Interview with thisquietarmy ahead of Langue Hybride’s April 18 release
Transmission 176: Interview with thisquietarmy
thisquietarmy, the project of Montreal-based guitarist Eric Quach, has spent two decades expanding the sonic possibilities of drone, ambient, and post-rock. His latest album, Langue Hybride, out April 18, 2025, via Consouling Sounds/A Thousand Arms, emerged from a residency at the Centre d’Expérimentation Musical in Saguenay—Lac-St-Jean, Québec.
Artist: thisquietarmy
Release Date: 2025-04-18
Genres: Doom Metal, Drone, Experimental Music, Post-rock
Label: A Thousand Arms, Consouling Sounds, Eric Quach
Description: Interview with thisquietarmy on Langue Hybride, recorded during a Québec residency and released April 18 via Consouling Sounds.
Written and arranged in under a month, the album brings together jazz, classical, and rock musicians, pushing their styles into unfamiliar territory. A live-recorded experiment in structured improvisation, it marks one of Quach’s most ambitious works. In this interview, Eric talks about the creation of Langue Hybride, the shift from band to solo work, and the methods behind his evolving sound.
Featured image: Manon Cornieux
Looking back to when you first started making music, what sparked your initial drive to experiment with sound and eventually form thisquietarmy?
I never thought of myself as someone who would play an instrument. Being an introvert, I was never really drawn to this medium. I was always more into the visual arts. I used to draw and paint, and I thoroughly enjoyed discovering music. But at some point, painting stopped satisfying me, and at the same time, it became increasingly frustrating to find music that I truly enjoyed—especially during the late 90s and early 00s, when we were constantly bombarded by the American alt/grunge scene on the radio, where everything sounded the same.
I had always been drawn to the more experimental aspects of rock music and film soundtracks, such as Pink Floyd, Mike Oldfield, Jean-Michel Jarre, Philip Glass’s Koyaanisqatsi, and parts of Brian Eno-infused U2. But I knew there had to be more modern takes out there. I started looking elsewhere—into IDM, electronic ambient, dark ambient, gothic, and ethereal music such as lovesliescrushing—eventually exploring Krautrock/kosmische and rediscovering British shoegaze bands like MBV, Slowdive, and Ride. The local Montreal scene, too, was a huge eye-opener and a major inspiration to pick up the guitar and try making my own music.
Eventually, it became about finding a new medium of self-expression. While I didn’t necessarily identify with the traditional idea of playing guitar, these new musical horizons opened up the possibility of using the guitar not as a conventional instrument, but as a tone generator—creating walls of textures instead of familiar riffs. In essence, it was a mix of discovering my own voice through a new medium and taking matters into my own hands to create the sounds I wanted to hear.
This led me to research effect pedals to alter the signal, explore feedback and looping techniques, and dive into that black hole of experimentation and exploration. My goal was simple: to try to capture and reflect what I was feeling and what I wanted to hear—a sonic universe that was expressive, chaotic, beautiful, and immersive, in which I could lose myself.
My goal was simple: to try to capture and reflect what I was feeling and what I wanted to hear—a sonic universe that was expressive, chaotic, beautiful, and immersive, in which I could lose myself.
Destroyalldreamers marked your first major step into music. What lessons or experiences from that period influenced the formation of thisquietarmy?
I started making music later in life, while I had a full-time job. When I first started Destroyalldreamers, it was purely a hobby. We never expected it to go anywhere beyond simply trying our hand at making music. It was an exercise in understanding what music is and whether we were talented enough to create something worth listening to. After all, we were music fans who had been listening to music our entire lives, inspired by certain things we liked but always wanting more from the experience. In essence, we wanted to become that experience.
Destroyalldreamers became an intense relationship where we’d meet twice a week for five years. While the first album was easy and exciting to write and record—because the chemistry was fresh, the magic was present, the motivation was strong, and the goals were still out of reach—once we achieved our basic goals of releasing a real album and playing shows in front of hundreds of people, the pressure and expectations grew. Not necessarily from others, but from ourselves. The second album was more difficult to create. We were also trying to correct things we didn’t like about the first album. By the time we started working on new material, we felt like we had reached the limits of our creative chemistry, as well as the limits of our personalities clashing and our dynamics. Working as a band became increasingly difficult and frustrating.
On my end, I always had tons of ideas flowing as my sound and practice evolved. I became more interested in looping textures and creating atmosphere rather than finding and playing riffs. Some of those ideas worked in the context of the band, but integrating them into a rock setup wasn’t always easy. I continued working on my own songs in between band sessions, and I was progressing much faster on my own. I started improvising more, finding ways to create music that was satisfying and could stand on its own. Suddenly, making music became easy again—except now, I was doing it solo. The band naturally ceased activity due to life circumstances, and it just felt right to let it be.
You’ve described thisquietarmy as an “anti-band, anti-rule, anti-label” project. What drew you to that approach at the time?
