Swansither goes from strength to strength on his new album, The Waken. Fresh from supporting the mighty Plaid earlier in the year, we find Tom Kennedy, the man behind Swansither, on top form. Equal parts haunting and melancholic, his restless and complex sounds weave an intricate and active brand of electronica.

And there's a story to go along with it, involving the unexpected passing of Tom's mentor.

"This album is kind of a ghost story. It’s really all about the untimely death of my great friend and mentor Pete, who died of cancer on 20/02/2022. He was my employee and right hand man on the farm; I walked the fields with him every day, and we talked a lot of shit and laughed a lot. He also taught me everything I know about farming, which isn’t much, but it’s enough to get by. He was a big music fan, mostly into the blues, and I know that he would hate this music I have written.

So in a way, this is actually about me, because it’s about how I have responded to his death. I miss him terribly, still, but I would not have written anything at all, had I not actually seen him walking down the lane a couple of months after he died. It was definitely him; I could tell from the filthy T shirt he always wore, and his other clothes, but most of all from his very distinctive walk. Initially I thought “who is that, walking out of the field and down the lane?” He had his back to me, and walked quite purposefully down the lane, round the corner and out of sight. I went down there pretty quick, and there was nobody around the farm at all. I mentioned this to his niece, whose daughter had also seen him, twice. And my sister in law had also seen him standing in a field.

His niece had cared for him beautifully while he was ill. Her take is that Pete never actually accepted that he was dying. He always said he would get better. Eventually he was on so many sedatives that he just lost consciousness and never came back. So he never came to terms with death. And she thinks that is why he is still here, tied to his life, or his patch, in some way we do not understand, but it seems plausible nonetheless.

Anyway, it set me off writing music. Some of the tracks are just plain spooky, and I have used a lot of disintegrating sounds, wobbly delays and wobbly rhythms. Some of the tracks are about pain, or confusion, or the hallucinogenic effects of morphine. Towards the end of the album the tracks get slower and more dreamlike, as if parts of a mind and body are shutting down. The last track I hope to be more uplifting and serene, like a celebration and thanksgiving for the life of this wonderful man, who really would not care for this music at all.

My method generally is to jam around on the modular, get a cool patch, practise and practise a performance before pressing record on the computer. After this I might add a few synth lines or found sounds, then mix it all together. Its all extremely loose and organic. I try to keep everything live and unquantised!

I think this has been my best work to date. Partly because I have a theme to write on (sorry, Pete!) and partly because I am just getting better at my craft, settling into my sound, not being too precious about it either.


The last sound on the album is the squawking of Pete’s guinea fowl, who are still here."