Dave.i.d, a 26-year-old from South East London, is a Tricky, an Aphex Twin, of a modern electronic recording artist. That is to say, he has emerged from the shadows, an enigmatic figure, to become a prolific musician operating at the forefront of radical computer pop. Dave i.d, started making music in earnest in 2006. Before that it was just messing around with computers in his bedroom. “In the first place making music was a way of stopping myself going crazy,” he explains. “It was better than sitting in a room talking to myself.” It was also an escape from the daily grind of studying to be an accountant. His first release, ‘Why Weren’t The Message Sent’, came at the beginning 2009. Like the album, he made the track in a 10-foot-by-ten-foot wooden cube sitting in the storage space of a former art gallery. “It’s an old art project, which has a multi-functional use” he explains. “At present I call it ‘Dave’s Studio’.” Working alone is important to Dave.I.D. He doesn’t think he’d be an easy person to collaborate with. “For me working alone is the only way I know how to work. To have something interfere with the way I’m used to working might not have worked out. I imagine I would have lost interest if someone else had got involved and started sprinkling their fairy dust on it. I like to do things a certain way.” He’s reluctant to talk about influences, and he’s got a point; he doesn’t really sound like anyone else. That said, the records he was listening to while making ‘Why Weren’t The Message Sent’ and later ‘Response’ help make sense of his singular sound. “I got into a lot of noise bands like Ex Models. I felt a strong connection to the second and third Liars albums, ‘They Were Wrong, So We Drowned and ‘Drum’s Not Dead’. ‘The Drift’ by Scott Walker is a great album. I think those are the people that have had an effect on me musically.” The common thread is a prioritisation of sound over melody.” Ask him about the future, and he responds instantly. “My dream is for this to be an option. I’m ambitious. I want people to like what I do. The difference is that I’m not going to sugar coat it for you. I don’t have that need. I really just like pleasing myself at the moment.” It’s more of a passive statement than a modern update of Suicide’s confrontational stance. Thing is, while pleasing himself he’s made an album that fizzes and pops with creativity. He’s going to have to get used to other people being pretty pleased with it too. He uses vocals, some keyboards, a guitar, a synthesizer and the latest digital technology to fashion a series of songs that are elaborate yet somehow succinct, murky and menacing but with the potential for mainstream appeal. These are songs that, via machine beats and the human voice, offer some idea to visitors from another planet of what it is like to live in a major post-industrial conurbations in Britain at the start of the second decade of the 21st century. The songs are suffused with sorrow yet somehow crackling with positive energy.