With a new LP,partly conceived at Jaeger and an upcoming show for Musikkfest, it was about time we talk to synth wizard True Cuckoo.
It’s early in Jaeger’s basement and it sounds like I’m trapped in an augmented reality version of Tron. Laser-like sounds cut through the air in syncopated “pews” and “glitches” while a drum machine stutters through its arrangement. Broken beats unfold like whirling dervishes, while rhythm patterns take on unexpected shapes. This is the sound of synth wizard True Cuckoo.
It’s March 2023 and I’m hearing the conception of a new LP; I just don’t know it yet. It’s coming into focus around the bleeps and squeaks dissipating around me, but it’s still in its nascent form, a mere seed of what it would become. Beyond the rumbling drum machines shaking the infrastructure of the Funktion One sound system, there is something familiar about this sound, but I can’t quite put my finger on it…
It’s 2025 and I’m listening to Non-Binary Code by True Cuckoo. I’m on the track “Bitcore,” and it’s stirring some core memory. It’s more than just the memory of the artist playing the song a couple of years before. No, it’s more wistful and nostalgic than that. There’s a bouncing melodic theme that resolves into a long sweep and I’m transported back to my youth.
It’s the early nineties and I’m sitting on the floor, with a game console at my feet, and this is the sound of True Cuckoo’s new LP. Andreas Paleologos (True Cuckoo) also “grew up in the era of (Super Nintendo) and Sega Megadrive.” Whereas it’s a faint memory for most of a generation, I’m not surprised that it “inspired” Andreas and even “to this day,” still inspires.
Andreas has a sonorous accent; it’s a blend between his Swedish sing-songy inflections and delicate English pronunciations. He’s just moved out of Oslo city centre, and when I phone him up he’s enjoying a slice of suburban sunshine on an early spring day. His voice lilts like a low frequency oscillator in one of his songs, mimicking a looping crescendo as a game waits for the player to hit start.
“It’s that melodic landscape that I reach into when I create music,” he continues as we get stuck into his latest LP, Non Binary Code. Before the album, Andreas had this sonic image of “a soundtrack to a fictional game that doesn’t exist.”
Originally commissioned as a live performance at the Fredrikstad animation festival – as accompaniment to his animation – the show, and eventually the album, found its shape as it was later re-created at Jaeger. At the behest of Kaman Leung, True Cuckoo’s performance at Jaeger in 2023 was the push the show needed to go from vague idea to full-fledged concept.
Faced with the sound system in the basement he thought; “If I’m playing here on this system I need to know what works for this system, because it’s kind of amazing.” He “tried the embryo of this LP,” and was immediately struck by the sound. “This sounds incredible down here,” he exclaimed. The idea for an album then took shape with Andreas realising: “This is what I have to finish.”
The result is Non Binary Code. Initially released in 2024 for digital platforms, it has recently been re-issued for the vinyl format. The vinyl version includes an immersive comic book gatefold; a two-month endeavour created by the artist as an extension of that conceptual theme behind the record.
Non Binary Code never lost sight of the immersive video game feel, even with certain tracks taking on a more “club-oriented” feel. At its most energetic through “Blitterate” – a brisstling drum and bass arrangement – it stops and breathes at phrases, like a character crossing over the threshold of a new level, or waiting for the boss to arrive in the next frame.
At its most serene, tracks like “Tsuki Ga” or “Mem Leak” touch on esoteric melodic arrangements evoking sonic themes from the likes of Castlevania. It’s something exotic and lovely to break the harshness of the limitations of those early gaming console’s sounds, where Andreas’ own musical interests first took shape.
As a teen, he and a group of friends were early in exploring the new technology of consoles, “aiming to create games for the Commodore Amiga.” He claims he was never really a programmer and that his involvement in these games was more universal, “doing a little bit of everything,” including making the music.
He had always, however, held an interest in music, tinkering with the electric organ at home or playing his Grandma’s piano in rural Sweden. At school he had music classes, and while he would always be playing and writing music, including his early attempts on the Amiga’s tracker software, it never developed much beyond a hobby.
Instead, he took to the animation aspects of these games, eventually working in the video game industry as an animator and “making video games professionally.” Music remained an interest, however, and while he could indulge those interests in the odd compositional contribution to some of the games he worked on, Andreas has always felt it was something he did just “for fun.”
