TOMORROW'S DESTINY

This was my first real attempt at making an album. I was working within the limits of GarageBand, learning as I went, often pushing the software further than it really wanted to go. By the end of the project, I’d outgrown it and moved across to Logic Pro — something I probably should have done earlier in hindsight. But maybe that’s part of the story too. There’s something honest about hearing an album made while standing on the edge between learning and growing, figuring things out one song at a time.

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“Hypnotic” grew out of the strange music hidden inside everyday work. The rhythm came from a sampled paint filling and capping machine, those repetitive industrial sounds that somehow start getting into your head after hours around them. I leaned into that feeling and let the machines become part of the band. The track settles into a trance-like pulse, almost like the factory floor still echoing long after the day is done.

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“Pike River” was originally written for my father. He loved a gentle classical guitar piece he used to call “the water song,” and before he passed away, he asked for something like that to be played at his funeral. A year later, almost to the day, this piece quietly emerged on its own. I never really planned it — it just arrived. The melody carries a sense of water, memory, and distance, and in many ways became my way of sitting beside his memory for a little while longer.
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“Can You Hear Me Now? Album Mix” is deeply tied to the years I spent talking with my father on the phone, often through the quiet routines of everyday life. Those conversations became a lifeline between us in his final years. When I returned to the song to create this longer album version, I wanted it to breathe a little more, to hold the feeling of distance, connection, and all the things left lingering after the line goes quiet.

 

Walk on the Water: (Album Mix)features completely new vocals and was remixed and remastered for the album Tomorrow’s Destiny. Beneath the layered guitars and atmosphere, the song is really about standing your ground when workplaces, systems, or people try to wear you down. It’s about trusting your own instincts when the noise around you says otherwise. A reminder to hold onto your direction — and not let the bastards grind the spirit out of you.

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Tomorrow's Destiny" is a song about chasing the future while never quite being able to catch it. I first wrote it when I was 18, telling myself I’d finish it properly one day. But life has a way of pulling songs apart and scattering them across the years. This one stayed with me through all the twists and setbacks until I finally found my way back to it.

The album cover carries a bit of that history too — the photo was taken outside the house where I originally wrote the song. On the back is the old NESC logo I sketched during my college days, a small piece of the past that somehow survived the journey with me.

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Lockdown [Album Mix] - tries to capture the strange panic and tension that seemed to settle over the world during lockdowns — the empty shelves, the uncertainty, the surreal rush for things like toilet paper, as if everyday life was suddenly slipping sideways. For the album, I rebuilt the track almost from the ground up with new vocals, heavier guitars, and reworked samples. The darker sound felt more honest to the mood of that time — restless, uneasy, and a little claustrophobic.

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Come into the Room:
FOMO -

The Fear of missing out.

 

grew out of that strange modern feeling of FOMO — the fear that life is always happening somewhere else, just beyond reach. The spark for the song came while I was standing on the observation deck of the Burj Khalifa. I remember looking out over one of the most incredible views on earth when a group of girls came in, completely absorbed in taking selfies and filming themselves, barely noticing the city stretching out behind them.

It stayed with me. We live in a time where people are so busy capturing moments for social media that they sometimes miss the moment itself. This song wrestles with that tension — wanting connection, wanting meaning, but getting lost in the performance of it all.