"I couldn't find a group that wanted to do what I wanted to do. No one was really up for it"
About this Quote
Tom Jenkinson voices the stubborn clarity of an artist whose ideas outran the patience and habits of the rooms he played in. Before the world knew him as Squarepusher, he grew through jazz and band contexts, testing rhythmic extremes and harmonic tangles that did not fit the comfort zones of most collaborators. The line registers both a practical obstacle and a creative breakthrough: when consensus would have blunted the edge, solitude became the tool that sharpened it.
There is a familiar arc in underground music where the group is a proving ground until it becomes a fence. Mid-90s UK electronics were exploding, but even then, the leap from breakbeats to the hyper-detailed, high-velocity architectures Jenkinson imagined demanded an appetite for risk that few shared. Bands require compromise; his approach fed on asymmetry, sudden accelerations, and a bass voice treated as both engine and saboteur. If no one was up for it, the sampler and computer would not argue. Working alone made room for maximal complexity and microscopic control, and that autonomy defined the sound that followed: jazz reflexes meeting machine precision on Warp-era releases alongside peers like Aphex Twin and Autechre, yet unmistakably his.
The sentence carries a tinge of disappointment, but not bitterness. It recognizes the social gravity that pulls groups toward the center and the necessity, at times, of stepping outside the circle to find the edges. It also hints at the paradox of innovation: the very isolation that forces a solitary path can create the work that later gathers an audience and, eventually, collaborators who can finally keep up.
Read as advice, it is spare and unsentimental. If there is no existing container for a vision, build one. If the room will not stretch, leave the room. The cost is loneliness and the risk of failure; the reward is a body of work that answers to no committee and expands what is possible for everyone else.
There is a familiar arc in underground music where the group is a proving ground until it becomes a fence. Mid-90s UK electronics were exploding, but even then, the leap from breakbeats to the hyper-detailed, high-velocity architectures Jenkinson imagined demanded an appetite for risk that few shared. Bands require compromise; his approach fed on asymmetry, sudden accelerations, and a bass voice treated as both engine and saboteur. If no one was up for it, the sampler and computer would not argue. Working alone made room for maximal complexity and microscopic control, and that autonomy defined the sound that followed: jazz reflexes meeting machine precision on Warp-era releases alongside peers like Aphex Twin and Autechre, yet unmistakably his.
The sentence carries a tinge of disappointment, but not bitterness. It recognizes the social gravity that pulls groups toward the center and the necessity, at times, of stepping outside the circle to find the edges. It also hints at the paradox of innovation: the very isolation that forces a solitary path can create the work that later gathers an audience and, eventually, collaborators who can finally keep up.
Read as advice, it is spare and unsentimental. If there is no existing container for a vision, build one. If the room will not stretch, leave the room. The cost is loneliness and the risk of failure; the reward is a body of work that answers to no committee and expands what is possible for everyone else.
Quote Details
| Topic | Team Building |
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