In conversation with: Igor Dyachenko

Igor Dyachenko is an experimental sound artist, composer, and sound designer currently based in Asia, previously in Berlin. Operating at the intersection of sound art, experimental electronic music and spatial research, he has developed a distinct approach grounded in what he defines as “melted reality”—a fluid understanding of sound as a hybrid entity, continuously shifting between physical presence and abstract form.

His practice is shaped by a research-driven methodology that privileges attentive listening and material exploration. Drawing from modular synthesis, field recordings and residual sonic artifacts, he constructs dense yet fragile compositions where micro-textures, interference and so-called “defective” sounds become central compositional elements rather than discarded byproducts.

While often situated within the ambient spectrum, Dyachenko’s output moves closer to the territories of microsound, dub-informed abstraction and conceptual sound art, where perception, space and temporality are continuously reconfigured. Releases such as Tracked (Entangled Visions), Post Ambient Lux (Appendix.files) and Remnants Of Noise (Offret music) outline a practice that balances sonic precision with intuitive process, while projects like Atemporal and Spatial extend his research into data sonification and environmental translation.

Alongside his individual work, Dyachenko runs Epic Room, a studio operating across fashion, film and sound design. Focused on original sound production, the studio develops soundtracks and sonic identities for a range of contexts — from fashion brands and visual productions to exhibitions and immersive environments.

Complementing the interview, Igor has recorded an exclusive one-hour guest mix, tracing a path through textures, atmospheres and subtle transitions that resonate with his artistic language.

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☉ How radically can music change our perception of space? Where do you see the limits of that possibility?

“Space, or the environment, doesn’t really change, rather, our attention shifts within it.
Sound doesn’t transform the environment directly, it gently reorients perception, stretching it, opening layers and experiences that previously went unnoticed.
In this sense, it’s not about changing space, but about how we orient ourselves within it. A quiet shift of focus.
For me, this is where communication begins, not as a statement, but as a shared state of attention. Almost like being close to a source that cannot be fully defined.”

☉ And the reverse, how does being in a particular space affect your music-making process? More on an emotional level than a conceptual one.

“I try to dissolve into the space a little.
To let it pass through me, without trying to fix it too quickly. At the same time, there is a slight distance, as if observing from the side.
Something forms between these two states. Not fully controlled, but not accidental either.
More like a subtle interaction with the atmosphere.”

☉ Do life transitions, moving between places, shifting contexts, tend to draw something out of you sonically in the moment, or do you need time before it surfaces in your work?

“In moments of transition, everything feels unstable, open, not yet formed.
I tend to collect fragments without trying to understand or even accept them immediately. It’s more about sensing than structuring. For some time, they remain unresolved.
With time, something begins to take shape. These fragments reveal an internal coherence, and I can return to them more consciously.
So it’s not “either-or”, but rather two temporal phases of the same process.”

☉ Relistening to your albums in preparation for this interview, we found it almost impossible to trace the origin of most sounds, an instrument, a sample, etc. What are the basic elements you start with when working on a composition?

“The origin of the sound is not so important to me. What interests me is the moment when it begins to lose its identity, when it moves away from its source and becomes something less fixed.
I’m more interested in the behaviour of sound than in its nature. Its texture, its movement, the way it occupies space. Sometimes I can no longer trace where it came from, and it’s exactly at that point that it becomes transitional and flickering.
It’s like being in a city late at night, when distant sounds reach you already transformed, softened by distance, almost detached from their source.
What remains are traces. Something familiar, but no longer fully recognizable.”

☉ Just looking at your album covers on Bandcamp, there’s a clear, consistent visual aesthetic running through your releases. How does that relate to your sonic practice? Is the visual representation something you think about actively?

“Glad you can feel that, I stay quite close to it.
It’s more intuitive, something that develops together with the atmosphere of the work.
Sometimes the visual comes first and quietly sets the direction for the sound. Other times it takes time, almost like waiting for something to surface, before the visual layer finds its place within the music. Sometimes it can take up to a year to find or create a visual layer for an already finished sound project.
It’s important for me that they remain connected, not as separate elements, but as different layers of the same process.”

