Beyond the Drop: Anish Sood on Craft, Control, and Creative Freedom

Anish Sood has mastered the art of reinvention. From his early days as a celebrated DJ and producer on the global electronic stage to his latest incarnation as Anyasa—where Indian classical vocals meet immersive, introspective soundscapes—Anish embraces change as a creative necessity. For him, every new chapter is a rebirth, a chance to build a fresh sound from the ground up, one that reflects his evolving artistic vision.

He shares insights on what it takes to craft a unique sonic identity, the importance of surrounding yourself with the right team, and the courage to embrace uncertainty as fuel for growth. For Anish, evolution is not just an act, but a way of life. AB: How did you first get into dance music?

It actually started with a podcast—A State of Trance by Armin van Buuren. I was into rock and hip-hop before that, but something about electronic music just captivated me. I got hooked, started collecting tracks, and one thing led to another—I was DJing.

AB: Who are your biggest musical inspirations?

It’s hard to pin down one name because my inspirations evolve quickly—sometimes every few months. Right now, I’m into this Berlin-based collective called Keinemusik—artists like Rampa, &ME, and Adam Port. Also a producer named Moullinex, who’s doing great disco-inspired work.

If I had to name long-standing influences, I’d say Bicep, Disclosure, and Calvin Harris. And in the early days, definitely Swedish House Mafia—they really changed the game for house music.

AB: What does it take to be a musician?

I genuinely think music chooses you. Of course, figuring out how to build a career around it is a different game—but I know so many talented musicians who don’t do it professionally. Doesn’t make them any less of a musician. If art is the thing you love most, that’s enough.

AB: What advice would you give to someone starting out as a producer?

The cliché is true: develop your own sound. Pull inspiration from everywhere, but flip it. Add your own twist—whether it’s how you produce, how you present it, or even just the artwork. Today, you can’t just be a producer. You have to be your own label, your own creative director, your own marketing team. Build a story around yourself.

AB: What is your artistic process?

It really depends. If I'm in a session with another songwriter or musician, I try to feed off their energy. I don’t like to take over creatively in collaborations—I’d rather steer gently and see where it goes. If I’m working solo, especially on remixes, I usually start by imagining how people would respond to the track on a dance floor. Visualising that helps shape the production.

Inspiration’s unpredictable. Sometimes I’ll spend hours in the studio and come up with nothing. Then I’ll be out driving and get hit with an idea. That’s why I’m always using voice memos—it helps capture those fleeting moments.

Today, you can’t just be a producer. You have to be your own label, your own creative director, your own marketing team. Build a story around yourself.

AB: How did you land on your sound?

It’s been a journey. I started out with progressive and deep house, then moved into bigger, EDM-style sets because I was playing festivals. But after a while, I wasn’t enjoying it—I felt disconnected from the music. So I pivoted back, gradually, to something more authentic.

The last few releases have found a middle ground between pop accessibility and underground sensibilities. But I’m excited to go even more stripped-down and edgy going forward. I’ve started exploring Indian sounds, too—sampling folk or Bollywood elements—and even experimenting with African-inspired rhythms. It’s evolving, but I have a better sense now of what feels true to me.

AB: How do you balance audience appeal with staying authentic?

That balance is real. Anyone who says otherwise is probably not being fully honest. Some artists have the luck of their sound being naturally marketable—but for the rest of us, it’s a constant negotiation between what you love and what works.

You have to be strategic—whether it’s with collaborations, visuals, or marketing—but still rooted in your sound. The goal is to bring people into your world, not just chase trends.

Q: Let’s talk finances. What’s it like managing money as a producer—and when you're just starting out, how much capital do you really need to invest?

Honestly, not a lot. With the way technology has evolved, all you really need to make music today is a decent laptop and a pair of headphones. That’s enough to make a hit. Everything else—studio monitors, external gear, plugins—is secondary. It refines your process, sure, but it’s not essential in the beginning.

That said, the financial side of being a producer can be overwhelming. It’s not a high-paying career unless you’re doing serious numbers. Especially with streaming—unless you're in the millions, you're not really making much. And the reality is that most producers, in India and globally, don’t fully understand how publishing works. They end up leaving money on the table—money that’s rightfully theirs but ends up with societies or labels due to lack of awareness. So there’s a definite learning curve when it comes to managing finances. I’d say, don’t shy away from it—Google is free, and there’s a ton of great material online on how to manage your finances as a musician or producer. It’s worth reading up.

They end up leaving money on the table—money that’s rightfully theirs but ends up with societies or labels due to lack of awareness. So there’s a definite learning curve when it comes to managing finances.

Q: What do you think is missing from the Indian art or music space today?

