Nick Hinman Interview: How a Polish Divination Deck Became the Visual DNA of Fast Money Music’s Debut

Transmission 329: Interview with Fast Money Music

Nick Hinman is an American songwriter and producer based in East London. Following a period producing and co-writing for other artists, he transitioned to a solo capacity under the moniker Fast Money Music, a title referencing a track by the New York duo Suicide. His debut self-titled LP, scheduled for release on April 17, 2026, functions as a chronological assembly of vignettes written over a decade across San Francisco, New York, Los Angeles, and London.

Title: Fast Money Music
Artist: Fast Money Music
Genres: Art Rock, Indie Rock, Post-punk
Label: Fast Money Music
Description: Nick Hinman of Fast Money Music talks his self-titled debut LP on Nice Swan Records, out April 17 — tough nostalgia, Suicide, and ten years of vignettes.

Fast Money Music has performed at venues across Dalston and at Supersonic Paris, with upcoming appearances scheduled for The Great Escape 2025 and a UK tour supporting Tempesst.

How does the “grit” of East London compare to your American roots in your songwriting?

I think your environment naturally plays an integral role in creative writing, since it’s the most immediate thing that shapes you. I grew up outside San Francisco, so the climate was definitely sunnier and warmer than London, but I never really felt the urge to write about it. I was always drawn to music coming out of the UK, especially in the late 70s and early 80s. It had a darker, more introspective veneer, which felt mysterious and urgent, regardless of what the lyrics were actually about. I remember the first time I heard “Ceremony” by New Order when I was like 16 or 17 and thinking to myself, if I end up making music, I want to make music like this.

The debut album is really a carousel of images from different environments I’ve found myself in. Some come from living in New York, some from Los Angeles, and others from places in between. I’ve always been more interested in what exists between the cracks and beneath the surface, whether it’s physical or metaphysical. Living in East London definitely helps me tap into that inspiration for Fast Money Music.

What triggered the shift from producer to solo artist with Fast Money Music?

I always enjoyed producing and co-writing music for other artists, and I think the best work comes from authenticity. I was sitting on a lot of unfinished tracks of my own, new ones that felt raw and unfiltered, and I realized I’d always regret never releasing them.

So I just started putting out music with no real expectation or agenda. They were these little vignettes written over the years. Once I started letting them go, new songs began writing themselves, and Fast Money Music was born.

Where does the project name come from? Is it a critique of the industry or something else?

The project name started as a fairly straightforward homage to a song off the second Suicide album, I’ve always been a big fan of Alan Vega and Martin Rev. 

There’s a double entendre there as well, since it feels like more honest and genuine songwriting than I’d done previously, so that calling it Fast Money Music had a bit of a tongue-in-cheek irony to it. Labeling heartfelt introspective songs as Fast Money Music has a playful quality that can still take itself quite seriously. 

How has the local scene in Dalston influenced your songwriting style?

I try to pop into the Shacklewell Arms and other local venues whenever I can to see what bands and artists are doing and how they’re doing it. The level of musicianship coming out of East London right now is pretty impressive, and more often than not I find something new and unexpected.

I wouldn’t say I adapt to fit in, but seeing great bands can definitely make you rethink or rediscover parts of yourself as a songwriter if inspiration strikes.

Are there any artists or photographers who influence how you “see” your music?

Lately I’ve been drawn to bold color blocking. I really like the simplicity of how Martin Newell from Cleaners From Venus approached his album artwork, that DIY aesthetic of his own little hand-drawn postcards and one color per album.

I went down a bit of a rabbit hole while working out the art direction for the LP and discovered this divination deck that circulated in communist Poland on a card collector website. It was made by Ewa Hadydoń in the 1980s and had gone out of print, but someone had found a copy and scanned it online. It had this surreal, abstract style that I instantly fell in love with. I adapted elements of it into song cards so each single had its own visual story. My partner Natasha Somerville designed and illustrated them, and my friend Louis Gilbert actually animated them afterwards. The cards ended up being the aesthetic foundation of the album.

Does choosing a self-titled title for the LP feel like you’ve finally distilled all your different influences into one cohesive identity?

That was the intention. The album is anchored in what Mikko Gordon and I started calling “tough nostalgia” during pre-production, because it felt like the sonic glue that held together the record.

The songs blend genres and influences that all sit somewhere within my sonic palette. Some lean more angular and rhythmic, like Lover Boy and There Are No Words, while others fall into a more nostalgic art-pop space, like Round and Round or Crocodile Tears. They’re different ideas cut from the same cloth, which ultimately defines the identity of Fast Money Music.

In “Round and Round,” is the “loop” of memory a comfort or a prison?

It’s definitely both. I’m a creature of habit, and I find a lot of comfort in routine. But it can also feel compulsive and detrimental if you can’t escape it.

Replaying the what-ifs and could-have-beens can make you feel stuck inside a memory that will never change. There’s a romanticism to nostalgia, but at what point do fantasy and escapism become delusion? At the same time, if the memory itself is painful, you shouldn’t punish yourself forever. I wrote the song with the hopeful intention of letting go, being present, and breaking the cycle.

Working with engineers who have shaped massive records, how did they influence the way you handle silence or negative space in your tracks?

I’m very comfortable with space and silence in songs. I tend to lean toward minimalism. If I find myself layering more and more on top of a track to fix something, it’s usually a sign the core idea isn’t working to begin with.

Mikko and I share that instinct. We both appreciate imperfections and negative space. At the same time, I do like a bit of controlled chaos, so when the energy explodes and everything hits at once, I want it to actually mean something. I’m not sure those moments were always fun for Mikko to mix, but we found the balance in the end.

Is there a common thread behind that connects all the tracks of the album?

There are a couple. On a sonic level, Mikko and I built a palette of sounds and patches that became a template for the record, and the rhythmic backbone of every song was recorded in the same studio.

There’s also a common sentiment as well, which I think comes from my own longing for truth and trying to understand who I am through conflict and (sometimes) resolution. I think mostly it’s my own meditation on the human condition. It consistently baffles me, but I’d probably be more worried if it didn’t.

Photo courtesy of Fast Money Music

Matteo Damiani

Matteo Damiani is an Italian photographer and author. Curator of the sites Retrofuturista.com; weirditaly.com; china-underground.com and others