Article
Interview with Australis - November 2007
Essential Noises
Essential Noises (EN): Why music and not painting or dancing, or acting or photography?
Australis (A): [A short pause] To answer that question I would compare art forms to languages. We all feel more comfortable with some languages than with other ones. A person can be multilingual and be able to speak in more than just their native tongue; but inevitably, we all feel more comfortable - more able to express our mind and heart - when speaking our native language.
I believe the same is true for artists: each one is more comfortable with certain art form than others. Each artist is able to express his or her emotions through certain art better than through others. In that sense, it is like artists have their "native art forms".
What makes a particular art form "native" to an artist? Maybe it depends on what art forms were present during your years of formation, or maybe it is something you bring with you from before birth. In any case, music has always been my native tongue. I don't remember a time when I had to decide between music and other arts, so I believe it has always been native to me.
EN: Now that you mention the possibility of life before life, what are your personal beliefs?
A: In a specific context - like ethics or spirituality - or in general?
EN: In any way you want to answer.
A: Hmmm, a question like that can trigger all sorts of answers.
[A pause of a few seconds] I believe nothing is isolated, regardless of the context. I believe everything is connected, physically, chronologically, conceptually, spiritually.
For example, now that our planet faces the undeniable challenge of global warming and ecological imbalance, our civilization is finally beginning to realize that all the elements on - and in - our planet are related, and that in nature everything depends on everything else.
Well, I believe that interdepence extends to all other contexts, not just the physical; to all other times, not just the present; and to all things, not just nature.
EN: Do these beliefs influence your music?
A: Absolutely. Each person's beliefs influence that person's thoughts, words and acts. It is the same for a composer. [A short pause] Well, at least for composers who create music spontaneously versus composers who compose only as a paid service to others.
In that sense, one of the challenges for a composer is to be creative and original even when his/her beliefs remain the same. Otherwise the artist runs the risk of falling into a trench and end up creating music that sounds like more of the same; which in the end decreases its effect on the listener.
So you have to allow your beliefs to influence you in more than one way; you have to be open to even the uncomfortable sides of your beliefs. To remain creative, you have to learn to also use your personal doubts and conflicts as creativity triggers.
EN: Speaking about the influence of your beliefs upon your music, and in relation to the specific idea that everything is interdependent as you mentioned, would you identify one of your musical pieces that is a direct result of that belief?
A: Yes. Let's take "Turning Point" from Lifegiving for example. That track presents that concept from a somewhat dark standpoint: the negative consequences from the terrible mistake of war.
"The Sound of Hope" is another piece founded in that belief, but presenting it from a completely different point of view. And the same could be said about each one of my works.
But let's leave it there. I am reluctant of explaining the meaning of my musical pieces.
EN: Why?
A: [A short pause] Because I don't want to influence or condition the listeners' perceptions.
Explaining my music would take away from the listeners the opportunity to experience it in their own unique ways. The idea is that each listener builds their own emotional associations in complete freedom and with as little interference as possible. That is the magic of music: it doesn't need to be explained to the mind for it to be able to touch the heart; it doesn't need to be understood to be experienced.
If I explain my music, I would be ruining that volatile first impression for everybody.
On the other hand, I think listeners wouldn't want to hear "explained" music. Don't you think?
EN: But then, now that you are working on a brand new work, the public obviously wants to know about it. Are you saying that you won't introduce your new project to us?
A: [Laughs openly] Of course I'll tell you about it. There is an important difference between introducing a musical project to the public and explaining the meaning of a musical piece. Presenting a musical work is like saying "This is what has kept me busy for this long, I offer it to you. Interpret it in your own ways"; while explaining the meaning of a musical piece is like saying "When you hear this part you have to envision this and that, and when you hear the next part you have to think of this other idea". See the difference? Explaining music is, in my perception, an insult to the listener's sensibility.
EN: I see your point. Tell us about your new project then.
A: The new project - titled "The Gates of Reality" - started just a few months after the release of my debut album, Lifegiving. [A short pause] That first release made me particularly aware of the interaction between reality and fantasy within the human mind. Those concepts are the ones inspiring the new material.
EN: Would you explain those concepts?
A: Well, we are all familiar with reality and fantasy because we deal with reality on a daily basis as we go about our lives, and we also deal with fantasy on a daily basis as we imagine and dream every day of our lives from the moment we are born.
However, although the concept of reality is clearly defined in any dictionary, could you say that you experience reality in exactly the same way as another person? Let's illustrate this question with an example. Let's say we place an astronaut and a acrophobic in a roller coaster, for example.
The activity is exactly the same for both of them: seated in a cart with identical safety bars over their shoulders and chests, each one is subject to the same speeds, the same gravitational forces, the same heights, the same wind, etc. Can we say that that reality is the same for both of them however?
Obviously not. For the astronaut that reality is exciting and invigorating. For the acrophobic on the other hand, the same reality is horrific and completely traumatic.
So where is the difference? In our example, both individuals are healthy, can see and hear perfectly and the rest of their senses work the same. How can the same reality be so completely different for each one?
