Every musician is shaped by influences.

Some teach you how to play. Some teach you how to compose. Some teach you how to perform.

And then there are the rare few who change the way you experience music itself.

For me, Tony Banks belongs firmly in that category.

As the principal composer and keyboard player of Genesis, he helped create some of the most atmospheric music I have ever heard.

Not because it was technically dazzling. Not because it was loud. Not because it demanded attention.

But because it transported me somewhere.

Music That Creates A World

When I first discovered albums such as Foxtrot, Selling England by the Pound, The Lamb lies down on Broadwy, A Trick of the Tail and Wind & Wuthering, I immediately noticed something unusual.

The keyboards did not merely support the songs.

They shaped the environment in which the songs existed.

Listening to those records felt less like hearing music and more like stepping into another reality.

A landscape emerged. A mood appeared. An atmosphere surrounded everything.

Even today, very few artists manage to achieve that effect consistently.

The Spaces Between The Notes

One of the most valuable lessons I learned from Tony Banks was that atmosphere is often created by what is not being played.

Modern music sometimes feels overcrowded. Every available space must be filled. Every moment must be occupied.

Genesis often did the opposite.

Notes were allowed to breathe. Chords were allowed to linger. Textures were given room to unfold naturally.

The result was music that felt alive.

Music that invited the listener inside.

Emotion Before Technique

As a young musician it is easy to become impressed by technical ability.

Fast solos. Complex runs. Endless demonstrations of virtuosity.

Yet the moments that stay with us rarely depend on speed.

They depend on emotion.

Tony Banks taught me that a single chord progression can be more powerful than a hundred technical exercises.

A carefully chosen harmonic movement can completely alter the emotional colour of a piece.

That lesson has remained with me throughout my entire musical journey.

Atmosphere Became Part Of My Own Music

Looking back, I can clearly hear traces of that influence throughout Futureworld Orchestra.

Not because I consciously tried to copy Genesis.

Quite the opposite.

The strongest influences are rarely imitations.

They become principles that quietly shape your creative decisions for decades.

In my own work, atmosphere has always been one of those principles.

Whether creating a synthesizer composition, an orchestral arrangement or one of the new projects currently taking shape, I continually return to the same question:

How does this make the listener feel?

Not what does it sound like.

How does it feel?

The Lasting Lesson

Decades have passed since I first heard those Genesis records.

Music technology has changed beyond recognition.

Studios have evolved. Instruments have evolved. Production techniques have evolved.

Yet the lesson remains exactly the same.

Atmosphere matters.

Emotion matters.

Imagination matters.

Because when music creates a genuine sense of place, listeners do not simply hear it.

They remember it.