Photos by Anouk

When I spoke with M83 leader Anthony Gonzalez last November, before he even started recording his forthcoming double album, Hurry Up, We're Dreaming, he summarized the work in progress as "very, very, very epic." Hyperbolic? Not really. In fact, after listening to the boundless, 22-track, super-widescreen opus, it quickly becomes apparent that the French synth-pop guru was probably being modest. The album contains massive, festival-ready pogo jams like first single "Midnight City". There are heady interludes. There are crystalline, acoustic sing-alongs. There are brass-and-string-infused coronation themes fit for intergalactic royalty. There's a little girl telling a tripped-out story about licking frogs. Many things happen on this album.

When I met up again with Gonzalez this July, he had recently put the finishing touches on Dreaming-- out October 18 on Mute-- and, understandably, he seemed a bit spent. With the help of producer and multi-instrumentalist Justin Meldal-Johnsen, Gonzalez has created the boldest statement of his career this far. Along with the musical maximalism, the album also has Gonzalez showing off a new singing voice that's markedly more powerful than his typical whisper-soft vocals. He's going for it-- in every way imaginable. Gonzalez and I talked about some of the unlikely influences-- the Smashing Pumpkins, actor Klaus Kinski, the Killers' Brandon Flowers-- behind the new record, the irresponsibility of child-like nostalgia, and why he sometimes dreams of being a bank teller.

Pitchfork: Does it feel different finishing this album compared to when you finished your others?

Anthony Gonzalez: Yeah. When I finished Saturdays=Youth, I was depressed. But when I first listened to this record from beginning to end, I had this feeling of pride and accomplishment because I really did the album I had in mind. The idea was to make a double album, but not something too long and pretentious and lyrical. When I was a teenager, I craved these kinds of records. I would go to the store and dig and dig until I found something big and ambitious. I bought the Smashing Pumpkins' Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness, and I was head over heels for it. I've never been a Beatles fan, but The White Album is a great piece of art.

I feel like an old guy saying this, but nowadays everything is made in a bedroom on a computer. I'm not denying that it's a great time for music-- and I listen to and enjoy tons of homemade music-- but I need to go in a studio and work with musicians. I want to make things like they used to be when I was buying albums. I am still very nostalgic about this idea of an object-- something that you can listen to for a long time. This album is a statement in that way. Of course I'm going to try to push people to buy it on CD or vinyl, but I know 90% of them will get it on iTunes, and that makes me sad.

"After touring with the Killers and Depeche Mode, it made me want to be that guy who's awesome and charismatic on stage, but I still have a long way to go."

Pitchfork: When you were younger and heard an album like Mellon Collie, did you ever think you could make something like that yourself?

AG: As a teenager, I was very confident about myself. In high school, I made music because-- it's so cliché to say-- I knew I couldn't do anything else. Music accepts my mistakes, and it's part of the beauty. I was aware of that from an early age, and that's why I chose to be a musician.

Pitchfork: As far as your confidence, I saw M83 open for the Killers at Madison Square Garden a couple of years ago, and there's still a big difference between your relatively reserved onstage presence and a natural frontman like Brandon Flowers.

AG: I'm not as natural. I'm a shy guy. Being in front of people onstage is difficult, but I'm getting better. After touring with Kings of Leon, the Killers, and Depeche Mode, it made me crave that same experience-- I want to be that guy who's awesome and charismatic on stage, but I still have a long way to go. I feel like this album would have been different if I hadn't toured with those big bands. They're the icons. I'm kind of jealous. [laughs]

When I go out to see a show now, I want to be blown away, even if I don't like the music. If you watch a band like Depeche Mode, their connection with the audience is just magical. You're not going to see that if you go see Emeralds; I wish Emeralds could be as big as them, but it's a different league. And I don't like people spitting on bigger bands just because they have success or because it's not trendy to listen to the Killers. They have 15,000 people at their shows every night, and they're living the dream.

Pitchfork: Is that the dream for you?

AG: Well, I've never dreamed of big arenas. I just want to make my music. And if 100 people buy my album, I'll be happy. But still, you want it to be heard by as many people as possible because you want to share what you've worked so hard on.

Pitchfork: Hurry Up, We're Dreaming sounds like it was made by somebody who wants a lot more than 100 people to listen to it.

AG: Of course, but it's so difficult to be heard at all nowadays. There are thousands of new bands releasing good records every year. It's like a big jungle. You don't know what to listen to. I love how my neighbor can make a fucking great album on his laptop, but it's also scary. Once you start to making albums in a studio, you can't stop doing it that that way. I feel lucky to have the budget to be able to do it.

Pitchfork: When I spoke with you last year, you said you were worried about having enough money to make a double album.

AG: We had a good budget to make a 10-track album with good sound, so we had to find ways [to stretch that out]. It was difficult. But [producer] Justin [Meldal-Johnsen] did an amazing job putting a lot of artists together who worked for no money, just because they were in love with the project. I always wanted to play with strings and brass, and Joseph Trapanese, who did the arrangements for the album, didn't get paid. We didn't put the real names of the string and brass players on the album because they're part of a union, and it's illegal to work for shitty money. They're credited, but with fake names.

"For me, the imaginary world is so much more powerful than real life,
and I don't really want to be bothered by real life."

Pitchfork: Was this album stressful to get done?

AG: It's always stressful. I don't sleep at night. Sometimes I wish I could just work at the bank, come back at the end of the day, and be able to play video games without feeling any guilt. I've always cared about how people are going to react to my albums-- it eats me from the inside. But that's also the reason I'm doing it. For creative people, it's very hard to forget about your job for a little while. It's a part of myself that I'm revealing to people. People think I'm a very sad person because I'm always talking about nostalgia and melancholy, but I'm super happy. I love what I do, and I'll do it until the end.

