Just before the release of his album The Secret Sessions, Tip Stevens agreed to chat with me about his project, his Road to Olympia, his journey, past and future… Interview.
From disastrous piano lessons to composing with a bunch of regulars on Twitch, Tip Stevens as always played music with others. His concert at L’Empreinte is done, the album is out, and so begins the Road to Olympia. Rewind to a few days before all of it, when we talked about the musician’s journey and state of mind.
DOING WHATEVER: THE RECIPE
Unis Son: So, for those who are just discovering you, let’s start with the basics. How did you get into music?
Tip Stevens: It’s funny because it happened in stages when I was really little. My parents made me take piano lessons when I was 5 years old. I quit immediately because I didn’t like it at all. I took it up again later, I must have been about 12, something like that, when a friend at school said to me, “I’ve got a drum kit, I play drums, do you want to start a band?” I don’t know how to make music… He said, “My dad’s got a guitar, here, take it so you can practice.” I started again, and later on, I asked my parents for lessons, of my own accord. I really wanted to learn, but the guitar, actually.
At first, I wanted to play drums, but in the end, it was too complicated, and my mate was already on drums. So, we started a band with a friend, we just did whatever, it made no sense. I don’t even know if it would be listenable now, but we started with the idea of forming a band before even knowing how to play music. Since I was a kid, I’ve learned music by playing with others. And lessons have been a separate thing, taken sparingly. There was that initial phase where my parents really thought, “Here, piano will be good for you.” I gave up so quickly, it just didn’t appeal to me at all.
U.S.: Music, that’s one aspect of your project, but another important one is streaming. How did you start streaming your music?
T.S.: Honestly, I’ve always been into watching Twitch. Even before Twitch, it was called Justin TV back then. I’ve always been really into that platform. From the very beginning, what got me hooked was PomfEtThud on Starcraft 2, when esports was just starting out and people were launching YouTube channels to do esports commentary.
Since I was a kid, I’ve really been into video games. And I discovered this thing where you could watch competitions on streams, on Justin TV, and then Twitch as it emerged. It became more popular. I watched a lot as a viewer, and every time I thought, “This is cool, I could do music on Twitch”—and then I’d think, “Well, maybe not.” Then, the music category started to grow. I thought, “Oh yeah, actually, it’s pretty legit, this could work now.” But I never really had the guts to start until the time when we were rehearsing for a big festival with my band. We were booked as Teacup Monster for Download Festival and found ourselves on the lineup.
I was right next to bands like the Foo Fighters and others, and we were thinking, “What are we even doing here?” So, I got really motivated to practise every day like crazy, and I thought, “We need to do this right.” At one point, I was even practising on my own, just with a playback of the drums. I thought, “Well, if I’m going to practise alone, why not tell people on social media that I’m going to stream it?” That way, at least I could chat with people while I practised.
It started like that, just because I wanted to practise and chat with people—without any big expectations. Gradually, more and more people started joining in, and at one point, I thought, “Okay, let’s try to make something of this,” and I made a schedule to stream music three times a week. I thought, “But how am I going to fill the stream time?” I started composing with people, trying new things, doing covers, experimenting with loops.
But at the start, it was a bit of an accident because when I first started practising, I didn’t care if it worked out or not. It took off way more than I ever imagined, and it became a huge part of my life, even my musical project. Without Twitch, it wouldn’t have had the same life. It’s amazing how much it supports my music project, the connection it creates with people. But I never thought of it that way to begin with. I was caught off guard by the whole thing. I didn’t push myself to go on Twitch—it just feels like home.
NOW PLAYING: STAY IN YOUR CAGE (Live)
U.S.: You mentioned earlier that you used to play video games, and you still play them now, sometimes even live. So, what are your favourite games and your most iconic soundtracks?
T.S.: I think the game that I don’t play at all anymore, but that I’ve spent the most time on in my life, is WoW (World of Warcraft). And the soundtrack is massive. I’ve been a Warcraft player since I was a kid, starting with Warcraft 2, and it’s something that’s very dear to me. And then, for more recent games, Cuphead. I absolutely fell in love with its design, and I think the music is brilliant—especially because it’s music played live by a band specifically for the game. I think the soundtrack is incredible.
When I was a kid, I was the youngest in the family, and my older brother played a lot on the Mega Drive. I get hit with nostalgia every time I hear even a bit of the soundtracks from Mega Drive games, like Streets of Rage or Sonic. You can hear a bit of that in my very first EP, Condor. I put in a lot of 8-bit sounds and all that. The sounds from the Mega Drive, there’s just something about them that I can’t quite explain. All those games from that era have a big impact on me.
