For this new episode of Tales, we met Theodora Delilez. A bassist, singer, songwriter, and producer, she brings the same high standards to every project: staying true to what genuinely resonates. From her earliest musical memories to the creation of Astral Bakers, through independence, performing, production, and supporting other artists, Theodora shares a journey shaped by slow-building growth, deliberate choices, and a focus on what matters most.
A rich, sensitive conversation about '80s synths, bass, human constellations, inner voices—and this very personal way of inhabiting music without trying to control it.
The band Astral Bakers
The Tales Interview
Do you remember your first powerful memory connected to music?
Not one specific moment, but an atmosphere. When I was a child, my parents often took us to the mountains by car. There was the smell inside the car, the winding roads, the blankets they gave us in the back seat... And above all, the music. We listened to Leonard Cohen, Bryan Ferry, The Doors. That memory of lying down with really great music in my ears was foundational.
Did you come from a family of musicians?
Not really. My parents are music lovers, especially when it comes to rock from the '60s, '70s, and a little bit of the '80s. But there was no professional musician role model. The only one was my older brother, who played guitar in his bedroom. Seeing him made me want to try, but in a different way. I chose bass. And that showed me that you could learn differently, without going through the conservatory.
What was your first musical experience?
I took bass lessons with friends of my brother's. Then, in middle school, when I was in eighth grade, I joined a band whose members were in ninth grade. Pink Floyd was the turning point. When I told them I liked them, they became interested in me. I lied and said I'd been playing bass for a year, when it had only been three months. We rehearsed together, and they taught me note by note. Then they asked me to play the Fête de la Musique with them. That hard rock band lasted eight years.
And when did you build your own personal musical world?
It happened gradually. What I really liked wasn't the big riffs, but the synth pads, the textures. I was drawn to the blend of guitars and synths. And on the radio, I heard more emotional songs, '80s slow jams like Everybody’s Got to Learn Sometimes. That cheesy, sentimental side really spoke to me. That's what shaped my taste, what I eventually developed later in my own sound.
Are there songs that instantly take you back to that time?
Yes, lots of them. As Siri Hustvedt wrote in Souvenirs de l’avenir, there are songs that take you back to the time when you felt your whole life was ahead of you. For me, it's Lady in Red by Chris de Burgh, I’m on Fire by Springsteen, or Dire Straits. When I listen to them, I remember what it was like to be 15, that urge to break away, to experience something bigger.
Can you tell us about the major stages of your journey?
There was that first teenage band called Metal Finger, then The Spine. Then, around 19 or 20, I met two girls and we formed Théodore, Paul et Gabriel, a folk-rock band that lasted 5-6 years. It was with that project that I started becoming professional: an album, a tour, press.
But at that point, I still wasn't allowing myself to move beyond bass. I was a little inhibited. It was during that tour that I began to explore on my own, listening to things that spoke to me more personally.
Is that when you launched your solo project?
Yes. I told myself that if I wanted to be independent, I had to learn how to manage on my own. I invested in a microphone, a keyboard, and software. Someone lent me a Yamaha PSR-36, and I started dreaming through its sounds. Little by little, I found my own world. I released a first EP, then Obsession in 2017. Then an album, followed by another EP recently.
And alongside that, you continue to play with lots of artists?
Yes. I've played with Sage, Fishbach, Juniore, Laura Cahen, Ricky Hollywood, Barbagallo... And for the past three years, I've been part of a band that means a great deal to me: Astral Bakers, with Sage, Zoé Hochberg, and Nicolas Lockhart. We wanted to create something very human, without computers or artifice. Just music played together, with an energy of trust and no pressure. We released an album after two years of working behind the scenes. And we even toured, playing the Zéniths with Clara Luciani, including Bercy. It was impressive.
Do you remember a particularly memorable live experience?
Yes, two. The first was with Barbagallo in 2017, in South America. We played a small festival in Belém, in northern Brazil. I was jet-lagged, completely out of it, and yet we had to go on. The audience response was incredible. It was humid, intense, unexpected. I thought, “How did I end up here?”
Then more recently, with Astral Bakers, we played Bercy. Playing in front of a sea of people as an opening act is a challenge. You have 30 minutes to win them over. And we did it.
How do you deal with periods of doubt or writer's block?
They're part of the journey. In 2019-2020, I went through a real period of questioning, and it wasn't even because of COVID. Lockdown actually allowed me to refocus on myself as a human being. Not just as an artist. Sometimes, you lose yourself in the idea of producing, of being visible. That's when I understood that life wasn't just about playing shows or writing good songs.
And what about social media and self-branding? Does that speak to you?
I deal with it, but I wasn't born into it. Younger people have a kind of natural instinct for it that I don't have.. So I take a step back. It's frustrating sometimes: you make a good song, a good music video, and sometimes nothing happens. But I try to tell myself that it's already an incredible privilege to be able to devote my days to these projects.
What does being a good instrumentalist mean to you?
It's knowing what you can bring to an artist you're supporting. Being in service of a project that isn't yours, without erasing yourself but by finding your rightful place. Observing, understanding, supporting. And I like that. I don't necessarily need to be at the center all the time.
And was bass a choice or a coincidence?
It was clearly a coincidence. I realized I had a natural aptitude for it, even though I was a little lazy at first. I have big hands, a good ear... It could have been another instrument, but it ended up being bass.
I don't believe in predestination at all. What became central in my life was initially meant to remain a side thing. And through a series of small events, strokes of fate, encounters... it became the main thing. But it wasn't “meant to be.”
Do you think things have changed in the industry?
Yes. I see more women, queer people, and people of color speaking out and asserting their voice. Artists like Yoa and Iliona address themes we didn't see before. There has been a real shift. But at the same time, inequalities are widening. Indie artists are struggling more and more to make a living, to get enough work hours. The algorithm is unavoidable.. there are wonderful voices that still aren't being heard.
And what about pursuing a personal project today?
For me, pursuing a personal project today is first and foremost about trying to bring a personal voice into a world that has become fairly impersonal. I truly believe there is still room for originality. What interests me is nurturing your inner voice as much as possible, trying to tell the story of what you have to say about your own little life, and managing to connect it with as many people as possible... without necessarily becoming mainstream. There’s a subtle balance to be found.
What I truly believe in is the constellation. A circle of allies. A network of indies, friends, musicians, technicians, people who help one another—through their flaws as well as their strengths. Who nourish one another without looking out solely for themselves. I know that goes against the image of the solo artist who wants to embody everything, carry everything... I think that figure makes less and less sense today.
A cult album on which you would have loved to see: “bass: Theodora”?
With Cat Stevens.
And if you could record your next album anywhere in the world?
A Greek island. Maybe Spetses. I have roots there, and that’s where I feel best.
