What are your names? 
There is only one person behind TDID : Thierry WAHL. I write, compose, arrange, produce, and mix everything myself. The female vocals featured on the album are generated using innovative software, carefully selected and shaped to serve the emotional tone of each track.  There are no other permanent members involved in the creative process.

What is the bands name? 
The project is called TDID.

How did you come up with the bands name? 
TDID stands for The Dissociated Inner Dialogues. The name merges “TDI” and “DID” — both referring to Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID in English and TDI : Trouble Dissociatif de l’Identité in French — but it’s not a diagnosis. It’s a creative method. Every track I compose comes from a different voice, a different state, a different fragment of self. TDID is not about finding unity — it’s about using fragmentation as a tool. The name came naturally once I accepted that I don’t write from a single, fixed identity. It’s not a band name. It’s a structure built to hold chaos in place.

What is your genre of music? 
I stay within the dark music spectrum. That’s my territory — whether it’s post-punk, darkwave, EBM, gothic rock or something more experimental.  Each album explores a different facet of that darkness. XX Phlegmatic, the one we’re talking about here, moves between post-punk and dark folk, with a strong focus on atmosphere and feminine voices.  The previous album was more electronic, rooted in EBM and industrial influences. The next one — coming out on May 1st, 2025 — will dive into gothic rock and darkwave, with a heavier sound and only male vocals.  TDID doesn’t follow a fixed genre. I follow the mood. And the mood always stays dark.

Give us a little bio about you / What made you go into music? 
I’ve been passionate about music for years — going to concerts, festivals, dark clubs… but I never created anything myself until recently.  It all started when my son began taking piano lessons. We bought a piano to help him practice, and I started learning with him — basic solfège, simple exercises. That curiosity led me to explore forums about music production, and one day I downloaded a DAW just to see what I could do.  From there, it became an obsession. I discovered plugins, experimented with structure, built my first tracks, and worked on finding the right voices. I trained myself in mixing and mastering, took online courses, and step by step, I built my first album: XY Bloody. That’s when TDID was born.  That first album was more like a test — a solid one, but made with beginner’s hands. Most tracks still hold up today, but I made mistakes I wouldn’t repeat now. With the second album, XX Phlegmatic, I reached a new level — better sound design, stronger mixes, and a clearer artistic direction.  Music is a lifelong learning process. And with each release, I try to go deeper — technically, emotionally, conceptually.

Who are your influences? 
My influences span the entire dark musical spectrum — not just in sound, but in emotional intent and aesthetic. I’ve always been drawn to artists who don’t entertain, but disturb, haunt, or elevate through tension and contrast. 

· Ethereal: Dead Can Dance, Ordo Equitum Solis, This Mortal Coil — for their sense of ritual, their ability to suspend time, and the way they blend melancholy with something almost sacred. They taught me the importance of atmosphere over structure. 

· Gothic Rock: Fields of the Nephilim, Love Like Blood, Sweet William — for their dramatic intensity, the fusion of weight and grace in the vocals, and the guitars that feel like chants rather than riffs. They showed me how darkness can be majestic. 

· Post-punk: Joy Division, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Bauhaus — because they created space for the unsaid. The raw basslines, the tension in the drums, and the theatricality of the voices all shaped my sense of musical storytelling. 

· Cold wave: And Also the Trees, Snake Corps, Siglo XX — for their restraint, their elegance, and their poetic minimalism. These bands taught me how to say more by doing less. 

· EBM: Front 242, Front Line Assembly, Skinny Puppy — they brought me rhythm and structure. The way they manipulate aggression and precision helped me understand how to make a track physical, not just emotional. 

· Dark Electro: Suicide Commando, Wumpscut, Numb — for their unapologetic brutality and their layered sound design. They reminded me that darkness doesn’t have to whisper — it can also scream. 

· Industrial: Dive, Wired Brain, Blackhouse — these are raw, unfiltered artists who leave no room for comfort. Their minimalism and obsession with repetition influenced my approach to sonic tension and catharsis. 

I don’t follow genres — I follow emotional weight. And all these names helped me carry it.

Are you a signed? 

No. And I don’t want to be. 

Labels want clean boxes, fixed genres, stable products. DID doesn’t tick any of those boxes — and never will. One album is post-punk, the previous is EBM, the third dives into gothic rock. Some tracks whisper. Others scream. That’s not a bug. It’s the core of the project. 

