swchps Music

Music may be our first language. Just a few squeaks and broken noises, little more than cries and laughter, are enough to convey a whole lot of yourself.

I remember my first performance as a child, at the music school’s Christmas concert. What I remember most about the experience is a sort of trance-like state I touched for the first time, where I was half aware of the audience, half aware of myself, with the music coursing through my whole body and across the choir — the sound was empowering and overpowering. Since then, music has been a part of my journey and the stage a part of my identity. Whenever I’m onstage, that’s when I’m myself, more than at any other time.

And then there’s the recording studio. Every time, going into the studio is like the first time. It’s a joyful playground and the most serious matter, where every beat counts, but time vanishes. There, bare and childlike, you breathe in, harnessing your whole being, and breathe out, hoping and striving to give life to an honest, truthful, soul-like vowel, syllable, word — and perhaps, one day, a song.

After over a decade starving myself of doing music, now in 2023, with Moonphonic, I’ve begun making a musical retrospective of my life, recreating some songs originally written over the past 3 decades, and sharing a new experience: that of being a life warrior, a survivor from a chronic illness. My music suddenly feels energized by the urgency of time, the need to not let a day fade into oblivion, the drive to complete long-forgotten projects, and the necessity to celebrate the brief and wonderful moments and human connections that make life worth fighting for.