songs vs. albums

Some may say an album is just a collection of songs. I disagree. It’s a house, and I’m currently building one.

I released my last album, the world is still beautiful (2023), and after that, I decided to focus on songs and to not make another album. My reasoning: an album is a ton of work, a lot of costs. It takes time and energy to write, record, and make it fit together. And as an independent artist, I couldn't tell if anyone will listen, care or resonate with the music. So it does feel like a big risk.

Yet, at the end of last year, I still decided to make an album. Because it’s fun. Because it’s like building a house. Each song is a room. One is a sparse, light-filled space by a fireplace. Another is a living room with loved ones around. Maybe there’s a private getaway that feels almost too personal to share. A balcony for a late-night drink, a cigarette, and long conversation. A bedroom filled with desire and passion.

And yes, there’s trash laying around, chaos, and whatever else fits in the description of life. You live in these rooms, write about them, explore them, and then present them as part of a bigger space.

I had a plan for this album, but it revealed itself differently. Sometimes, you just have to let it be and play. This way I discovered new corners, like an old photo framed on a wall, a note tucked under the bed, a brief memory of a time long forgotten. I ended up with a space that feels familiar yet scary. Beautiful and messy. Just like life itself.

Finishing is the hardest part. The thrill of new ideas fades, and the temptation to clean the floors, throw out the trash, hide the notebook under the bed, grows. But sometimes that mess is exactly what makes it real.

Sometimes, art isn’t about giving answers or even asking questions. It’s just a place to go, where its meaning reveals itself differently to everyone who enters.

Art needs no introduction. No explanation. Just a place to be.

play. play. play.

music is play.

there ain’t no right. there ain’t no wrong.

i forgot that.

been making it for so long,

always trying to get better,

i forgot.

music is play.

so i’m here, playing.

some ideas will resonate with you.

some ideas will resonate with me.

hopefully, some with both.

but in the end,

it’s just play.

and i fuckin’ love it.

there is always another idea

I picked up the guitar when I was around ten years old. After learning my first few chords, I wrote my first song. From the very beginning, I was more drawn to creating something new than replaying someone else’s work.

A few years ago, I dove into a lot of songwriting sessions with other artists and producers. It was fun, but looking back, I see what held me back. I was clinging to ideas. I didn’t want to waste a lyric, a sound, a riff.

Now, especially as I’m working on my new album, I’ve realized something different. there will always be a next idea. Another riff, another line. It’s not that creating more empties you out. It’s the opposite. The more you create, the more ideas come to you. The more open you walk through life, the more sparks you’ll notice.

And I think that’s true for more than just music. Take love. If you love more, you don’t run out of it. It multiplies. For people, for nature, for life.

freedom isn‘t escape. it’s surrender

written on an early morning in barcelona, after my second coffee and a head full of plans.

I was always drawn to control. I wanted to control how people perceive me. how I wanted to be seen. not boxed in. not trapped in that self-made prison we all fall into from time to time. built from beliefs, doubts, and the stories we keep telling ourselves, whether they’re true or not.

the quiet temptation of a free life.

one thing I’ve seen and learned to live with are my strong contradictions. life isn’t a straight line toward growth or being better than yesterday. it’s a big playground you get to discover and live in. sometimes it’s dirty and dark, sometimes playful and clear. and in the next moment everything can be different.

in the end freedom shouldn’t be an escape. not a place or a state to reach, but surrender. surrender to life, to the unpredictability of it all, and to oneself. I feel that’s the only way you can truly be free in a non-destructive way. a place of healing, of love, of beautiful existence.

whatever that means.

why i keep writing in a time of AI

it’s a fascinating time for music. and for musicians. this morning i was listening to an AI-generated song while surfing the internet and, tbh, it sounded really good. if i hadn’t known it was created solely by AI, i’m not sure i would have noticed. i don’t know if that says more about the quality of AI or about most music nowadays. and honestly, i don’t really care.

but it did make me question why i want to not only make music, but release it, share it, and try to make a living from it. in the end, it’s connection, i guess. not being alone. sharing your story, and hearing back from people all around the world who connect with it. who see parts of themselves in it, or part of their own story.

for me, that’s reason enough. so i’ll keep writing, performing, and recording. some songs will get a response, some won’t. and that’s okay. i just feel truly blessed to have the opportunity not only to create but to share it and to hear back from you. so if there’s something you’d like to tell me, ask, or whatever it is, write me a message (michael@michael-benjamin-music.com).

in the meantime, i’ll be creating music i love and publishing it for others to make their own, too.