The biggest gap right now is a lack of venues—especially multipurpose or alternative venues. It’s not even about the physical spaces; it’s the red tape that stops us from using them. Try licensing a warehouse or a parking lot for a gig and you’ll see what I mean. Abroad, you see raves in drive-in theatres, exhibitions in parking lots, and all sorts of creative formats. We have the space in India—we just don’t have the systems that allow people to use it.

We don’t need every event to be in the city centre either. People will drive out if the experience is worth it. But we need to make it easier for promoters and artists to actually build those experiences.

Q: A lot of promoters say that even if you could make those kinds of events happen, the economics of ticketing doesn’t support them. Indian audiences seem willing to buy tickets only when there’s a big name attached. What would it take to shift that culture—to get people to come for the experience rather than just the artist?

First off, we need to recognise that the Indian gig culture is still very young. It’s only in the last 10–12 years that we’ve really seen live music take off in a big way, and that’s largely thanks to a growing middle class with disposable income. Art is a luxury—it costs money to experience it. So what we’re seeing now is just the first wave of that audience being built.

To really get to the point where people show up regardless of who’s playing—like they do in Berlin or New York—you need depth. You need consistency. You need people to build those habits over time. Like, my dad’s German friend is in his 50s and still goes raving once a month—that’s just his form of entertainment because he’s been doing it for 30 years. That’s where culture comes from: long-term exposure and access. We’re still getting there.

Q: So how does an artist begin to build that kind of audience for themselves—especially if they’re just starting out and social media isn’t their thing?

It starts with understanding who your audience is. Who are you making music for? What do they do on weekends? Can they afford to attend a ₹1000-entry gig at a club? If not, you’re marketing to the wrong audience. Artists need to ask themselves these questions early.

And like it or not, social media is the biggest tool we have right now. That, and streaming. If your music lands on a strong playlist, it can get you in front of the right ears. But fundamentally, you have to market yourself—even if that’s uncomfortable. If you can’t, find someone—a friend, a sibling, anyone—to help you. But you can’t escape that part of the job.

Q: What’s your take on the artist management industry in India right now?

 The first thing to understand is that most agencies here operate as hybrid booking-management setups. But internationally, booking and management are completely separate. In India, most agencies are just focused on bookings. If you took away the booking aspect, very few are actually investing in the artist’s career, helping them make better content, build a brand, or explore long-term strategies.

This slowdown and post-pandemic reset have forced a lot of agencies to re-evaluate what they’re offering. And rightly so. Management isn’t just about getting gigs—it’s about helping your artist shape a vision, build a career, and connect with the right audience. That requires deeper involvement than just forwarding emails.

Q: When did you decide it was time to get a manager—and should artists manage themselves first?

I managed myself for the first five years. I was playing 60–70 gigs a year, doing all the logistics, sending out contracts—everything. At one point, I even made a fake email ID for a manager just to seem more legit, but that plan backfired when a club insisted on speaking to the manager. So, I had to drop the act.

But seriously, I don’t think young artists need a manager right away. That’s a big misconception. A manager can only work with the vision you bring to the table—and if you don’t believe in yourself or haven’t figured out what you want, there’s nothing for them to execute. Management should only come in when you’re too busy to do it all yourself—when the opportunities are there and you need help handling the volume.

Q: Fair—but what about artists who feel like they’re not business-savvy or don’t want to handle money negotiations themselves?

If you’re uncomfortable with that, find someone close to you—like a friend or sibling—who can help. The thing is, if you sign with a big agency early on, you’re not going to be a priority. The top acts bring in the money and attention. And when you’re a smaller artist on that roster, you can end up stuck—especially if your work doesn’t generate quick results. Eventually, they’ll say, “It’s been a year, where’s the traction?” And you’re left in limbo.

Instead, start local. Build your network. Go out. Be part of the community. I started by being that guy on the dancefloor, front and centre, watching DJs play. That’s how you get to know the scene—and how people get to know you. If you play an opening slot and there are only three people in the room, but two of them are your friends and one’s a promoter—that’s how things grow. You have to build from the ground up.

A manager can only work with the vision you bring to the table—and if you don’t believe in yourself or haven’t figured out what you want, there’s nothing for them to execute

Q: Final question—any hacks you’ve picked up over the years as a touring artist?

Oh yeah—if you’re trying to travel with just a carry-on and it’s over the weight limit, print your boarding pass at home and go straight to the gate. They don’t have weighing machines there, and you avoid the whole check-in drama. Also, never check in bags unless you absolutely have to. Saves time, avoids queues, and you don’t have to wait at baggage claim. When you're doing 100+ flights a year, every minute counts.