Music Style Beetwen electro-pop and contemporary, classical

Musical Influences Eno, Tuxedo Moon, Kraftwerk, Debussy, Messiaen, Daftpunk

Artist History I was born in Budapest at a time when my father bathed in the largest lake in Central Europe. A large baby weighing 11 pounds... The obstetrician said to my mother "but you are a factory for boys"- I was supposed to be named Fanny. The wonderful 1970's : bell-bottom pants, scratchy shirts. Paris : the construction of the "Pits of Les Halles" when one had to crass the construction site to find the metro stop. Disturbing work! and those curious green fences! A happy chilhood, vacations in a house set on a mountainside which was lit by candle light, where water was brought by car. In the morning wild boars would scratch themselves against the thick gate-a view of the largest lake in Central Europe, stingingbees and prunes! Those tastey prunes! Paris : la Place des Vosges, the Marais, dark, empty and sad; one evening, much later a man will laugh at 4 in the morning on rue des Archives and his laugh will echo through empty city. The first thing I'd visit in the immense apartment of my grandmother-strange woman who hated my mother, very thin, dressed in blue sable, blind, pale, with long white hair-was the piano : an old Pleyel upright from 1914, a soft, thin sound, good medium regester, a full but weak bass. A hungarian maid, simple in spirit. One day she fell asleep on our antique coal stove. My mother on coming home was terrified to smell something burning. Afraid for us, she entered the apt, and in short, found our maid Vilma sleeping, and her dress starting to catch fire. She awoke and felt nothing. At that time, I played Goldorak with my brother. I loved cartoons and would scribble twisted figures with huge noses; would write incomprehensible stories. I wanted to be a painter like Opapa (my grandfather). I loved to eat... I ate way too much. I was fat. That didn't really bother me, I was happy (a photo of a big boy in what looks like a hand-knitted sweater...with several stains...a polaroid). But drawing wasn't enough, I couldn't forget myself totally, couldn't fell free. The piano : long hours passed in playing just about everything, trying the sonorities, entertaining myself with mystical sounds made from scraped and plucked strings. One day, the greek composer Nicolas Papadimitriou, my master, said to me : "you will be a composer". Next came determined work, enthusiasm, the discovery of sound worlds organized by man's hand, Bach, Debussy, above all Debussy. Then came the experimenters, the 20th century, triomphing in its will of progress and "the New", in its will of destruction... I passed evenings playing for girls, believing I was seducing them, had long hair, an easy adolescence, debates in cafés... An older brother who became lost in illness, schizophrenia. My parents, faced with this situation, were consumed with grief. To serve music as a saving Goddess. I henceforth dedicated all my strength, the Bac, then the Ecole Normale de Musique, lot's of courses with bizarre names (the worst was that with the beautiful name : Harmony, I prefered the one with the even more beautiful name : Fugue, or flight). A flight to Hungary, I left all for her, I followed a frantic course, losing 60t pounds, a year of freedom and joy, of solitude. But to return : many pleasant professors with french names (I who had passed my childhood surrounded by exiled poets, alcohlics, who rolled their R's like a thunder clap). All was knowledge...then diplomas. I left that, and knew nothing, writing preformed music, to be played with no surprise, no emotion, no expression. After that, no more writing, trying instead experimental music, violently hitting the instruments, nothing if not excess, screaming with electric guitars. One day, or rather one evening, something changed. NO LONGER SERVE MUSIC. serve instead, touch, the human, express, mix, all which passed, the future, the hopes which all men hold. Make illness beautiful, happiness dazzling, discover naivity, give music again its humanity to love, alway love...

Instruments Computer

Albums Melotronic

Location Paris, France - France

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