the bachelor

Osvaldo feeds off Gustavo’s ears, and Gustavo is in awe of Osvaldo’s magic. One “writes” music, the other “produces” music. They both make an evening of fun. Is it just a question of tools?

Whenever I meet good singersongwriters, they’re always in awe of my wide-ranging credits and training, while I’m simply amazed at the songs they created with no training whatsoever. They try to ask me for composition lessons (I laugh); I ask if they need any arrangements, hoping to learn for myself their gift, their craft.

I’m a Bachelor – both by degree, and by identification. I’ve never applied for a Masters, and have neither joined the camp of “composers” or “songwriters”. I went to college for music, but have been using as little of what I learned there in my work as possible. At the same time, the squares (pun intended) that satisfy and inspire most songwriters are rigid and worrying for me, they make me feel responsible, give me head rushes that scream for a change.

I try to write this “Bachelor” music – music for the dogmatic snobs that still have their hearts open, this kind of sound where you think you know the world but have barely traveled, where you act confident but when you sit down, your knees are shaking; the kind of music which can be described by a 25-word tagline which is a confidence-instilling, attention-grabbing synonym for “I don’t know… enjoy…”

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