I refuse to let a business model shape my sound. I’ve never contacted a label. I’ve never begged for attention.  I create what I want, when I want, how I want. It’s not just independence — it’s self-preservation. 

If that means staying out of the system, so be it.  At least I’m still breathing.

Describe each track from the album ‘Xx Phelgmatic’ in two words.

Ghostly Maze — A hypnotic journey through sorrow and remembrance, where the past whispers through fog and synths. 

Caught in the Web — A descent into obsession and deceit, where every feeling becomes a trap and escape feels like betrayal. 

Break the Chains — A poetic struggle between chaos and redemption, led by ghostly whispers and crowned by a soaring guitar solo that breaks through the darkness. 

Eclipsed Dwellings — A slow fading world where islands sink, memories vanish, and time quietly devours everything once held dear. 

Under Stars — A celestial journey through shadows and whispers, where spirits drift beneath the stars in search of forgotten light. 

Shadow Dance — One of the most beloved tracks from XX Phlegmatic, captivating listeners with its hauntingly beautiful vocals, ethereal melodies, and hypnotic rhythms. 

Silent Battlefield — The chilling atmosphere evokes the weight of history, as the living wander a deserted battlefield, searching for the spirits of their fallen companions. 

Mermaids Weep — A haunting darkwave ballad, capturing the ghostly beauty and tragedy of dying seas. 

Whispers of Silence — A stark denunciation of sexual abuse hidden within religious institutions, where victims are silenced under the weight of fear and guilt. 

Crystal Tears — A portrait of irreversible rupture, where crystal tears fall and shatter the illusions of the past. 

Animal Suffering — An exploration of the invisible torment of caged animals, with howls echoing through cold walls and the imprint of human disregard.

What was the writing and recording process like? 
I started composing because I felt something was missing in the music I was hearing. Many of the new bands in my favorite genres didn’t move me anymore. So I told myself: if what you love no longer exists — make it yourself. 

My writing process is instinctive. I create what I want to hear in that exact moment. That’s why I can go from composing a post-punk track to an aggrotech banger right after. I don’t set out to make an album — I chase personal pleasure and creative impulse. 

Once a track is done, I store it in a folder by genre. When I have enough material that fits together emotionally and thematically, I begin to shape it into an album. 

Even if the tracks weren’t written in one continuous session, they often resonate with each other. The subjects that haunt me in daily life — identity, loss, societal decay, ecological anxiety — are constant. If the songs don’t form a cohesive narrative or mood, I don’t release them as an album. It has to feel like one story. 

That’s why I now have unreleased material across multiple genres, waiting for the right constellation to emerge. 

There’s one theme I keep coming back to above all: climate change, and the political denial that surrounds it. I’m planning a concept album entirely built around that — where each song follows a progression through despair, collapse, and perhaps… resistance.

Who did you work with on the album? 
No one. I don’t collaborate on any track — not for writing, not for producing, not for decisions. I create for my own pleasure above all, and that doesn’t require anyone else’s opinion. 

At the very beginning, I tried sharing some ideas and asking for feedback. But I quickly realized that even two people who love the same genre, or the same song, will often respond to very different elements within it. 

Maybe I was proud of a violin passage, or a subtle trumpet in the mix — and someone else wanted to cut it entirely. That kind of compromise didn’t make sense to me. 

I trust one thing only: my emotional response when I listen. If it moves me, I keep it. 

And I share the result with listeners who are moved by the same things — the same textures, the same shadows, the same tension. 

There are thousands of bands because there are thousands of ways to hear. I’m not here to dilute my vision — I’m here to feed what’s different.

Can we expect a music video for any of the tracks and if so tell us more about the making. 
No, not for now — and probably not later either. 

I handle everything in TDID: songwriting, mixing, mastering, promotion… and I do it all while having a full-time job, a family, close friends, and another passion on the side. My time and energy are already fully invested in four pillars — and I’m still learning and evolving within each of them. I don’t want to dilute that by adding something that isn’t essential to me. 

The other reason is more personal: I’m an auditory person, not a visual one, especially when it comes to music. Even at concerts, I sometimes close my eyes for long stretches just to let the sound take over. Stage presence, visuals, lights — they matter, but they don’t move me like a well-placed chord or a shift in texture. 

So no, there are no music videos planned. And honestly, it’s not even a long-term goal. I’d rather sharpen the sound than decorate it.

