It was in the autumn of 2009. Submerged in the world’s greatest grief for several weeks now, 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 started with a beautiful love story between me and music, unfortunately, it was an impossible love then: everything was put between us and made every moment spent together absolutely ineffective. However, if this experience was heartbreaking, it was constructive; music is like therapy: you must be just the two of you for it to work. Something that was only possible well long after.
At that time I listened to music but mostly, I listened to people a lot. Those who talked to each other, those who talked to me. They were my music for years. I did make music, but like many things I simply didn’t talk about it. It was a bit of a coincidence when years after I showed a friend one of my melodies. He encouraged me to share it online. What I was doing then was very different from the varied catalogue I have today, and the feedback was different too. When you get used to the silence, the feedbacks make waves on fragile dikes.
I was not ready.
And then I composed “The Princess of Tears”. For a bit of context, the music that I used to compose was never meant to be recorded. It was the first not to tell my story but the story of someone else, whose grief I found much heavier to bear than mine. Subjectively, everything seems more painful when you empathize. As I couldn’t do or say anything, I needed music that could say “I understand” and not “listen to me”. Sharing and displaying are two opposites that I thank myself to never confuse.
So, 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?
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