My first label contract experience happened during the entire Destroyalldreamers era. As I mentioned earlier, after five years in a band, doing things on my own felt like a huge weight was lifted off my shoulders. I felt freer to explore music outside of a band setting, starting fresh without the pressure of having to sound like the band, or conform to the labels’ expectations. It was like getting out of multiple dysfunctional relationships with many people at once. Don’t get me wrong—I’m proud of what I accomplished during that period. But it was simply time to move on, to grow, and to learn from that experience.
Montreal has a long history with experimental and post-rock scenes. How did the local atmosphere shape your earliest projects?
Obviously, seeing many cozy, intimate DIY concerts up close and being part of a niche scene was a huge source of inspiration. I frequented Casa del Popolo since it opened, as there was always something interesting happening—whether it was an Alien8 Recordings showcase with acts like Tim Hecker, or performances by bands like Godspeed, Fly Pan Am, and Shalabi Effect in loft spaces, or anything connected to Constellation Records bands, local DIY punk shows, and noise rock concerts. It wasn’t just a source of musical inspiration, but also a philosophy—a way of life.
It was the era when high-quality home recording became possible, aligning with DIY ethics by being proactive and taking matters in your own hands. Burning CDs, printing your own artwork, cutting them, and making proper albums you could sell on your website or distribute to stores around the world… That’s how I started Thisquietarmy Records. I also began releasing albums by other acts and built a network of friends and fans all over the world in the process—hence my anti-label stance, as mentioned earlier. Beyond the well-known names, everyone you encountered in the scene was doing something: playing in a band, promoting a gig, putting out a record, building pedals, screen-printing shirts and posters, etc. In the end, we just wanted to be part of a community.
What was your first live performance experience like with thisquietarmy, and how has your perspective on performing changed since then?
My first live performance was at a record store to promote my first EP. It was a pretty low-key event with only a handful of people. I remember my sound being quite limited by a single speaker combo amplifier, and it felt overly saturated and mid-range heavy. Six months later, I was playing with two amplifiers in stereo, but the sound was still sharp and harsh. I experimented with different amps, including tube amps and bass amps, before eventually starting to play directly into the PA system to take advantage of the full, clean range of sound.
From a practical standpoint, this shift meant I had fewer things to carry, which made my setup much more mobile. And once I got used to playing at different venues with varying PAs, it made solo touring a much more realistic possibility, much like it is for electronic musicians. However, since the pandemic, I’ve started experimenting with amps again.
You recently completed a music residency that shaped ‘Langue Hybride.’ How did working with unfamiliar musicians influence your creative direction? How did the environment of Saguenay—Lac-St-Jean, Québec, influence the mood and atmosphere of ‘Langue Hybride’?
I didn’t prepare anything for the residency, as I was coming off a long European tour and had also been performing with different collaborators so my mind wasn’t yet geared towards this endeavour. During the first week of the residency, I met with the musicians one by one and jammed with each of them to get to know them and see how their individual styles could be integrated into the composition. As someone who is self-taught and doesn’t read music, working with session musicians might have seemed intimidating at first. However, my collaborative approach has always been about letting everyone try things out and essentially play what they feel, which I then shape to my liking.
Even though Saguenay is only 4-5 hours away from Montreal, I’d never been there—strange, considering I’ve traveled to perform as far as Asia, South America, and across most of Europe. I made it a goal during the residency to explore my surroundings, capturing images and videos of landscapes, buildings, and scenes that caught my attention. These were later incorporated into the live performance of the residency. I really wanted to immerse myself in the environment and get a feel for the history of the land, the settlements, the surrounding towns, the industrial landscapes contrasted with the majestic nature.
During the residency, we were coming off severe forest fires across Quebec, and there was a lot of unease and anxiety, especially with world politics, wars, and climate change. But it was also summer, in the middle of the fjords, rivers, wilderness, with whales and blueberries… I think this created a stark contrast between heaviness and beauty within the music.
Can you share a particularly intense or indelible moment from the recording of ‘Langue Hybride’?
One major source of stress was my lack of musical knowledge and vocabulary, as well as the divide within the group between the trained jazz/rock musicians, who were completely into jamming and improvisation, and the classical musicians, who were used to reading music and strictly following written parts. The classical musicians were often waiting for clear instructions.
This was a creative residency where I was open to everyone’s input on my ideas, but it was incredibly challenging and overwhelming to communicate without relying on musical theory. At the same time, I had to figure out what the songs were, what I wanted to play, and how to lead the group towards sound compositions that could still be identifiable as Thisquietarmy—all at once.