U.S.: Do you ever imagine your music being featured in a video game? Is there a game or a series where you’d say yes straight away if they asked you?
T.S.: That’s a real question, and I’ve thought about it before. My approach to music is such that I haven’t taken many music lessons, and I play everything by ear. I’ve already composed a few things for other people, for short films, because I wanted to see what that was like. I don’t know if I’d feel up to creating an actual game soundtrack. It’s a real job, and when you play everything by ear like I do, fuck you must actually take 6000 years longer than others.
I think I’m quite good at building my own world, but trying to find the right notes and words to express someone else’s world—I don’t know if I’d be good at that. I’d be too afraid of putting too much of my own style into it and overshadowing the game itself. I think I’d prefer a game I don’t know at all. Not something famous or an existing universe I know too well, because I’d be too worried about messing with it and not doing it justice.
THE TRIBE: ALWAYS SURPRISING
U.S.: You mentioned it earlier: you do the traditional Sunday night music streams, as well as the live composition sessions, and you involve your community, the “tribe,” a lot. How did you put together the song list that you share with people on Sundays?
T.S.: It came together gradually. Like I mentioned earlier, we were rehearsing the band’s songs, and sometimes, during a stream, there’d be moments like, “Hey, let’s take a break, I’ll play you a cover.” And bit by bit, a pool of songs that I played often started to form.
It was around the time when I also tried doing some covers on my YouTube channel. It’s something I enjoy a lot less now, so I keep it just for the live sessions. Little by little, the list grew, and there’d be days where we’d think, “What cover should we do?” And actually, this list is made up of songs that I don’t mind playing.
I have this fear of having a list of songs that you’ve heard too much, that everyone asks for, so you play them, but you’re thinking, “Yeah, I’m playing it to make them happy, but I’m bored.” Sometimes, people have introduced me to new songs, and that’s really great. But most of the time, they’re songs I love and know I won’t get tired of.
U.S.: Often, during your Sunday night streams, you get really into creating loops. You spend 40 minutes on it, getting a bit lost in the process, and it’s pretty fascinating to watch. But does getting lost in the moment like that help you later with your own compositions?
T.S.: I think it does, subconsciously. It’s like a blank slate, there’s more freedom than in a concert. On Sundays, when I do loops, anything can happen. People know that’s part of why I do it. And sometimes, there are nice surprises.
I know that some of my compositions have come from a loop I started just for fun. Like, there’s often a riff that comes out of it. Sometimes, I’ll play something on the guitar for a loop, and the next week, I realise I want to use it again, so I refine it a bit more. As time goes on, I find myself wanting to lean into that sound, to make something out of it.
Sugar Rush is a loop that came out of an end-of-stream session. It wasn’t a composition stream. I’m mentioning it because my editor is preparing some videos, summaries of my composition streams, for me to react to for a retrospective. And he told me, “Sugar Rush actually wasn’t in the composition streams. ” It came at the end of a Friday session when we were just messing around and I started a loop. I played a loop and at the end, I thought, “Hang on, I need to record this one, something is happening here.”
U.S.: And when it comes to the live composition sessions with your community, what are the limits you set for yourself?
T.S.: It evolved over time. At first, during the early composition streams, I’d start thinking, how am I going to do this? Will I come across naturally? And will I manage? Will the quality hold up, or will it end up being lower-tier compositions because you’re working faster? And actually, that wasn’t the case at all.
In the beginning, I involved the audience a lot more. It was necessary to test the boundaries. What fascinates me is when we write lyrics together with the viewers—it’s really engaging and super cool. But on the musical side, I’ve since made the process more closed off from collaboration. First, because I play by ear, so I don’t really have the technical language to discuss chords and all that. And at some point, it has to remain my music—it ends up in my discography, so I need to own it.
I think finding the notes, the melody, that part is more like composing alongside the viewers. But with the lyrics, there’s something special where, if I manage to explain it well, and if we manage to find a theme… In any case, I have the final say. The key is to express your idea clearly to the viewers, so that everyone can get their minds working towards that idea. It’s a whole task to try to be clear in what you’re saying, but I think it works really well.
There have been so many times where I’m missing a line, thinking, “I can’t find it, I can’t find it.” It happens at home when I’m writing lyrics—I get stuck for ages. And then, suddenly, while explaining on the chat that we’re looking for a certain kind of phrase to express this or that, someone in the chat will come up with the line, and I’m like, “Yeah, of course.”
