Every song I’ve ever written started the same way: not with a genre, not with a trend, but with a feeling.

I make a lot of instrumental music. No words to hide behind. So the titles become crucial. They are not random. They are almost embarrassingly honest – little doors that tell the listener exactly what emotional weather I was living in when I pressed record.

Sometimes the title is in English. Sometimes French. Sometimes Italian. All mixed together, because that’s how my life is. And honestly? That’s how everyone’s life is now.

The Emotional Jumble of Being Alive

People imagine inspiration as a lightning bolt from some sacred mountain. But for me, it’s much messier. On any given Tuesday, I can be:

• Bothered by a job interview that went nowhere
• Broken by a love story that ended without a goodbye
• Hyped by a stupidly happy afternoon with my sister
• Cherished by a small gift from the person I love

All of these belong in music. Not just the dramatic ones. Not just the sad ones. The boring, the anxious, the radiant – everything.

That’s why my tracks can shift from a trembling ambient piece to a four-on-the-floor electronic banger. Because life shifts like that. And music that pretends otherwise is lying.

My Discography as a Diary (In Order)

If you listen to my albums in chronological order, you don’t just hear musical evolution. You hear a life.

1. Collateral Thinking (first instrumental album)
This one is raw. It has references to precarity, to job interviews that felt like interrogations, to small homages for people who helped me survive. And underneath it all, a growing, uncomfortable comprehension of the capitalist system – how it shapes our anxieties, our time, our worth. You can hear me figuring it out in real time.

2. Improvisation Temptation EP (more danceable)
A period of DJing in Bologna with Andrea Far and the duo Stepstoofar. Nights of vinyl, smoke, and basslines that didn’t ask permission. This music is less worried. It’s sweaty. It’s friendly. It was a necessary exhale.

3. A sweeter, more pop-oriented album : A FINE DAY TO BE BORN ON
More lyrics. More vulnerability in a classic sense. Love songs, but not simple ones. This was the heart taking a breath after the club.

4. 100% lounge, chill-out release : FLOWS
A full immersion into soft textures. No fighting. Just floating. Flows is the word I’d use. This was the musical equivalent of lying on the floor watching clouds.

5. From then to now
The following albums stopped choosing. One track might be a tender whisper. The next, a wall of distorted guitars and pounding kicks. Because that’s real. You don’t have to pick a lane. You can be soft at breakfast and furious at lunch.

The Mirror of Society and Ourselves

In every one of those albums, there’s a reflection of something larger than me. A mirror of our society and, at the same time, a mirror of myself. They are full of contradictions:

• Noise and melody fighting for space
• Joy and struggle holding hands
• Love and hate sometimes wearing the same face

That’s the melting pot. That’s the world we live in. My music doesn’t resolve these opposites. It just documents them, honestly.

The Cover That Says It All: 9 Heart Bit

If you want a single image that captures everything I just wrote, look at the cover of 9 Heart Bit.

It shows a cold, modern, chip-shaped structure – like a circuit, a piece of technology, something efficient and impersonal. But built into that coldness is a beating, firing heart.

That’s it. That’s the whole thesis.

We live in an age of precarity, algorithms, job interviews that ghost you, love that arrives via swipe. But inside all that coldness, the heart keeps beating. Sometimes it hurts. Sometimes it soars. And it never stops.