☉ Your album Post Ambient Lux on Appendix.files has been described as a “masterclass in textural precision”, a work where philosophy is seamlessly rendered as aesthetic. How did you approach your collaborations with artists like Nick Malkin, Corell, and mu tate to arrive at this sonic equilibrium, and to what extent does the concept of “Post Ambient” reflect your search for a “Tao for experimental sound”, balanced between minimalist restraint and sci-fi abstraction?

“Aw sweet, I’m really grateful to Amos for such a generous reading of the album, it truly means a lot to me. The record was written during a rather difficult period in my life, and there’s a certain paradox in the way it sounds so personal and warm. In a way, it became an alternative place I could inhabit.

These collaborations felt more like entering a shared space where different visions could coexist, sometimes aligning, sometimes remaining slightly out of sync. With Nick, Corell, and mu tate, there is also a personal connection, we’ve known each other for a long time. Because of that, there was no need to direct or define roles. Things unfolded quite organically, allowing something to form in between us.

“Post Ambient” for me is not a genre or a fixed position. It’s more like a condition, a way of moving through sound at the moment when its familiar boundaries begin to dissolve.
Not moving away from ambient, but passing through it.
Letting it lose its stable coordinates.
If there is something like balance, it doesn’t come from trying to achieve it directly.
It appears somewhere between restraint and dispersion, between holding a form and allowing it to slip.”

☉ Epic Room appears to be the core of your professional practice—a hybrid ecosystem serving as both a niche sound design studio for international brands and an independent platform for your own music. What is the conceptual vision behind the studio?

“Epic Room is not really a studio in the traditional sense. It’s more of a situational process that takes shape depending on context. It has no fixed structure, and things come together more organically.
At the same time, it’s a practical sound practice where I work with brands and different industries, often through a shared vision and a similar sensitivity. It’s not only about music or sound design, but about how sound can function as a way of relating to the world.
At this point, I don’t see a strict separation between commercial and personal work. The difference is more about context. Within the studio, I translate more experimental approaches to sound into forms that can exist in a different environment, but the core remains the same.
In a way, it’s the same approach moving through different situations. Commercial audio with a non-commercial approach.
It holds that continuity. It allows me to move between different formats and contexts without losing what I’m actually doing.”

☉ Within the context of fashion, how do you balance compositional freedom with the functional requirements of a runway show — such as collection timing, models’ pace, choreographic transitions, and the specific dynamics of the venue?

“In this context, limitations are already part of the composition. Timing, the pace, the architecture, they carry a certain structure from the beginning. These initial conditions shape the foundation, but they don’t feel fixed.
Through the process, and through communication with the team, things begin to shift. Some ideas expand, others remain almost unchanged.
In a way, these parameters act more like coordinates, allowing a certain environment to take shape over time.
In the end, it becomes a shared perception, where sound doesn’t simply support the visuals, but gently shifts how they are experienced.”

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☉ Regarding your recent soundtrack for the Korean brand fffPostalService, the project serves as a compelling example of aesthetic symbiosis. How did you go about translating their distinctly technical and utilitarian visual language into a sonic grammar? What specific textures or rhythmic structures did you choose to resonate with their vision of modular, avant-garde design?

“A shared alignment in values and vision with the brand, and what drives it, is key. From there, a research process begins, and only then do proposals start to emerge.
In this project, I immersed myself quite deeply. Through close communication, the direction gradually took shape. Structured as a six-part composition, the soundtrack moves between ambient-orchestral layers and a more deconstructed sonic field, touching on territory and coded systems, utilitarian, futuristic, yet still human.
In a way, it became a full soundtrack within the timeframe of the show, unfolding in distinct parts with different emotional states. All of it held together by a continuous sonic code, something modular, but not static.”

☉ Your collaboration with Offret has solidified over the past year through the curation of the soundtrack for the brand’s debut collection. In parallel, this aesthetic dialogue led to the production of “Remnants Of Noise”, a nine-track LP released in physical format. What was the genesis of this synergy, and how did the project evolve between its functional role for the runway and its autonomy as a standalone record?

“The project began with a sense that it was already there. Perhaps this was connected to a certain familiarity between us.
I was invited to reinterpret the current state of the brand and its debut collection, and we agreed to keep the process open, without strict limitations on my side. In a way, it felt like an experiment, bringing these two directions into the same field. The physical release, as well as the sonic environment of the collection, unfolded as a unified space.
For me, the result remains open. I feel that the record can continue to reveal itself over time.”