That’s what surprises me the most—that we manage to create really cool stuff while still keeping the lyrics very personal. When it gets too deep, there are certain songs where I just can’t do it. There are things I can’t share with others. But even with songs that are still a bit personal, you manage to engage with people and find things that you like and that you can make your own. And it doesn’t feel like we’ve made a patchwork of lyrics with lines from everyone. There’s a genuine creative process, and it surprises me every time.
U.S.: There’s a special attachment from the community to those songs, you can feel it, like, “Yeah, I was there,” and this kind of generous, “Yeah, here, take this.” I think that attachment is very different from a more traditional musician.
T.S.: Yeah, exactly. I think it’s pretty amazing what you can create when you’ve got a musical project that’s connected to the community. For me, it wasn’t something I’d planned from the start. But now, I think, “Why aren’t there more people creating their musical projects using Twitch as a platform, as a way of doing it?” It’s such a unique thing, it blows my mind.
THE SECRET SESSIONS
U.S.: You’ve often said on stream that you prefer making EPs to albums. So, why are you releasing an album now?
T.S.: Honestly, I don’t feel like I’m releasing an album. It’s just that I didn’t want to limit myself in terms of the number of tracks I was going to release. But I see it differently because it’s not really an album full of brand-new songs. It’s more like a big compilation of more intimate, different versions of songs that have already been released. I couldn’t see myself releasing them as several EPs.
The EP format wasn’t something I chose because I just wanted to stick to that. Maybe someday I’ll release an album… It’s just that, during a phase where I was launching my solo project, I didn’t know what style I wanted to pursue. And so, there’s a point where I don’t really get my solo project off the ground because I keep asking myself, “What should I do?”
At some point, I had this realisation: I can do whatever I want. And I didn’t want to spend three years on the same mood, the same album. I wanted to move quickly, to try lots of different things. I know that I’m very productive. The EP format was just a way for me to get things out there quickly. It’s definitely something I could break away from at any moment.
I think I kept around 13 tracks for The Secret Sessions. So, in any case, it was bound to be a long format. I released Animals Volume 1, and I’m getting ready to release Animals Volume 2. After that, I don’t know what I’ll do next. But I’m making myself not know for now. Who knows, maybe I’ll do Animals Volume 3—I’m saying that, and I might just jump right into it. Or maybe I’ll start on an album, I don’t know. But I think that’s a real thing. Sometimes, you announce a concept like that, and you trap yourself in it.
U.S.: So how did you choose the tracks for The Secret Sessions? Why Captain Overboard rather than Sugar Rush, for instance?
T.S.: Actually, I have a tab open with all the tracks from The Secret Sessions right now. How many are there? … 23! I had them all listed, and they all went through a bit of a testing phase. The ones I kept were the ones that turned out best.
For example, Sugar Rush is one of my most listened-to tracks. I could’ve thought, “It absolutely needs its own version.” But with every attempt, the Sugar Rush version always felt like, “It’s good, but nothing special.” Then, there are other examples. Right On Time, from Quetzal, is already a bit acoustic. I almost recorded the whole thing, including backing vocals, bass, a viola, and everything. But at the last moment, I was like, “This is so close to the original version. What’s the point?”
Some tracks got cut for similar reasons. It’s a story I used to tell during acoustic gigs when introducing Stay In Your Cage. It’s the perfect example—given how aggressive the electric version is, I never thought we’d make an acoustic one. But somehow, something just clicked.
That was my only guide when I did this. I tried to consider everything, to try everything. And I ended up surprising myself with versions of songs that I didn’t think would work at all.
ROAD TO OLYMPIA
U.S.: You’ve got the album coming out now, you’ve got a concert at L’Empreinte, and you’re planning to release five EPs in a year. And all of this is the Road to Olympia, which is in a year and a month. It’s quite a challenge you’re taking on. How do you feel about it?
T.S.: Honestly, I’m feeling okay. There’s been a huge amount of preparation and thought put into this before jumping in. That doesn’t change the fact that I’m about to go through a year that’s going to be really intense for me. But I know what I’m getting into.
People around me are lovely, and they tell me, “You’re not going to burn yourself out this year and come out of it with a depression.” But honestly, I’m fine. I know I’m not going to do a thousand years like this, and I know the amount of work that’s ahead of me. I’ve got a personality that thrives on this kind of thing. I’m super productive, and I don’t get overwhelmed by having loads of things to do.
I was the kind of kid who, when a school assignment was due, would always do it the night before. When I put myself in urgency mode, I had it done. That feeling of urgency, I don’t know why, but it’s something I thrive in, and I really enjoy it. So now, I’ve tried to plan it intelligently because I have partners, particularly Floral Records. I can’t drag everyone down if I fall behind.
