Stories

The story of Lullaby began with a distorted melody found while experimenting in the studio. That same evening, during a walk, the tune took on a haunting, darker life, eventually surfacing as the line: "Angels left the earth today."

What emerged was a song for the nights when sleep feels dangerous. I pictured an apocalyptic landscape where a mother tries to comfort her child, even as the world around them is doomed. It is a reflection on a world heading towards oblivion, capturing the fragile tension between the need for stillness and the inevitability of collapse.

Musically, the track is built on a repetitive, monotonous structure—much like a traditional lullaby—blending acoustic foundations with synthetic voices to create an "avant-folk" or coldwave atmosphere. It is designed to be a whispered comfort, a minimal and haunting soundscape for those who find beauty in heavy, end-of-the-world calm.

The message is one of resigned softness. It is the quiet before everything falls silent, a song that embraces the dark and offers a slow descent into the shadows. I think, in the end, the world does finish - but it happens peacefully, while the child is fast asleep.

"We Need to Talk" was written as a direct creative reaction to the assassination of political figure Charlie Kirk in 2025. While I didn't follow his politics, one core message of his deeply resonated with me: the absolute necessity of civilised dialogue. When people stop talking, violence fills the void.

The Tragic Irony

There is a stark paradox at the centre of this track. Kirk was a staunch defender of the right to bear arms, yet he was killed by gun violence. Tragically, his death proved his own thesis—that those who refuse to engage in debate will resort to bloodshed to silence ideas.

However, the violence backfired. Instead of silencing his message, the tragedy amplified his movement, triggering a massive cultural spotlight. This inspired the lines:

"I'm not quiet / Words still ring / ...made my name a bigger cause"

Radical Forgiveness

When writing the lyrics, I asked a fundamental question: What would he do next?

Given his Christian faith, I knew the song shouldn't be driven by anger or vengeance. Instead, the track explores radical forgiveness. It steps into the victim's mindset, answering an assassin’s bullet not with malice, but with a persistent, transcendent invitation to put down the weapons and finish the conversation.

The Bottom Line

This is a non-partisan anthem. It doesn't pick a political side; it critiques the systemic breakdown of human communication. A bullet can stop a heart, but it cannot stop an idea.

The wake-up call is still ringing.

Phalanx began as a rhythmic commission for a taekwondo routine. What started with simple drums soon evolved into a complex instrumental piece that I felt compelled to keep for my own collection.

The track is visualised as an army of ants marching toward a fierce battle. This imagery was inspired by Bernard Werber’s novel Ants, which explores the incredible world of tiny creatures and how they achieve greatness through unity. The composition follows this narrative of conflict, featuring a deceptive moment of calm before a second wave of intensity strikes. It is a tribute to the strength of the collective and the idea that even the smallest soldiers can win the most monumental battles.