That leads us to consider that reality is the result of our perceptual capabilities. In other words, reality is what we obtain after we process the information we receive through our senses. And that's the key: our perceptions.
Since our perceptions are made of past experiences, of memories, of our interpretation of other people's experiences, and of course, of our own imagination; each person's perceptions are absolutely unique; which in turn means that reality is absolutely unique for every person.
These considerations are the ones moving my new project.
EN: Sounds like a very deep concept for musical exploration. Do you have any date set for its release?
A: Unfortunately not. It is a bigger undertaking and even though the project is almost half way complete already, I can't venture a date yet.
EN: Why do you consider this new project to be a bigger undertaking?
A: Well, the comparison is with my debut release of course. Lifegiving was finished just eight months after establishing [Australis] as an official artistic identity. The reason is that a few of its tracks were already composed and semi-complete before that, and other ones were already rough drafts by that time.
In that sense, Lifegiving was a very spontaneous project. All the pieces were there, the timing was natural; the project almost assembled itself. The Gates of Reality on the other hand, is more intentional, more deliberate. It is being built from zero and also it explores a conscious concept . And that concept, as you mentioned, is a deep one.
All that translates into more tracks and more complex tracks than in my first release, which obviously means more work.
EN: Lifegiving was a hit in several markets and has been re-released in Asia. Some of its tracks were included in several compilations from Europe and the US. What do you expect to accomplish with The Gates of Reality?
A: To be honest, I don't expect to "accomplish" something with it, the same way I didn't expect to accomplish anything with Lifegiving. Don't get me wrong!, it is wonderful when your work is well received and it is sought after around the world. It is a humbling blessing and a very intimate confirmation that your art is perceived as uplifting and beautiful. It is in fact the strongest motivation I can conceive to keep me on that path.
But the accomplishment, in my opinion, is the music itself. It is composed with a clean heart, with strong passion and with an honest desire to inspire and move in as many ways as possible. Once that music is produced and released, I consider I have accomplished my purpose. Whatever happens after that, is only the aftermath.
EN: Are you saying that you are not interested in any profit your music can generate?
A: No, what I am saying is that profit is not the reason I create music.
EN: But your music is only available for purchase; in other words, your listeners have to buy it to have it. If profit is not within your intentions, why not release it for free on your website or on one of the many free music web sites on the internet?
A: Because of the unfortunate way our society has organized the music industry.
EN: Would you please explain that?
A: Yes. [A pause] Let me ask you - and your readers - this question: where does the respect you have towards the artists you like come from?
Think about it. Apart from their musical appeal, what have the artists you admire done to earn your respect?
Let's see. Did you find them or did they find you instead? Did you have to search for months through thousands of mediocre artists until you found the ones you like hiding in a dark corner somewhere in the immensity of cyberspace? Or did they find you instead, thanks to efforts to make their music as public as possible - think radio stations, retails stores, etc. - and present them as serious and professional as possible?
Do you see the mechanics involved? Your interest and respect towards your favorite artists comes after those artists have made every possible effort to reach you: one day your favorite radio station started playing an artist you had not heard before, later you found that artist's music available on retailers, and soon enough you started bumping into references to that artist on the internet. Eventually, it became obvious to you that you were in front of a well established artist capable of leaving his/her mark on the musical landscape.
So, an artist can't earn the respect of listeners, media and industry unless he or she enters the commercial arena. It is very unfortunate, if you want my opinion; but it is the way our society distinguishes between real artists and aspirants.
EN: So, you are saying that, in order to earn artistic respect, you are forced to put your music for sale?
A: You are forced to enter the commercial territories, yes. What you do once there, is up to you.
But basically it follows a very simple psychological mechanism: if something is offered for free, you immediately suspect that there must be some sort of problem with it, or that there is a catch somewhere, or that its quality is simply mediocre; but if next to it there's a similar product for sale, you automatically assume that its quality is better. The same is true between two products for sale where one is more expensive than the other: you automatically perceive the more expensive one as better. The fact that you have to invest money - or work, or time - in something, automatically increases your perception of its value.
It is the same in music, and in any area of human activity. If your music is for sale, it is automatically perceived as better than free music offered everywhere on the internet.
Contradictory, isn't it?
However, with a little ingenuity an artist can go into the commercial world and still find ways to remain free from this contradictory mechanism.
EN: For example?
A: For example, an artist can still make his music available for free on his/her website despite the fact that his/her music is for sale on retailers...
EN: But wouldn't that go against the whole point of earning artistic respect? If on one hand an artist is selling his music, but on the other he is giving it away, isn't he shooting himself on the foot?
A: That's where ingenuity comes into place. There are ways to combine the two sides, complying with the industry and still being open to the public without appearing contradictory. For example, the artist can release one full-length track a month. Or he/she could release special versions of his/her tracks not available on retailers. Podcasts, online radio stations, etc... there are several ways to remain free from the restrictions imposed by the music industry and promoting musical freedom.