By the mid-2000s, that all changed when he met a young Jenny Hval. “She was called Rockettothesky,” at that point and together with her producer, they put together a “little band,” “travelling Norway, and playing all the festivals,” off the back of her debut LP. Andreas “got so hyped by that,” and decided “this is really what I want to do.” Cuckoo was born, and then later matured to True Cuckoo – “because there turned out to be several bands on Spotify called Cuckoo.” He released his first LP in 2009, but “nothing happened and I got no traction.”
Where most would resign their efforts to the waste bin and go back to their day job, Andreas had something else in mind. He had been an early adopter of YouTube, uploading his animations to the site in the hope that those would “gain some popularity.” As his urge to make and share music grew stronger, however, he thought: “Why don’t I just do this?” and True Cuckoo took to the web.
Today, it’s a channel for people interested in the tools for creating electronic music, but with its esoteric feel dictated by Andreas’ own interests, it’s for those that want to delve deeper. It goes beyond the standard review and the obvious, to instead focus on “a musical goal when explaining how things work.”
Today, the channel has over 200,000 subscribers, but he’s not just another man with beard twiddling knobs on a screen. His slow, patient voice seems to explain with ease even the most exhausting menu dives.
Andreas had always had a knack for these technologically demanding instruments. After learning how to make music on the Amiga’s tracker, he bought his first synthesiser as a teenager. He had clearly found some instinctive knack for the machine, based on his early Amiga experiences and organ tinkering, but watching him perform today either live or on YouTube, it’s clear that Andreas’ knowledge extends to some of the more intimate features of some of the world’s most exotic and peculiar machines.
Today, his YouTube channel is dominated by quirky synthesisers and tools that flip traditional musical creation on its head. Tools like the logic-defying OP-1 or the challenging, manual-craving Elektron Octatrack, and it appears that it’s always these unusual, often scary machines that attract him.
By way of explanation he tells me about a recent visit to the German electronic music instrument messe , Superbooth, where he gravitated towards the Korg Berlin acoustic synthesizer Phase 8. “It’s a supercharged kalimba,” he explains with some delight, “a cool little thing that’s outside of a typical electronic instrument now.”
It’s these kinds of things that will usually show up on his channel and eventually his own music. “It’s always about what I’m finding interesting,” he insists. “I only show stuff that I’m interested in using myself.” He says he is inundated with requests from big manufacturers to feature instruments on his channel, but finds that he has to turn almost all of it down. “It sounds like I’m on my high horse, but for the whole time running my channel, I’ve never considered myself a reviewer.”
The channel has a tendency to “gravitate towards stuff that I find inspiring.” This is hardly an exaggeration, and in Non Binary Code, he turned exclusively to a machine he’s featured on the channel more than once, the Elektron Digitone. A frequency modulation synthesizer and groovebox, it has the ability to create those exotic organic tones that pluck at the central melodies of themes like “Mem Leak,” or make those erratic bit-crushing sounds of “Bitcore.” “I made everything on this one machine,” he says.
He was particularly drawn to the “algorithms that are extremely close to the Sega Megadrive,” as the video game concept manifested in his mind. Even though these thematic ideas are very strong on Non Binary Code, there is still something of a sound to True Cuckoo’s music. This album is very much a continuation in sonic aesthetic from his last two albums, I’m Not a DJ and Not Pop, and the glitchy, erratic expressions are central to his appeal.
As True Cuckoo, Andreas avoids any dogmatic or stylistic traits in what is a truly preternatural sound. There is no preset or obvious generic cue, and everything he does sounds experimental; not in some naïve and puerile sense of exploration, but in a knowledgeable and considered approach.
“I enjoy taking other adventures and arriving at new sounds,” says Andreas of his approach. He doesn’t always have to be making music either. He’s quite happy just exploring the limits of his equipment in search of new sounds. “I really like to create my own sounds from scratch,” and although he makes those sounds available to anybody through his sample packs, you won’t find many taking those machines in these directions.
It’s easy to get stuck into the finer details of synthesizers and music machines with Andreas. He engages with his topics like a teacher to young children, and can make sense of even the most obscure machines. Our conversation starts to sound like one of his YouTube videos as we turn to his current love affair with UDO Audio synths.
While he won’t be bringing that particular slab of synthesizer out to his next appearance at Jaeger’s for Musikkfest, he is threatening to bring “two devices.” He’ll expand on the album and “play some of the new stuff.” In a way it’s kind of a homecoming for Non Binary Code as an LP partly conceived at Jaeger, as it comes full circle, but it’s also an opportunity to take a new adventure into other sounds.
“That’ll bring closure for sure…” he says about performing Non Binary Code pieces at Jaeger, but you get the sense he’s already looking towards the next album. Who knows, maybe we’ll hear the first echoes of something new.