In the fall of last year, I was asked to participate in Bigo & Twigetti's fifth volume of the Perceptions compilation series, which explores various approaches to piano music. Complimenting the sound of the solo piano, these compositions also utilise nominal processing, sound effects, synthesis, and binaural recording techniques, all aiming to create an immersive listening experience while still showcasing my beloved instrument. As the clock ticked away and the deadline approached, I realised I hadn't found time to compose my contribution. For a few weeks, I've experienced a gnawing feeling of self-imposed pressure, mixed with anxiety and procrastination, that looped on itself and left me fatigued. I'm sure plenty of composers who are reading these words, especially those working on a deadline (like film soundtracks), know what I'm talking about. This, in itself, gave me a taste of this process at work. I learned that I simply cannot try and force things or make them appear. For me, music, as Victor Hugo once said, "expresses that which cannot be put into words and that which cannot remain silent…" I needed to have something special to say...

As the end of the year approached, I found myself in that "usual space" of December, where the dark and the cold seemed to mix with my mood, and I recount the days and the moments of passing. There's always reflection on what I've achieved, and of course, I look back at my favourite albums of the year. Somewhere around this time, I arrive at the acceptance of failure, preparing to message the label and withdraw from the project. I think I'm too busy with "all other stuff". Perhaps I'll start over as the new year turns. Perhaps I'll become a bit more organised or not commit myself to the deadlines. In the very last days of the year, I find myself investing time in consoling my friend whose mother has passed away. As always, besides the grief for another, we find ourselves reflecting on our own mortality... and the meaning of it all... As the clock strikes midnight, I am deep asleep. But the morning comes, as it does every morning. And we're at it again, starting fresh and anew. The windows open, and we breathe in and out. Maybe this time, it will be slightly different. Maybe this time we have learned... On the morning of January 1st, I find myself sitting at the piano and playing this simple melody. I hope that you'll hear what I'm saying in music...

Perceptions Vol​​​.​​​5

Morning, January 1st

Mike Lazarev - Morning, January 1st

some original solo piano pieces...  some mixes from my podcast... some exclusive track premieres...  and some tracks from the albums I review for Headphone Commute... Enjoy!