keeps listeners engaged, letting them take part in the tension building. It’s about maintaining that emotional impact.

The tracks on the album sound powerful and complex, with numerous elements in play, yet everything feels very transparent. Do you use a lot of sidechaining?

Yes, in almost every channel of my Ableton Live projects, there’s a Glue Compressor sidechained to the kick drum. Essentially, everything is “capped” by the kick, but of course, it’s always finely tuned for each individual element.

And when you’re working on arrangements, is that a more analytical or intuitive process?

These days, it’s more intuitive. I can feel when something doesn’t sound quite right, and I usually have a good sense of what might be causing it. But it’s always a subtractive process. Or, as they say in woodworking class, start with the rough and gradually refine. You begin with a big chunk and keep removing elements until the thing you actually want emerges.

Ok, let’s discuss the album tracks individually.

1 – Ours 

The melody is from my Eurorack setup, where I’ve essentially recreated a Minimoog using various modules. White noise slightly modulates the pitch, giving it that subtly rough texture. The second, more open line comes from the Deckard’s Voice.

Originally, these were two separate tracks. The beat section, which starts with the Arturia ARP 2600 – so much for hybrid workflows – was created first. Then I recorded the improvised, slower intro. I combined them because I wanted exactly this effect: making the listener think they know what’s coming, only to be surprised when it shifts into something completely different.

Some elements sound slightly out of tune.

That’s sometimes due to the hardware. For example, the ARP 2600 is almost inherently a little off by default. Occasionally, I intentionally push the tuning slightly out of the comfort zone – not with a microtuning scale, just by feel. Clark taught us all how beautiful things can sound when they’re just a bit off in the tuning.

2 – Mass

This track showcases a principle I used a lot on the album: fragmented rhythms where the elements interlock like gears. The bass fills the gaps left by the beat.

The high tones from the OB-6 were initially even more detuned but are now perfectly on the edge for me – just enough to feel unstable in a good way.

The hammering sixteenth-note chords come from the Deckard’s Dream. It really didn’t like being pushed like that, but that’s precisely what makes the sound so unique – you hear it struggling to regulate the attack properly. To support it, there’s an OB-6 layered underneath, but the overall effect is fantastic because you can feel the instrument fighting for every note – like it’s on the verge of collapse. Instruments that feel like they’re fighting for survival often deliver the most compelling sounds.

3 – Quasar

The intro sound is unmistakably Prophet 5/10 with white noise modulation. It’s actually the first sound I ever programmed on the Prophet.

This track reminds me of my favorite old albums from Booka Shade.

I take that as a huge compliment. It’s nice when that comes across. You could see it as a bit of a nod to the club scene that influenced my musical development. You won’t hear much of Aphex Twin or Autechre on this album, and Booka Shade wasn’t the biggest influence on me either, but I’ve definitely drawn from that sphere.

The bass is distorted at random intervals. The harmony remains stable and runs steadily throughout, but the filter and VCA open unpredictably, sometimes in directions that are intentionally unsettling.

Ben Lukas Boysen has generously made the original Ableton Live project for his track "Quasar," including all audio stems, available as a free download.

Please note that this Live Set and all included samples are intended solely for learning and exploration purposes and are not to be used for commercial endeavors. Requires Live 12 Suite.

4 – Alta Ripa

This one’s really simple and was made in a very short time. The name has a longer backstory, but I like it when the humblest piece on the album becomes the title track – it ties into memories of growing up and the associated sentimentality.

It was originally intended for piano but ended up being performed on the Prophet 5/10, enhanced by two Roland SRE-555 Chorus Echo units. For the tape echoes, we slightly adjusted the tempo at the tail ends during the fade-outs. Doing that during the chords can make things a bit intense, but in the tails of the chords, it adds a vibrant modulation that you simply can’t achieve any other way. It’s the best of a cassette recorder and echo combined.

5 – Nox

This track is an ode to the Oberheim SEM, which is double tracked (recorded twice identically for added depth) playing the melody.

The rolling rhythmic structure seems to push and pull at the same time – for instance with those bursts on the 2 and 4, where most normal people would place the snare.

