It was in the autumn of 2009. Submerged in sadness for several weeks as teenagers do, I decided it was time to ease my pain with the world’s best-known remedy: music. I mentioned in another article that at that time music softwares were becoming popular notably through the emergence and dissemination of internet artists. Surprisingly, my initial experience was also decisive in what was to become my musical career.
I hated it.
It could have all started with a beautiful story between me and music, unfortunately, it was like an impossible love then: every moment I spent making music was absolutely unproductive. However, if this experience was heartbreaking, it was constructive; music is like therapy: you must be alone in a quiet place for it to work. That became possible way, way long after.
At that time I listened to music but for the most part, I listened to people. Those who talked to me, those who talked to each other. They were my music for years. I did make music, but like many things, I simply didn’t feel the need to talk about it. And when you get used to the silence, feedbacks make waves on fragile dikes.
In other words: I was not ready.
And then I composed “La Princesse De Larmes” (“Princess of Tears”). It was a piece of music inspired by someone else whose grief was, in my eyes, much heavier to bear than mine. Subjectively, feelings hit differently when you empathize. I needed music that could convey “I understand” and not “listen to this”. Sharing and displaying are two opposites sometimes hard to distinguish.
I started to Include people in my silence.
But the silence is sometimes noisy. Music only meant for public display is a form of silence. Music that serves to convey something deep without saying anything is another part of the silence. The rest is noise. Today I am delighted to share all kinds of silence and noise with you, who are listening to my music. It is sometimes silent noise, noisy silence, a bit of everything at the same time … And including you in the equation has strengthened my dykes as well as my sense of listening.
And who knows, maybe yours too?