We had to make a collective effort to find common ground, pushing everyone outside their comfort zones, communicating with diagrams, color codes, moodboards and expressive wording rather than musical notes. In the end, the experience was beneficial to all, and the album title Hybrid Language in parts refers to how this dilemma was resolved. We encouraged the classical musicians to come up with ideas and create parts. The jazz musicians had to adjust and follow a more structured approach so we could all move forward in the same direction. One of my favorite moments was when we decided to hook up the cellist with some effect pedals in her rig and simply told her to try things out, loosen up and have fun!
You described ‘Langue Hybride’ as possibly your most ambitious work. What made it feel that way for you compared to previous releases?
The purpose of the residency was to gather a team of collaborating musicians to help bring my sonic ideas to life. Without any material in mind, I proposed the idea of having one or two additional guitarists, a bass player, a drummer, a violinist, and a cellist. This was the most instruments and collaborators I’d ever had on a recording as Thisquietarmy.
In less than a month, we had to write and prepare one hour of music to perform live by the end of the residency, in front of an audience, filmed and recorded. Everything moved quickly, and I was working intensively on the music almost every day—after every rehearsal session, rearranging structures, and coming up with new parts and ideas for the next jam. By the end of week 2, we barely had a complete song. I had to find a way to speed things up, so I ended up writing a couple of full songs on my own to complete the task. By the end of week 3, we were already setting up in the live room, and the songs were supposed to be ready, but we were still tweaking things up until the day before the show.
In the end, it’s pretty amazing how the whole record came together—the writing, the arrangements, the performance, and the recording were all done on the spot. It’s probably the equivalent of a year or two’s worth of work condensed into just one month.
What are some pieces of gear or equipment that have been essential in shaping the sound of thisquietarmy?
I’ve used more or less the same pedals for the last 20 years, with a few changes and additions here and there. My setup usually includes auto-volume/synth effects, fuzz, pitch shifters, delays, modulations, and multiple loop pedals—these are the tools I use to shape my sound. My favorite guitar is my red Japanese Fender Jaguar with humbuckers, tuned to open C, but I also use a Telecaster in standard tuning. For this album, the JC-120 amp and the Orange Terror Bass were essential to my sound. I also used a Korg synth, which was part of the residency’s backline.
With over 40 releases on more than 25 labels, how do you decide which label fits best for a particular release?
Over the years, I’ve worked with many labels, but the ones I have the best relationships with are Consouling Sounds in Belgium and Midira Records in Germany. Generally speaking, I like to work with Consouling Sounds for post-rock/metal albums and do co-releases with A Thousand Arms for the US. For my more groundbreaking experimental electronic drone records, I tend to work with Midira. Other types of records, such as documents, improvised jams, or one-off live performances, I usually send to smaller labels, who often release them as tapes or limited CDs. When a label approaches me, I usually find the right project for us to work on based on my current projects and their ambitions.
I also do a lot of collaborative records, sometimes under different project names, with varying circumstances. For example, with Away, the drummer from Voivod, the records are released under “Thisquietarmy x Away” and were put out on vinyl by the Quebec-based label P572 during the pandemic, as we were focused on supporting local businesses. Away had also previously released something with Utech Records, so they were involved in the cassette version.
In my collaboration with Aidan Girt, the drummer from Godspeed You! Black Emperor, our duo is called Some Became Hollow Tubes, and our records have been released by labels like Gizeh and Ripcord Records. Collaborative records with Year of No Light were released by a French label they were friends with. My collaboration with Noveller was released on Shelter Press, and my Berlin-based band Hypnodrone Ensemble—an extended collaboration with Nadja’s Aidan Baker—is mostly released by Wolves & Vibrancy. My Montreal-based collective, Pangea de Futura, released on SubRosa, among many others.
Beyond ‘Langue Hybride,’ are there other projects or ideas you’re currently developing that you can share a glimpse of?
Aside from the different projects I’ve mentioned, I’m most excited about my new band, Tempête Solaire, where I play double-string bass through effects, alongside Eric Craven (from Hangedup, 1/4 Tonne, HRSTA, Silver Mt. Zion, etc.) on drums and Elyze Venne-Deshaies on sax. We’re having a lot of fun working on something more rhythm-based, but also very psychedelic, krautrock, groovy, and free jazz.
After 20 years of Thisquietarmy, it feels like a renewal of creative energy and presents a new challenge to compose music regularly, with a different instrument, and consistently with other people. We’ve already released an EP and are working on a full album, with a number of local shows lined up for this summer.
I also have a couple of collaborative Thisquietarmy albums with Otay:onii ready to be released. They’ll follow up Langue Hybride, through the labels No Gold, Cruel Nature Records, and Katuktu Collective. There’s also more material in the works with drummer Tom Malmendier, which we recorded during our last European tour last year, as well as a project with Kapitur’s cellist/vocalist Bruna Wanderley, who performs as Mothrspace.
Photos courtesy of thisquietarmy
Matteo Damiani is an Italian photographer and author. Curator of the sites Retrofuturista.com; weirditaly.com; china-underground.com and others
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