Kilbourne‘s If Not To Give A Fantasy captures the hypnotic elasticity of time in the right party—where a single bar of music expands into something endless. This album strips back structure in favor of texture, finding clarity in repetition and weight in restraint. Each track unfolds with deliberate pacing, allowing sound to breathe, stretch, and shift.

What inspired the creation of "If Not To Give A Fantasy," and how does it differ from your previous works?

I began this record in the fall of 2023. I felt deeply inspired by the distortion and especially the dilation of time that occurs in a really good party. When you can shed distractions and lock in, one bar of music can feel endless, impossibly rich and full of texture and detail that isn’t necessarily accessible on headphones or in a living room.

This led me to thinking less about structure and more moment-to-moment: what was the timbre and affect of the sound, and how could I reach its purest form? Accordingly many of the songs lean minimal. I am getting to where I’m going more slowly, but in a much more satisfying way.

"Double BBL" showcases a unique interplay of tempos and textures. What was your approach in crafting this track?

Double BBL began when I got home early in the morning from a party. I was sleepy but my computer was open on the couch and I told myself I’d make one kickdrum and then go to bed. One turned into twenty, and the next day I recorded an acid jam over the sounds I’d made.

After paring down a half hour of 303s into 4 minutes, I made the cleaner kickdrums, which are 2 909s that keep switching places, obscuring the downbeat til you can hear it both ways. I love when I’m listening to a set and it’s no longer clear where the downbeat is, it changes how people move, and can trigger a reset on the dancefloor.

What aspirations do you have for Hammerhead, and how do you envision its role in the hardcore music landscape?

Hammerhead is about the more psychedelic, sensual sides of hardcore techno. It is a consistent presence in America and New York, but I believe it can ripple into the global scene, showing the possibility of intimate smaller scale events, feeling freer to make hardcore that eschews simple genre comparisons. It’s not explicitly a queer party, but it leans that way. It’s hardcore for the freaks. I hope we can release music by more artists I love, and also to keep bringing performers who don’t normally play in New York.

In what ways do you aim to provoke deeper introspection in your audience through your compositions?

I hope this album will allow people to enjoy hard music that also breathes, that knows when to apply pressure and also when to ease it. It should allow for a range of feelings and playfulness, and again I hope the pacing will allow time to dilate, and for a listener to slow down and explore the timbre and intention of the sounds.

Having been a part of both the New York and Dutch hardcore scenes, how have these environments influenced your artistic development?

I love both scenes, these are the places where I’ve met many of my closest friends, where I have felt seen and understood musically. New York hardcore is so passionate and open to all kinds of sound, which has made me (and I think many others) feel free to play whatever I want and experiment.

Also the legacy of Industrial Strength Records is crucial, it was at the forefront of pushing weird, fucked up-sounding gabber and techno. I feel like I have also found a real family in the Netherlands, with the more alternative hardcore world, people I’ve met through PRSPCT, META4, and other “industrial hardcore” crews.

There are heaps of deeply talented producers there, it’s inspiring to see their work and motivates me to learn more. I am obsessed with the Dutch hardcore fests, they are singularly bizarre experiences every time, it feels like you are truly in the belly of the beast.

With previous releases on various notable labels, how does "If Not To Give A Fantasy" represent your growth as an artist?

The biggest change was how much I prioritized having fun during the writing process. The last five years have felt like a sprint to make objectively good hardcore, to tick certain boxes and do tracks that the people I admire and play in my sets would find valuable. Obviously that’s something I still care about, but during writing I tried to stop anticipating a response to the work, and focus on making music a sustainable and enjoyable process that I can do for decades.

Your music is deeply personal and physically intense. How do you take care of yourself—mentally and physically—while navigating the demands of performing and producing at this level?

I think participating in the events you play is important. Taking time to be in the crowd, to dance, feels important if you don’t want to feel alienated by your work. When I am traveling for music I try to make time to see friends. Sometimes this all feels like a big excuse to hang with people who share an obsession. I’m also very good at sleeping on trains and planes.