“I do a lot at the same time.” This is a massive understatement coming from Devonté Hynes. The twenty-three year old, probably best known as the musical artist Lightspeed Champion, also vents his talents by writing short stories, comics, and other musical side projects, the latest of which is called Blood Orange.

Indeed, superficially Dev does do a lot in managing to juggle these creative projects simultaneously, but he also multitasks on a whole other level. He is a synesthete. He sees sounds. Having never talked about his experience before for fear of sounding mental or pretentious, I convinced him to try and describe how synesthesia affects his daily life and how, if at all, it influences his creative process.

He recounts his earliest memory of synesthesia: watching The Rocky Horror Picture Show as a small child. “It blew my mind” even though at the time he had no idea what it was about. “It was a brutal assault—but a good one.” He also remembers phrases of the song “Walking on Broken Glass” as being imprinted on his mind as the “most beautiful thing.” Hynes describes his experiences as “seeing layers” like staring at “moving pictures” with rhythm, pitch, instrument, the spoken voice and volume all having their separate color qualities.

He recently relived that initial experience by watching The Rocky Horror Picture Show again. Exactly the same thing happened. So, is this sensory cross-wiring repeatable? Indeed, the same songs evoke the same colors and same images over and over again. Dev claims however that he never gets tired of songs. Depending on the song or even the phrase within a song, the images he sees can evoke feelings ranging from euphoria to discomfort. “I learned to stop talking about it because people think I’m being ironic but I’m not! For instance, the new Mariah Carey song: I like it! I’m going to listen to it—a lot!”

Dev, like other synesthetes, has a phenomenal memory. Having very little formal training in music, he is able to teach himself any instrument. He learns by “trying to get to the color. I can play anything because I see it, because I just recreate it. I don’t have to think. I’m just reading it.”

Music is such a part of him that he doesn’t even view it as a profession or something worth mentioning. “I used to paint but could never really physically get what I wanted. I can only do it through music. It’s so overly natural I almost blank it out. It’s not a chore and I find it weird that people are interested. It’s like breathing.” He writes music visually “doing whatever he can to get the picture” seeing it as layers; “it’s almost like painting, mixing colors.”

Composing comes so naturally to him that he has begun to impose restrictions and mini-challenges on himself while writing to keep himself interested. For instance, the album he’s currently working on, he’s trying to incorporate eastern melodies. Usually he likes to layer but this time he’s stopping himself by “sprinkling eastern melodies over a base color with a solid color for the vocal: one straight journey with no turns.” When talking to his label he describes his albums through color but worries that he sounds pretentious.

He writes and records every day and even on his last day off he thought it would be fun to record an Ike and Tina Turner album. Hynes is often too distracted to eat and the intensity of his dreams means that sleep is limited. “My girlfriend worries that I do too much. I fill myself up with tasks and projects and there are so many—I get them done but it’s never enough.” It’s not only music, but words and even taste that cross the sensory boundaries, “especially when I write myself.” He usually has about ten books on the go, dipping in and out of them with ease depending on “what mood I want washed over me.”

So would he like to compose soundtracks? “I write essentially in the form of soundtracks. I write in track listings, which is quite unusual. Every album I write has themes that come back. I have such a clear idea of how I want each piece to be. Each piece just works when it’s there as a whole. When certain things can’t happen it changes the whole pattern. Because I write in track listings, it makes things difficult for everyone else—and me.

So I guess collaborations are impossible? Apparently not. Dev actually likes collaborating because he doesn’t know what the end product will be. Three songs on the new album were intended to be collaborations. Dev would compose the skeleton and then this gets “decorated” by another composer. Unfortunately, this finished product did not go down well and Dev was forced to complete the piece himself. Something he’s not used to and that he found difficult.

I can’t begin to empathize with the sensory bombardment he must have to deal with on a daily basis. “I notice every bit of music in the day. I notice it all. I have to be really selective about what live performances I see. But apparently seeing a live orchestra is always a joy. “It’s like someone writing so many different patterns to create one huge pattern that moves in a pack. It’s phenomenal. I’m in awe.” While talking, Dev frequently uses the phrase “it blows my mind” and I wonder if he realizes how apt this description actually is.