by Monti Karus
What happens when three traveling street musicians from different backgrounds come together into a single path for a brief snapshot of time? You get the culturally rich sound garden of the Kelebek Evrimi project.
I began with a classical training from age eight on violins made by my grandfather, from a half size to three quarter, then to his “number 2” with a finessed fiddleback grain in high glaze. His Luthier’s hands I remember as large and gnarly as they would trace the creases of my palm to elucidate future prospects. After ten years of scales and arpeggios working my way through graded texts filled with compositions by the gifted and deceased, a final concert in the embers of 1990 marked the occasion of my last musical performance on stage, aside from dreams.
Barely 12 months passed before my own strange sounds were committed to cassette tape for the first time, born of a natural necessity to do, and it was this background of prescribed exam pieces that gave me something to react against.
I always knew music was the path I wanted to devote my life to. Over the last few years of high school the constant batter of society with its expectations pushed me into believing that I needed to have a backup plan, a plan B. I was always pretty academic and loved learning whatever I could get my hands on. So with this plan B in mind, I followed the rest of the sheep and went to uni to do a Bachelor of Science at Sydney University. Even though I knew music was my passion.
by Joshua Lenzo
A lot has changed since high school; you get older, you get just as confused, and you don’t see those people that you used to see. You drift apart from those people that you were closest to. There’s nothing wrong with that, you go to different universities and fall into different friend groups, and you change as a person.
by The Real Mac
The song Too Late off our recently released EP Smoke Signals, which to the naked ear sounds like a love song about two people who are realizing they may be near the end of their relationship is, in fact, an analogy of a story that happened to myself and a friend of mine while backpacking across Europe.
If you’re an artist like me you probably struggle with feelings of doubt, irrelevance and despair on a regular basis. I often go through spells of “what am I doing?”, “why haven’t I made it yet?” to: “I’m not good enough,” “no one cares about what I’m making so why bother?” etc etc. The voices of doom are assholes and I’m gradually learning how to deal with them and not let them sabotage the good thing I’ve got going. In fact I’ve come up with a few tips as to how to stay cool when these voices start their onslaught.