Paul St. Hilaire brushes off making some of the most foundational records in electronic music history to continue with theories of mind control in a hushed voice. Interchangeably a man of few words and an explosive conversationalist, he keeps the details of his own story and untouchable discography blurry, but has a lot else on his mind.

Since the early '90s, Paul has been singing and playing guitar in reggae and dub bands, first in Dominica and then Germany. A line of what he calls "discrete music" led from heady dub to the work he is best known for, his collaborations with Mark Ernestus and Moritz von Oswald, AKA Rhythm & Sound. Together, they laid down the blueprint for meditative dub techno in Showcase and other classics like "Na Fe Throw It" or "Find A Way." He changed his alias from Tikiman to his birth name in 2003 after a legal dispute, but it mattered little. You hear Paul's voice and there is no doubting who's on mic.

In 2001, Paul started his own label, False Tuned, under the Basic Channel umbrella. It was mainly a home for his solo music, as well as a couple of contributors like René Löwe and Jean-Marie Aerts. Over five years, Paul released a string of singles and two albums of soulful dub and lovers rock. All the while, he continued collaborating with techno artists. He toured the world with Substance and Vainqueur as Scion & Tikiman, or just jumped on sets at the legendary Berlin party Wax Treatment. He has since found kindred spirits in Rhauder and Deadbeat, who both continue to supply him with fresh takes on dub techno. Paul's soft tones and charismatic storytelling turn drum loops into feel-good or thought-provoking anthems.

His early lyrics were based on classic reggae themes of liberation, love, unity and hardship, but as he grows, it's what we don't know that matters most. Twenty-five years on from the plantation stories of "What A Mistry," he is looking further back to the history of the planet and how deeply rooted power dynamics manifest today. Among the eavesdropping cherry trees and war games of his most recent album with Deadbeat lies a nervy feeling of psychedelic dystopia, destiny and an invisible enemy.

Let's start with your early experiences of music in Dominica.

I've been doing music since I left school. My neighbour had the biggest soundsystem in my village, Grand Bay. I was going there, turning and changing records. Just to listen, not thinking I was a DJ. Then I was in bands like Eradication Squad and then Golden Squad, playing guitar or drums and singing.

I lived in the band house, my brother's house, Ras Perez, and everybody came there. The villagers said we're crazy because we sometimes rehearsed at 5 AM, the church bell would be ringing the same time we start. What a thing!

Were you also playing the traditional, carnival music of the island?

I never had an inclination to this side of music. I call it the drinking side. I liked music with more discretion. I know the music and can play it but the spirituality is different. Cadence, we call it. Nothing against it, it's my people's music but for me it's unstable, like a rolling barrel with lots of sounds slamming. The king of Cadence is my neighbour, Chubby from the Midnight Groovers, so I was always close to this music. When I came to Europe and heard techno, it reminded me of that, there were some similarities. Cadence then turned into Zouk, something like Haitian Kompa, which is sometimes a little bit slower. Nowadays, we have a kind of music in my country called Bouyon, which is very fast. One of the most popular Bouyon artists, Asa Bantan, is from my village, too. First in the 1970s they started with the Cadence and it goes from there, you know. My village always plays a role.

How are your records received in the Caribbean?

Most people don't know what I have been doing. But those that follow, they respect me, for what I do now and for my work in music before I left Dominica. I'm different to most and not too flamboyant in this aspect, to go on the national radio, giving the wrong impression.

How did you end up in Germany?

I was invited to Germany by a friend in Hannover, Felix Wolter. He had the band The Vision and worked with Savage, a friend and musician from Grand Bay. This was in 1992. Then later, I came to Berlin and I was around the Berlin reggae scene. I played a lot with Ras Donovan and Raggamuffin Alex. I was lead singer for the band Livin' Spirits and we performed extensively all over. That was a nice time.

And you started working with Rhythm & Sound.

Yes, around 1994 or 1995, I connected with Mark [Ernestus, of Rhythm & Sound]. That was through a bredda from Such A Sound, Stephan. The techno Rhythm & Sound were doing didn't have all these ornaments all over the place. My Dominican music I told you about, Cadence, it's full of brass and melody. What I heard from Mark and Moritz was different, it's just a strong beat and rhythm.

