Every artist is made of other artists. This is not a problem to be solved — it is just how creative work develops. You absorb what you love, you process it, and something comes out the other side that is yours. The question is not whether you have influences. The question is what you do with them.
There is a version of influence that produces imitation: work that sounds like its references, that wears them on the surface, that invites you to identify the sources rather than experience the result. This is not always bad — homage has its place, and some genres are built on explicit citation. But it is a limited mode. It produces work that is always in relation to something else, never fully itself.
The more interesting version is influence that disappears into the work. Where the references are present but not legible — where you can feel the weight of what came before without being able to name it. This requires a longer process of digestion. You have to spend enough time with your influences that they stop being influences and start being part of how you think.
The electronic and ambient traditions that inform Sndigø's sound — the minimalist composers, the early synthesizer experimenters, the producers who treated the studio as an instrument — are present in Tyranny & Capitalism without being quoted. The record does not sound like any of them in particular. It sounds like what happens when you have listened to all of them for long enough that they become part of your ear rather than your reference list.
That is the goal: not to make something that sounds like your influences, but to make something that could only have been made by someone who had them.