(Laughs) Yes, well put! Those bursts are a cascade of time-shifted events: SEM, Avenger, and MS-20 [soft synths], OB-6, along with a kick and a rather thin snare sound.

This reminds me of one of my big inspirations: Jiri Ceiver. Between 1995 and 1998, he released a few records on Harthouse, and they always sound like club tracks after a hearing loss – he swapped all the roles around, with the kick acting as the snare, and so on. Brilliant. You can find a few of his tracks on YouTube.

6 – Vineta

The only track featuring vocals, performed by Tom Adams. And yes, this piece is a contrast to the rest. It’s like an early outro, taking the album to an entirely different emotional level.

It has this celestial choir vibe. What I’ve noticed about you is that you’re not afraid of a grand gesture from time to time. And live, your audience completely goes along with it!

Yes, if the whole album were like that, it might feel cheesy, but in the context of the other tracks, I think it’s beautiful. And why not?

But many would be afraid to do something like that because they’d rather be seen as intellectual and avoid being called kitschy at all costs. That takes courage.

When I listen to or create music, I just want to feel something. Whatever feels right is right. I love having a track like this on the album, but it also includes contrasting elements, like the intro sound, which was a happy accident from the modular system. I immediately thought, That’s it – I’ll find a place for this. Or the slightly unclear rhythm at the beginning. These contrasting elements sand down the “kitsch” a little bit.

I think that’s something I used to miss sometimes. There’d be a beautiful song, but I wouldn’t feel anything. I’m an unapologetic romantic, and I’m happy to let that shine through. If music doesn’t make you feel something, then what’s the point?

A professor once told a friend of mine who was studying contemporary music that music should never make people feel but should only make them think. How crazy is that? I’d rather just do Sudoku.

That’s why song titles or narratives are always secondary to me. In the end, my music is always an invitation for people to make something of it themselves and, hopefully, to feel something in the process – whether it’s Hecq or Ben Lukas Boysen. 

7 – Fama

I had this shuffled groove running in a loop for a long time. Then I turned on the Deckard’s Dream, and that chord sound just emerged.

The riser in the middle gives me a strong club vibe. That pumping sound – it already feels like a PA pushed to its limits.

That’s an OB-X8 preset that bends across 32 takes. The pumping effect comes from sidechain compression, which I gradually increase over time. You can’t be too timid with this – it’s meant to remain unstable, and few things feel as unstable to me as aggressively pumping sidechaining.

The background pad, that horn-like hovering sound, is a direct inspiration from LFO’s “Loch Ness” – a track I listened to obsessively when I was 15. It works in the same way: a strong rhythm in the foreground and a floating atmosphere in the background.

You have to listen to it. If “Loch Ness” doesn’t grab you at 15, I don’t know what will. There’s so much emotion packed into it! My father taught me how interesting and important contrasts are in music, and “Loch Ness” is a perfect example.

Back to “Fama”: about a minute before the end, the rhythm completely breaks down. I just enjoy subverting acoustic expectations. That might sound harsh, but it really energizes a piece. Things shouldn’t always take the next logical step. So I often ask myself, How can I sabotage this?

The outro sound comes from Deckard’s Voice, recorded twice, with a little modulation curve. You have no control over what the result will be, but that’s what I’ve personally taken away the most from this album: allowing myself to say, “Okay, you take over for the next minute – I’ll step back.”

8 – Mere

The true closer of the album: entirely Eurorack-based, almost generative, with very slowly modulated filters. At the time, I was experimenting with the Instruo harmonàig, a four-voice quantizer – a sort of Eurorack harmonizer. It felt overly complicated to me, and honestly, I didn’t really know what I was doing. But that often leads to great results.

I think this was the moment when working with my modular system stopped feeling like a constant battle and turned into something I truly fell in love with. You simply can’t achieve this kind of outcome in any other way. It’s not something you deliberately compose – it only happens when certain elements take over and do their own thing.

Follow Ben Lukas Boysen on his website, Instagram

Text and Interview: Ralf Kleinermanns
Photos: Ole Schwarz