"Midnight City"

Pitchfork: The opening riff of "Midnight City" is really memorable-- I've never really heard a sound like that before. When you first hit on it, were you like, "That's something."

AG: No. Honestly, when I first made that, I felt stupid. [laughs] It's my voice under heavy distortion, and I was feeling so dumb doing those high-pitched vocals while my girlfriend was sleeping downstairs. Now, I love it. One of the songs everybody always talks to me about is Before the Dawn Heals Us' "Lower Your Eyelids to Die With the Sun", which has this high-pitched thing that makes it very special. So I thought I should take some drugs and experiment with that. [laughs] I really tried to experiment a lot with my vocals on this album.

Pitchfork: When I first heard some of these songs, I didn't realize you were singing them because your voice sounds a lot stronger. I didn't even know you could sing like that.

AG: I didn't know I could, either. [laughs] But playing with Depeche Mode and the Killers, I realized I needed to be more confident about myself. I don't want to have any regrets in 20 years for being shy in front of the microphone. I'm tired of it. The first song I tried with these kinds of vocals was called "Wait". I usually like to have a movie on in my studio for reference, or to see if my music works with it. So I was working on the song and watching Aguirre, with Klaus Kinski, and I was looking at Kinski screaming on the screen. There was a lot of anger in his look. His face was just incredible. I said, "God, I should sing." That's how it started.

Pitchfork: You never even tried to sing like that before?

AG: No. Well, that's the way I sing when I do stupid French songs for fun. Sometimes I feel super-confident about myself, and sometimes I feel like shit. It's not easy to perform and to express yourself and to be sincere. But I'm 30, so it's now or never. Throughout my career, I've lost some very close friends very young. It just makes you realize that, if you have to do something, do it now. Otherwise, it's going to be too late.

Pitchfork: What other sorts of movies did you have on in the studio while making this album?

AG: A lot of Terrence Malick, David Lynch, Gus Van Sant. A lot of like experimental stuff like Maya Deren. I'm not gonna watch, like, Toy Story. [laughs]

Pitchfork: This is the first album you've made while living in America. Did the hugeness of L.A. have an influence on its sound?

AG: Yeah. L.A.'s a very special city. I would drive my car to the desert and work on music there when I was feeling lonely. It was a great-- I was finally kind of free. In France, I was stuck in the same environment. L.A. is as sunny as my hometown, and there's the sea, the mountains, the desert; it's the same thing, except it's somewhere else. It's definitely a big influence on this disc, but L.A. has always been fascinating to me, even from the movies. I was in love with Gregg Araki's Nowhere when I was a teen. Just the cliché of the palm trees, huge landscapes, the music scene. When you're a kid, it's everything.

Pitchfork: When I think of some of my favorite bands from France, like Phoenix or Daft Punk, they're relatively shy onstage. I mean, Daft Punk are literally wearing masks.

AG: It's hard. We're coming from France-- we never did anything right in rock'n'roll. Maybe we don't feel as confident as bands from America or the UK because it's not our culture. Our culture is people like [Serge] Gainsbourg, which is great, but it's very different. Being a French musician and touring in the UK or America is very intimidating.

"These weird memories about being a child made me melancholic, crying alone in my apartment, thinking about something I'll never be able to redo. This album is a tribute to those years of innocence where everything was perfect. "

Pitchfork: At first, I was thrown off by the song "Raconte-Moi Une Histoire", which has a little girl telling a story about a frog as the main vocal. But, the more I listen to it, it's actually pretty touching.

AG: When I was a kid, I had this cassette with someone telling these weird stories on it, and I was in love with it. My brother and I wrote the story for that song based on those cassettes. With that song, I wanted to start with something so ridiculous and basic and childish that then grows to something very touching and human. It's dangerous, but if you listen to it in the context of the album, it makes sense. There's always one song on my albums that people hate. I feel like that's going to be the case for this album, too. [laughs]

Pitchfork: Who's the little girl on that song?

AG: She's Justin's five-year-old daughter. She's amazing, a born actress. The first time I met her, she talked to me for 30 minutes non-stop: "Anthony, I had this dream." I didn't know her, and she was talking to me like I was a friend.

Pitchfork: A lot of your music retains this idea of child-like innocence. As you get older, do you feel like that's harder to get back to?

AG: When I first moved to L.A., I was feeling a bit weird. I was alone, working in my apartment, and suddenly I had these weird memories about being a child. It made me melancholic, crying alone in my apartment, thinking about something I'll never be able to redo. For me, this album is a tribute to those years of innocence where everything was perfect. I had the perfect childhood. My father was a policeman, and my mother sold fabric in her small store. They were very normal, very simple.

When you're young, you can do anything. And the more I grow up, the less I think that way. Through my music, I'm really trying to convince myself that I can do it. It's like therapy.

Pitchfork: Do you feel like that sort of escapism is irresponsible at all?

AG: It is very irresponsible. [laughs] I'm 30 years old, but I'm just a kid again. For me, the imaginary world is so much more powerful than real life, and I don't really want to be bothered by real life. I would rather live in an imaginary world forever. My music is my retreat.

Pitchfork: Now that you've completed something so big, are you worried about what you could possibly do next?

AG: [laughs] There's so much stuff I want to do. I want to do a hip-hop album with the M83 sound. I really want to do soundtracks. But I'm kind of lazy, too. I would do so much different stuff, but I'm just too scared of what people are going to think about it, you know? But maybe one day I will say, "Fuck you all, I'm gonna do this."