The career of Hannes d’Hoine has always been defined by a refusal to stay in one lane. An active member of the Antwerp experimental scene, d’Hoine’s musical DNA is apatchwork of influences—ranging from the high-energy spirit of Die Anarchistische Abendunterhaltung (DAAU) to stints in folk, jazz, free improv, and even theatrical 80s synth-pop queer madness. This restless trajectory eventually led to collaborations with icons like Toumani Diabaté and Tony Allen before he launched his solo project, Jon Doe One, in 2018.

His fourth album, Scrapyard Poetry, marks a significant turning point from the previous three. The five-year gap preceding this record was a period of intense transformation; d’Hoine stepped away from traditional performance to master Max/MSP and build his own experimental instruments, both software and hardware.

Scrapyard Poetry is a time document on this new path—a snapshot of a composer experimenting on the dividing line between contemporary classical music, jazz, algorithmic composing and sound art. To create it, d’Hoine invited a select group of musicians and friends into the studio for improvisational sessions. Rather than working from a score, the music emerged through dialogue; by talking before and during the sessions and giving clear instructions, Hannes guided the energy of the sessions. Only afterwards did he edit these sound fragments into a clear narrative.

The resulting album exudes these interesting contrasts: between the acoustic and the electronic, the organic and the artificial, the human and the technology. Playing around in a very tactile way, d’Hoine crafts his unique soundscapes by carefully stacking musical blocks upon one another, straddling the line between order and chaos. On the surface, the music sounds spontaneous and refreshing, whilst in deeper layers, complex sound structures are thoughtfully unfolded and broken down again.

Scrapyard Poetry feels as poetic as its title. It seems an auditory embodiment of the searching and doubting human being that Hannes d’Hoine actually is. He enters into dialogue with his instruments and his fellow musicians with open ears, gently exploring where opportunities for beauty might lie. The result is a tribute to the courage to keep trying as an artist, despite difficulties—approaching the sounds around you with a fundamental sense of uncertainty and capturing them with the necessary attention and care into a fragile sonic document. A delicate exercise in life itself, I suppose.

Mastered by: Yves De Mey.