One really cool thing is that I’m not following the same pattern that many artists do. They create an album, and it’s nearly ready a year in advance. Then they start promoting it, working with their press officer, doing all the comms and stuff. By the time they’re sharing that album with listeners, they’ve already mentally moved on to something else.
We always have that as artists. Now, it’s tough because the timelines are super tight, but I think it’s so cool. Just a couple of days ago, I recorded some vocals on a stream for an EP that’s coming out in about a month, something like that. And it’s really great. It’s rare to have that kind of timing.
Everyone kept asking during the live composition stream, “What we composed today, when will it be released?” And I’d tell them, hold on, by the time we select it for an EP, finish the composition, it’ll be at least a year from now. And now, for the first time, there’s a sense of timing that’s really interesting.
So, at the same time, I don’t feel completely calm, especially because it’s putting a lot of pressure on me. I’m convinced that if I take my project as it stands now, I won’t be able to fill the Olympia. I sincerely believe that. I think we can, though. We filled a Cigale last year and… it’s double the size, it’s a real challenge. I think it takes a lot of time to really fill those 2,000, 3,000 seats.
NOW PLAYING: Miracle (Live Cigale)
The idea that if you don’t push yourself this year with the release of the five EPs and all that, Olympia won’t fill up… There’s something real there. I love it. It’s so energising. You’ve always got something to do, and I think my year is going to go by very, very, very, very quickly with everything I have to produce. I’m sort of wired for it, which is cool. I get that sometimes the pressure can be so much that you can’t work normally, with too much pressure behind, too many stakes.
But for some reason, I love it. I’m also aware that years like this one won’t happen all the time… I’ve told my whole team, when Olympia is over, tie me up! Make me rest because I’m going to be like, “Hold on, I’ve got more ideas.” No, no, no, it’s going to be important to take a break. I’d find it cool to be faced with the results. End of Olympia, okay. Now, what do we do? Instead of always having two years planned in my head. What’s the current need, really? Do I actually want to keep releasing EPs? Maybe I will. Do I want to release an album? No idea. We’ll see.
U.S.: And would you like to come and do concerts in the UK, in London for example, since you sing in English?
T.S.: I’ve only ever listened to Anglo-Saxon music my whole life. That’s why I sing in English too. I tried singing in French for a while. And the funny thing is, people told me, “Yeah, it’s cool, it sounds good.” But honestly, I didn’t enjoy it at all. So, I’ve got a real love for it, and I’ve always wondered, am I really up to it? Is my level of English, my accent, all that, the quality of my lyrics, up to the standard for people whose native language it is?
I’d be more nervous thinking, “But if I go perform there, what are they going to think?” I’d absolutely love to perform in an English-speaking country. But yeah, there’s a real legitimacy issue where I question myself a lot. The funniest part is that every time I’ve talked to people who are native English speakers, they say, “On the contrary, even if there’s a bit of a French accent, it’s exotic, it’s funny.” They like it, but that doesn’t stop me from questioning my own legitimacy.
Believe me, I work really hard. My accent, I even have all my lyrics reviewed by someone in Australia. I’m constantly chatting with someone on Discord who says, “Oh, in this version, it’s a bit harder to understand what you’re saying.” So I go back to the studio, re-record just to change it, until they tell me, “Yeah, this is legit, it’s okay.” I put a lot of effort into it, and of course, there’s a bit of that feeling that if you perform in front of native English speakers, it’s like the final verdict on everything you’ve done before and after. Then again, maybe I’m overthinking it. They might just be like, “Yeah, cool.”
U.S.: We’re reaching the end of our interview, and here’s a question I ask everyone. What’s your earliest musical memory?
T.S. : Yeah… I think it must have been the piano in the hallway of our house when we were kids, with my older brother and my sister too. They had piano lessons with a teacher, and then I was made to try it out when I was five, just to see if I liked it. I wasn’t really pushed into it much, but there was this piano in the hallway, a bit out of tune, but it was always there.
And I did enjoy going up and playing a few notes. But it’s really the whole idea of piano lessons—coming in and doing the one, two, three. They’d tell me, “We’re going to start calling these notes.” No, no, no, one, two, three is fine, really. But I liked the instrument itself. And sometimes, I’d go into the hallway and just play a note or two, and it made a sound. I think that’s really my earliest musical memory.
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Thanks again to Tip for taking the time to chat with me, and to Camille and Alice for the organisation. If the Road to Olympia is still long, I hope it will be a fantastic year for Tip Stevens. Keep an eye out—we’ll definitely be talking about him again on the blog!