When you made the first records with Rhythm & Sound, did you sense you were onto something special?

I just went to their studio and checked the vibes, that's all. They had a good part of the track ready and I did the vocal, laid-back. Later they completed it and made the records. They are from the stars, man. Everything has a reason.

Tell me about the music you were making solo.

I made a lot of tunes, mostly a different thing, my personality. All the life is tunes. I lost a lot of tunes because of broken hard disks but I'm proud because they are existing somewhere out there in the universe.

As I grow, I see things different and I write songs to deal with the real issues, sincere things. Not just nursery rhymes. But these things are not always accepted.

People on a dance floor usually don't want to think about anything too meaningful.

Right. It's not good to be on a dance floor all the time, where it's so loud. Remember, according to the Bible, when Moses brought back the commandments, the people were on a dance floor. When I play live, I don't talk too much. Man come and sing, it's enough.

And what to say? Nothing is true, my bredda, nothing is true. It's just a big story and everybody is living the myth. The history of the planet, nobody is talking about it. We know about all foolishness but we don't know the true history of the planet. We spend time and energy trying to define all our little differences and holding parties and fighting wars but we need to look further back. What is the real reason we are here? And why are there things and sites we don't understand on the planet?

What about the Dogons and their knowledge? In Mali. These people outlined the galaxy long before anyone else. There is so much they should talk about in the media and also in the curriculums all over. The media knows but it's all pee-pee-pee-pee, quiet like mosquitoes. There is no big bumblebee noise about the evidence.

So you subtly sing about these things?

I sing about our ancestors, our history. I grow and as time goes by I see things different. There is the history we know plus many other things we don't understand. We are prisoners here in some sense. We are the lowest in the class system, going up to the end of the big dipper or the draconian constellation of stars.

On your latest album with Deadbeat, the lyrics are darker and the track "Mind Control" sounds like something new for you.

How the voice sounds on "Mind Control" is just a little use of technology. Some have related the lyrics of the new album to the wicked times we are living in right now. As an artist, I am merely a messenger, conveying the relevant narratives which can be sometimes taken as dystopian, sometimes as utopian. And the world was already dark before 2020.

Do you identify as a spiritual or religious person?

That depends how different people decode them words. There is an immortal, spiritual being in you, you know. You will die and come back, man, you can come back blacker than blue. That's all we can do here. Until we can escape the electronic force screen.

Tell me about what you have in the studio.

Mixer, bass, the modular system, computer, different things.

How does the modular system fit into your songs? It's not a typical instrument for acoustic dub music.

I'm always trying to think about how to change the sound a little. There's nothing new under the sun but we can package things different. So with the modular I just focus on one particular element.

This tune I'm making now [starts strumming guitar], it's really like jazz. I want to get a pianist to play on it, but then I also want some pure sound from the modular on top. So you really feel the twists and the electricity. Put it all together with the guitar notes and you have something happening. It's not just do-re-mi-fa-so-la-ti-do, there's a lot of maths.

Is there something specific you're looking for in the instrumentals you vocal? From Rhauder or Deadbeat, for example.

It just has to sound good. I don't need too much space. I like when there is support in the music so I'm not alone. Scott [Deadbeat] is my brother from another mother, he gets it. Rhauder too, and many others.

Sometimes people send me a track, OK. I perceive something so I sing it, send it to them and they start changing it. For me, it just changes the vibes. It's intended to make space for me but I don't need space, it changes how I perceive the sound. Also sometimes parts are deleted, or my voice is processed and compressed much too loud. I like the '70s and '80s style of recording vocals, well balanced in the music. Whisper singing kind of thing.

A lot of your music is made in collaborations.

That's how it is, man, you can't blow against the wind. I have one tune that goes "never agaaaa-inst the wind..." It will knock you down. But it goes in cycles and after a while I might just be doing my thing alone.

How does it work for the live shows in clubs?

Musically, nothing changes. It's just how I'm feeling. That beat, dum-dum-dum. It's the rhythm and it's the sound, you and the public, that's all there is. With Scion, when we were billed as a live set, then I had to put a bit more vocals because I'm on stage and it's a show. But some of the riddims don't need it. I prefer to say a little ting and stay out of the light.