I'm from Brisbane, and like most people starting out, I found my way into this by caring deeply about music and fumbling forward until the path started to take shape. There was no plan B, no fallback career, no clean origin story — just a long stretch of years where the only thing that made consistent sense was making something.
Music has never felt separate from the rest of my life. It's in the decisions I make, the people I spend time with, the shows I go to, and the way I understand the world around me. It's not something I clock into and out of. It lives with me.
On real instruments and ones and zeros.
I love real people. I love real instruments. I also love what can be done with ones and zeros. I'm not anti-technology, and I've never met a soft synth that made me recoil. But what matters most to me is remembering where the magic actually lives: in people. We're the ones pushing the keys, turning the knobs, plucking the strings, and hitting the drums. That's where the feeling comes from.
I think that's why I've always been drawn to music that feels human, even when it's big, electronic, or built in a modern way. I want things to sound alive. I want them to carry feeling. I want them to sound like they came from somewhere real — like a room, a hand, a moment, a person — not from a template that's been sold to a thousand other artists.
No mythology. No act.
I'm a pretty open person by nature, and I'd rather let people see the real version of me than build some polished mythology around it. The electronic scene has plenty of artists who lean on distance and luxury optics, and that's never been the route. What matters to me is the work, the feeling in it, and the connection it creates.
So this is me, as I am. No big mythology. Just a regular guy who cares deeply about music and is trying to make something real with it.
— Ben