Music 🎹 has been entangled with my existence for as long as I can recall, though to say it has always been a harmonious relationship would be a lie. My earliest memory of it, a pivotal one, emerges from the fog of youth. A birthday, its precise date lost to me now, when my aunt gifted me an album – Dune: Expedicion. This gift, innocuous in appearance, became a harbinger of something larger. It seeded a journey whose direction I could not foresee, though it loomed over me ever since.
Fast forward a couple years within the 90s, I got hold of Magix Music Maker. It offered me an illusion of creation, a semblance of power through its prearranged loops and patterns. For a time, I was entranced, shaping fragments into something that felt like my own. Yet the act of gluing these loops together became tedious, the satisfaction fleeting. I abandoned it, and with it, a piece of myself.
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