ANONYMITY IS LUXURY
Interview — Independent Music
R.
Djordan
Shadow & Light
The French producer who made an album with Orwell's ghost, two Brazilian musicians, and a Greek lyric soprano — and still won't tell you his name.
"Anonymity is luxury."— R. Djordan
There are producers who want the spotlight and producers who want the sound. R. Djordan is clearly the second kind. Six albums deep, self-taught, working from a home studio somewhere in France, he builds worlds out of groove, synthesiser dust, and literary obsession. His latest record, 1984, is named after Orwell and sounds like nothing Orwell ever imagined — which, somehow, feels exactly right.
Walk us through the reference map for 1984. What were you pulling from?
The album title starts with Orwell, but the sound goes somewhere else entirely. For the funky guitar tracks, I kept thinking about Quincy Jones — that particular warmth, the precision underneath the looseness. Then for the vocoder work and the deep electronic bass, it was all about French Touch. That era had a specific darkness to it that I wanted back.
There's also an electro-oriental track on the record that comes directly from listening to Ziad Rahbani — the Lebanese producer, the son of Fairuz. He has this incredible way of sitting synthesisers next to wind instruments and string instruments and making it feel completely natural. I wanted to try that.
Elsewhere there are tracks that breathe California air — unhurried, a little hazy. And for the more cinematic moments I looked at Japanese percussion. The cover image ties it together: Vasarely's Op Art from the 80s, that psychedelic geometry. Shadow and light. That's the album in two words.
"A rich, multicultural experience — made of shadow and light."— On the making of 1984
How did the record actually get made?
It started in lockdown. That particular stillness. I had time to really commit to where I wanted to go sonically, and the destination was 1980 — the funk of it specifically. So the first move was bringing in two Brazilian musicians: Junior Souza on electric guitar and Rubens Filho on bass. You can't fake that signature. You need real hands on real strings.
The electronic skeleton came from vintage synthesiser emulations, electronic drums, and the vocoder. Then I went crate digging for the final arrangements. I layered in orchestral synthetic textures. And there's a collaboration with a Greek lyric singer, Athina D., that brings something completely unexpected to the mix.
Every collaborator added a geography. Brazil, Greece, France, Japan, Lebanon, California — this record moved around the world without leaving the studio.
The music industry right now. Where's it at?
The democratisation is real and it's good. Home studio technology has opened the door for anyone with ideas and commitment. Distribution to streaming platforms, to YouTube — none of that requires a label anymore. I believe in that completely. Electronic music should be accessible.
But there's a problem running parallel to that. We live in an image-first world now, and the music video has taken the lead role. The music itself has been demoted. It's supporting the visual, not the other way around.
I went the other direction on 1984. Full album. Full tracks. A refusal.
How do you use — or resist — technology in your work?
The landscape has exploded in the last ten years. Tools, plug-ins, production software — the offer is enormous. I've stayed with the same setup. I know what I have, I know what it does. And I always keep my vintage AKAI MPC close. That machine has a feel to it that software doesn't replicate.
The decision to bring in real guitarists on this album was specifically a counter-move. Mainstream production right now is largely 100% synthetic. There's a flatness to it. I wanted the friction of actual instruments, actual musicians with actual histories in their fingers.
Streaming has also changed the unit of music. The album used to be the measure. Now it's the track, and tracks are getting shorter because of how plays are counted. I ignored that logic. The album still means something to me as a form — as a complete statement.
What does well-being mean to you?
It's multifactorial. Your relationship to yourself. To others. To the environment around you. Emotions, health, material stability, security, spirituality — all of it feeds in. Serenity and peace of mind are the non-negotiables. Everything else is built on top of those.
is luxury."