Do you have any live shows coming up? 

No shows planned for now — but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t want to. 

Even though I’m not a visually driven person, I truly enjoy the kind of emotional connection that happens during live performances. There’s something unique in that shared moment — the intensity, the vulnerability, the silence between notes. 

That said, my tracks are fully created through computer-based production. Performing them live as-is wouldn’t bring the kind of impact audiences expect. But while I don’t want anyone involved in the creative process, I’m open to the idea of forming a live band — one that would recreate my sound acoustically or organically on stage. 

I’m not actively looking for that. But if the right people — passionate, aligned, committed — were to show up, I wouldn’t say no. I’m open. The music just needs to feel alive.

What else can we expect in 2025? 
2025 will be a prolific year.

On May 1st, I’ll release XY Phlegmatic — a gothic rock album featuring exclusively male voices (except for one male/female duet). It’s heavier, darker, and more physical than XX Phlegmatic, exploring masculinity through shadow and distortion. 

Then on September 4th, I’ll release XX Melancholic — the counterpart to XY. This album will feature only female voices, and the sound will drift toward ethereal, dark folk and melancholic ballads. Much softer, more intimate, and emotionally bare — it’s a descent into stillness rather than struggle. 

Two sides of the same coin — but never symmetrical. 

Some people have suggested I should split my work into different projects for each genre. I understand the reasoning — but I’ve made a deliberate choice not to. 

When I used to go to dark and gothic clubs, all the styles I now create were played in the same night — often by the same DJ, and always in the same spirit. Nobody was confused. Nobody complained. It was — and still is — one big, dark family. 

Also, I’ve always admired Bill Leeb. He’s been behind at least eleven different bands. I only discovered five of them, and even those took me time to connect because I didn’t realize he was behind them all. I probably missed six more simply because they had different names. If he had released everything under Front Line Assembly, I wouldn’t have missed a thing. 

So I prefer to keep everything under TDID — a single entity with many voices, many styles, many faces. I’d rather build one monster with a thousand heads than scatter my soul across a dozen aliases.

Where do you see yourself now in 5 Years? 
Right now, I’m still deep in learning mode — refining the four pillars that define TDID: musical creation, mixing, mastering, and promotion. And honestly, I don’t think that ever really ends. I always need to learn something new to stay alive artistically. 

Will I get into music videos? Probably not. 

But will I move toward live performance — maybe solo, like Dive, Insekt or Brighter Death Now? 

Or form an acoustic band to reinterpret my tracks live? 

Or maybe even build some kind of visual performance show around the sound? 

That feels much more likely. 

I don’t have a fixed destination. 

I’m following the notes — they’ll tell me where to go.

What quote or saying do you always stick by? 
“I am of the color of those who are persecuted.”  — Alphonse de Lamartine 

This sentence has always stayed with me. 
It’s not just a literary quote — it’s a stance. A way of seeing the world. A reminder that art should never flatter power or indifference. 

In TDID, I often speak from the margins — for those who are silenced, isolated, hurt, or fading.  This line reminds me why I do it.

When you are at a gig, what are 5 things you cannot forget? 
Since I haven’t performed live yet, I’ll answer this as a spectator — and I’m a very focused one. 

Sound quality — If the live sound is worse than what I can hear at home, something’s off. I come to a concert for sonic immersion, not for a downgrade. 

Volume — I’ve lived in apartments most of my life, so concerts are a chance to feel the music physically. But volume must be adjusted — not ear-shattering, just powerful and right for the venue and genre. 

The audience’s behavior — I can’t stand people yelling or singing over the band during the songs. I come to hear the artist, not the fans. 

That said, between songs, it’s the opposite: I love when the crowd goes wild, shows appreciation, and creates real energy. That contrast matters. 

The setlist — Whether the band plays the songs people are waiting for or skips key tracks — that always leaves a mark on me. I don’t mind surprises, but I do care about intention. 

Stage presence — Some bands elevate their music live. Others just stand there and dilute the experience. A concert isn’t just about sound — it’s about connection, embodiment, intensity. If you’re on stage, own it.

Do you have social media accounts so your fans can follow you? 
Yes — you can find TDID on several platforms: 

Official website
Facebook
Instagram
SoundCloud
Bandcamp

I regularly post updates, lyrics, reflections, and new releases there. Each platform shows a different face of TDID — just like the music itself.