‘It’s more productive than destructive scrolling’: Director Ben Wheatley talks about his secret life as musician Dave Wilder | music

DÁve Welder may be the most prolific musician you’ve never heard of. In just over a year, he has released an astonishing 26 recordings spanning electronica, dub, ambient, kosmische and drone. One of these albums, Thunderdrone, is over four hours long. Based in Brighton and Hove and described as “a rotating collective of musicians and artists”, Dave Wilder is in fact largely the work of one man who, until now, has been working in secret: film director Ben Wheatley.

“I’ve always wanted to make music,” says Wheatley, whose credits include the indie films High-Rise, Kill List and Sightseers, along with big-budget Hollywood films like the shark thriller Meg 2: The Trench. “I wanted to do it for my films but there was a dissonance. Of all the art forms, I couldn’t really understand it. I dreamed of being able to play, but then it was like, no, I can’t.”

After he started tinkering with GarageBand a few years ago, it quickly became an obsession. “It’s this weird flow state, where you’re sitting at the instrument and then this tune pops up and you’re like, ‘Oh, fuck,’” he says. “I’m listening and I don’t even know how I did some of it.” Making music can be a healthy distraction: “I might have work to do but I’m like, ‘I don’t want to do that, so I’ll play some music and then get back to it.’” Or alternatively, “a reward for doing things, whereas before it might have been playing games or scrolling to doom.” “It’s a more productive and creative way to calm down.”

Wheatley’s latest project is an experimental sci-fi film, Bulk – and for the first time, the music is composed by him (or Dave Wilder) as well. “One of the great things about making movies is that you work with amazing composers, and I was able to screw that up,” he says with a laugh. However, the feedback loop was an easier process. “The essence of being a composer is listening to directors, but fortunately for me, the director is me. So I’m like, ‘Oh yeah, that’s pretty good, dude!'”

Wheatley describes his approach to composing music for the screen as being in keeping with the Loose aesthetic: “very home-made, very handmade.” Delivering dialogue with comically comical dubbing, Sam Riley’s character, Corrie, explores multiple universes as the film slides between film noir and B-grade sci-fi film, with little interest in traditional narrative. In addition to writing, directing, and scoring the film, Wheatley also made all of the models used for the lo-fi special effects, and even hand-drawn the credits sequence.

These credits are reminiscent of a punk-style fanzine, with instructions on how to recreate the film and its soundtrack on the same primitive equipment he used, like iPhones and GarageBand. “There’s a drawback to it,” he says of the blanket approach. “Modern technology, at the same time as it inconveniences you, actually gives you the opportunity to make things and spread them.” The credits also pay tribute to some of Wheatley’s musical inspirations, including Fall, Neu! And Avex Twin.

Is this newfound playfulness and experimental musical production, and Bulk’s strong DIY ethos, a response to big projects like Meg 2 and its $130 million budget? “It’s all part of the same making,” he says. “It’s a reaction, but not in a negative way. After Meg, I did it [teen zombie drama] Generation Z that was different again. While making his next film, Normal, with Bob Odenkirk, he was still making his own music the whole time. “I would shoot a pop film and then come back at night and make stuff and listen to it. Listening to your music might sound like fun, but it’s one of the secret joys of it.

Wheatley caught this bug with such keen interest that he got ideas about creating new immersive experiences that combine music and film in movie theaters, incorporating stacked sound systems and custom narrative light shows. “Like a party but also a movie,” he says. “It would be a bad experience, but whether it makes any economic sense…I don’t know.”

There were also two secret live shows by Dave Welder, including one at London’s Cafe Oto. “People should listen to music, so it’s not a good idea to just put it out there and leave it in the back walls of the Internet forever,” he says. “I wanted to hear it through huge speakers. I’ve always tried to do different things, and playing live was just another one of those experiences, but I was sitting there going, ‘How the hell did I end up on the road that led me here?’ I’m really glad I’m doing it, but it’s weird.”