EN: But no record label would like that. If the record label has invested resources to put the artist's music on radio and on retailers, and then the artist starts to give his music away, the record label will most likely finish their contract with the artist!
A: Absolutely. That's why signing with a record label is usually not the best option if the artist wants to retain his/her freedom to be flexible and creative without breaking any agreements.
EN: So you remain independent to preserve your freedom. Now, how does that combine with the idea of entering the commercial side of music? Don't you need a record label to do that?
A: I looked for the answer to that same question for almost a decade. [A short pause] It took me that decade to put the answer together.
Initially, I was absolutely sure the only way to become a commercial artist was through a record label. Now I know better.
Traditional record labels are businesses organized such that they can profit from their artists' talent. They are not interested in their artists' spiritual intentions or ethic principles; all they are interested in is to make a profit, as it is for any normal business. They hire experts in all the areas involved in promoting an artist and their salaries come from the profit generated by that artist. It is like a lawyer firm, or an architect studio: a group of experts performing services for a select number of clients and being compensated for that when the profit appears.
For the independent artist however, the problem resides in that "selected number of clients". As you can imagine, every week record labels receive hundreds of demo recordings from aspirants that hope to impress the label to the point where it offers them a contract. So the real chances of being signed to a label are very slim because it is a big risk for a label to take a new artist. What if the label later finds out that the artist is not what they expected?, what if that artist's inspiration evaporates after the first release?, how would the label recover from all the money spent in promoting that artist?
Well, it took me years to learn that in this day and age, you can self-publish your music, commercially.
It is costly, you have to comply with many requirements, and it consumes obsene amounts of time; but it is doable.
That's when I officially created my project [Australis].
EN: But then, by doing that, the risk moves from the label to the artists themselves. What happens if you spend all that money out-of-pocket and dedicate all that time and effort, only to discover that your music is not liked by the public? The record label actually acts as a filter that only promotes market-worthy acts. If you take the record label out of the equation, how does the artist know if he is market-worthy?
A: That's one important question.
[A pause] The answer is: he doesn't know until he tries. It is a risk, no doubt about it. It is the same risk that the labels are under, as you pointed out. However, the artist doesn't have many options. In fact, there's only two options.
The first one is to send demos to record labels in hopes that eventually your demo will land at the top of the pile and will be heard by an executive that didn't fight with everybody that morning, and that he feels generous that particular day, and that the label is going through one of those rare moments when they are actually looking for new artists. This option is literally like playing the lottery.
The second option is to determine if you believe enough in yourself as to take the risk of failure in your own hands, and go ahead and publish your own music yourself.
EN: Was it hard to take that decision?
A: Yes, but not because of the risk of failure. It was hard because it took me some time to realize that there is something worse than failure, and that is having to live all your life knowing that you didn't try.
EN: Very interesting ideas here. Now, before we finish this interview I would like to go back to your music. To the creative process, specifically. What triggers you to compose and what steps do you follow to go from start to end?
A: [A brief pause] What moves me to compose music is the same forces that move people to sing, to play, to meditate, to cry, to change: It all starts when something - an idea, a feeling, a conflict - nests inside my mind and heart and grows in silence until it becomes a threat to my sanity, and the only way to return to normality is to let that out.
Of course everybody goes through that. However, while people deal with those internal forces by talking to a relative or a close friend, or by writing on a diary; I deal with them by creating music that expresses whatever I need to let out.
The steps I follow to create music are nothing spectacular either. I always start in front of a keyboard - a piano or a synthesizer - improvising with no conscious direction. Then, as I freely combine chords and cadences, whatever it is that has been brewing in my heart and/or mind, starts influencing the way I assemble those chord sequences.
From that point on, it is just a matter of polishing those sequences until they reflect what I am feeling. Only when the sequences are a loyal representation of my feelings I can start the serious production.
EN: What do you mean by "serious production"?
A: I mean that only then I consider I have a possible track in my hands. You would be susprised if you knew how many sequences that never reached the "serious production" stage I have stored.
Only when I've reached that point I start figuring out all the other aspects, structure, style, instruments, etc.; everything that need to be put together to turn that rough draft into a fully-fledged track.
EN: What is that like?
A: Well, it can be tedious. You have have an idea of how you want the track to sound when it is finished, so your work consists in turning that idea into something audible.
You start by going through your instruments, through your sounds and through your effects, searching for each element that will contribute to make your track.
Depending on the complexity of the track and/or the uniqueness of its ambientation, it can be a very slow process. But it is a very exciting one. It is like witnessing a birth.
Your initial draft says what you want to say, but in a very rough way. Then, as you go reassembling the piece, this time using more refined and expressive elements, you see that rough idea evolving into a more elegant and expressive message; and from there into an acoustic poem that says exactly what you couldn't say with spoken words.
EN: A very illustrative analogy. Thank you for sharing your impressions with us at such a personal level. We wish you success on your own terms, and hope to hear your new material soon.
A: Thank you for this opportunity.
November, 2007