"Empty Shore"

I believe that a performance carries the performer’s state of mind directly into the sound.

It’s not spiritual, and it has nothing to do with mysticism.

It’s simply like how, when you’re with someone, you can sense their mindset.

When someone touches on a topic that shouldn’t be touched, you feel that slight tension in the air.

When you’re with someone who’s irritated, you end up irritated too.

Maybe that’s why I dislike crowds.

A person’s mood, their mental state— it spreads to the people around them.

And when I’m performing, the audience is trying to receive something from me, so my inner state becomes even harder to hide.

I’ve only recently started to understand this.

So these days, instead of thinking about what I want to express, I try to stay comfortable— to reduce inner noise— to aim for emptiness when I play.

And when I manage that, people tell me my sound feels good.

Recently, I’ve been releasing an ambient guitar series called “Empty Shore.”

When I compose or perform, I let the music arise naturally from that empty, quiet place.

When I make music, or when I improvise freely, or when I sit with sound while keeping myself clear,
the image that appears in my mind is an empty shoreline.

I might be sitting there alone.

Or walking along the sand.

It’s not a deserted island— there are traces of human life somewhere— yet no one is in sight.

Maybe that’s my kind of utopia.

Today the world is overflowing with stimulation.

Everything is loud, reactive, immediate.

People respond only to stimuli.

It feels like everyone is stuck in that mode lately.

What I want to offer is something different— a place away from all that noise, a space that encourages
a moment of self-reflection.