From time to time, we exchanged our creative sketches. He would send me short piano pieces, recorded on video. And I would listen, mesmerised by how shy yet unbearably intimate his playing was. But my favourite moments were always at the very end - when he reached for the screen to press stop rec. There was something in the way he looked “at me” through that lens. Tender. Gentle. Bashful. Loving. He truly played for me…
And I sang for him.
At nights, I would stand in the stage-light of my bow window, letting melodies pour straight from my soul. Then I would carefully pick the most intimate fragment to send him. And he would listen, captivated. He would tell me exactly what I wanted to hear:
"In the way you sing, I can feel your soul…”
But once my pianist said something that ripped the lid off a Pandora’s box I had locked away in the deepest, dustiest corner of my attic. He said: “I wish I could watch you…”
The sentence ended innocently - ”…write music in Ableton.”
But my mind never made it that far.
Those first words were a red rag to the bull, an electric trigger that sent the furious demon free from its chains. Could I stop it? Not a chance. The exhibitionist in me was too strong, too wild, to be contained.
Watch me.Watch Meee!!!
In moments, I spun a thick, dark, slow rhythm in Ableton and turned on my mic. My thoughts dissolved. I let the demon speak.
Meanwhile, fragments of the future flickered across the inner screen of my consciousness...
It terrified me. And viciously turned me on beyond reason...
After I sent him that video, my soulful pianist vanished. And I could understand. Even I hadn’t expected That to break free. But it was too late.
The daring, dominant, filthy part of me had seized the throne - taking full decision-making responsibility.
And I surrendered.
Or did I though? No… I simply stopped resisting her. I let go and trusted the visions of the future that looked far too enticing to ignore.
I dove into creating “Watch Me” track, and with each passing day, the project grew richer, fed by new waves of creative impulse. One idea in particular refused to be silenced: layering the background vocals with a recording of my pleasure - from prelude to climax.
- That's too much, too bold - do you hear me, you horned evil?!