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DEARest FRIENDS,

I have missed you and I guess you are all deep in festivity. That is good.

In the past months I have worked on and finally completed the fourth IAMX album. Whenever I had time I started to write to you. The outcome seemed way too sinister to share and over that period my thinking became very fragmented and abstract. Now that the music is written and recorded and I have some distance, I am beginning to feel well again and therefore have decided to share these thoughts. It is a collection of mumbles written down on different days. A mini diary. I hope it helps to give you a picture of where the mind goes during the creative process and the confusion of self inflicted artistic solitude. Please dont be frightened, I am generally a balanced person.

AS WE RECORD RANDOM PARTS FOR VAGUE SONGS THERE IS A WARM FEELING OF CONFIDENCE THAT I HAVE NOT EXPERIENCED BEFORE. GROUP CULTURE IN MUSIC IS A STONEY GROUND FOR ME. SOCIAL INTRICACIES AND PUZZLES. DELICATE SENSIBILITIES AND EGOS. IT IS CRUCIAL NOT TO KEEP REELING OUT THE SAME FORMULA SO IT FEELS A LITTLE THE WORKING TITLE OF THIS RECORD IS VOLATILE TIMES.

the effeminate sensitive bipolar creative depression of response and hurting. i see the pain in women and the distraction in men. i understand that having a wondering mind and a lot of time is becoming dangerous for the human race. too much convenience is building an insanity that only art can diffuse. no amount of affluence or hedonism can solve the problems. we are animals that are built and programmed to eat and fuck. the niggling feeling of vagueness and sadness must be based on the fact we dont connect with the genetic drive. you see now that of course we do eat and we do fuck but we tend to eat more than we tend to fuck since sex is still a taboo and the vile slobby quick fix satisfaction of overeating is encouraged in the western world. if we over fucked or over thought rather than over ate, perhaps there would be glimpses of a new enlightenment. love of the human form and its beauty and eroticism gives way to an insecure repressed society based on greed and lack of self confidence. easy is not easy. you pay for the garbage that you produce in your life. physical. psychological. who owns the oceans? i never thought about that. probably mcdonalds or some other disgusting food corporation.

I FEEL LIKE IM GIVING BIRTH TO AN UNWANTED CHILD. WITHOUT STRUGGLE.
INTENSE MOOD SWINGS. BULLYING.

MY FRIEND HAS A BROTHER WHO MAY BE IN TROUBLE. HE IS HURTING AND WE JUST ROLL ON WITH THE PROCESS OF TRIVIA LIKE NOTHING IS HAPPENING. MY LOVE IS IN PAIN EVERYDAY IN A MILLION DIFFERENT WAYS AND I CANNOT HELP. BECAUSE THAT PERSON IS ALONE JUST LIKE ME AND THE GARBAGE AROUND US STILL KEEPS FESTERING AND POISONING AND HURTING. OR IS THAT JUST ANOTHER WINGING POOR TORTURED CONFUSED ME MOMENT. EITHER WAYS IT STINKS.

EVERYTHING ABOUT ME BEING ME AT THE MOMENT DRIVES ME NUTTY. IT MUST BE SOMEHOW DEEPLY DAMAGING TO LISTEN TO YOUR OWN VOICE ON A LOOP FOR MONTH AFTER MONTH. I FEEL LIKE I AM IN A JARMANESQUE NIGHTMARE SURROUNDED BY HUNDREDS OF ME ALL WINGING AND CONTEMPLATING. WHAT AM I DOING? YOU ARE WORTHLESS, YOU CAN’T EAT THAT. ETC.

MY REACTION AS ALWAYS IS TO SLURP ON SOME WINE AND TO WATCH SOME LIGHT BUT INFORMATIVE DOCUMENTARY ABOUT ANIMALS. HOW I LONG TO BE AN ANIMAL. I CANT WAIT FOR THE STAGE AGAIN. I DENY I AM AN ATTENTION ADDICT. I JUST NEED A CHANGE OF SCENERY AFTER DOING TIME IN THE ALBUM PENETENTIARY. TOMORROW I WILL HAVE MY FIRST PHOTOSHOOT OF THE NEW CAMPAIGN. I FEEL LIKE MORE OF A SNIVELLING CHILD THAN A ROCK STAR SO PERHAPS I MUST DO SOMETHING RADICAL TO KICK ME BACK INTO ACTION. HA DID YOU SEE THAT? ROCK STAR. WHO THE FUCK DO I THINK I AM. I SHOULD BLAST A SPEEDBALL, BANG A FEW WHORES, SPIT ON A FEW GRANNIES AND DESTROY SOME CLOSE RELATIONSHIPS. UNFORTUNATELY THIS PLACE IS TOO FAR AWAY FROM CIVILISATION FOR THAT. ON MY RECENT SENSITIVITY HIGH, A STRONG COFFEE IS ENOUGH TO GET ME PSYCHOTIC; SO THAT MAY HELP.

BERLIN BERLIN.

WE ARE PLANNING THE FIRST TRACK TO BE HEARD. I WON’T CALL IT SINGLE AS THOSE DAYS ARE SO DEAD. THE FIRST PROMOTION MATERIAL FOR THE NEXT PHASE OF THE PROJECT LET’S CALL IT. THE SONG IS CALLED *GHOSTS OF UTOPIA*. MORE ELECTRONIC THAN I EXPECTED BUT OF INTEREST TO OTHERS I HOPE. APART FROM SHITTING THE BRICK OF THIS UNWANTED BASTARD CHILD OF A RECORD I ACTUALLY FEEL QUITE BALANCED. THERE ARE NO SINGLES NO COMPROMISES NO BABY CANDY. THE RECORD IS WHAT IT IS. CONSUME IT THEN DEMAND ANOTHER. A HORRIFIC COMA OF OK FOREVER AND EVER AMEN.

I PREDICT THAT OUR NEW INDUSTRY MODEL WILL PREVAIL. AS I HAVE ALWAYS FELT THERE SHOULD BE A DIRECT CHANNEL FROM ARTIST TO AUDIENCE. WE MUST EMBRACE THE GYPSY LIFESTYLE BECAUSE WE KNOW AND YOU KNOW THAT BEING ALIVE IS NOT ABOUT MONEY. MONEY IS FUNDAMENTALLY CORRUPT. IF YOU HAVE IT SPEND IT IF YOU DON’T THEN GET ENOUGH TO FORGET IT. IT PROBABLY SOUNDS PATRONISING BUT I THINK ANYBODY CAN HAVE IT AND ANYONE CAN LOSE IT.

WE PUT TOGETHER A HOTCH POTCH OF SELF MADE PROPS AND BROKEN FURNITURE FOR THE OFFICIAL PHOTOSHOOT TODAY. AS ALWAYS I BEGAN BY SEEING MYSELF AS AN ENEMY AND THEN LATER HAVING FUN WITH THE BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE TRYING TO HELP ME. OFTEN WORDS DON’T COME OUT TOO EASY. I AM A STRUGGLER AND A CHEAT AT BEST. AND SOMEWHERE DEEP DOWN I KNOW THAT MOST OF IT WILL BE PASSIVELY CONSUMED AND FORGOTTEN. I BANG ON ABOUT TIMELESSNESS AND HAVE NO SENSE OF IT.

I AM A LIAR TO MYSELF. I CARE TOO MUCH ABOUT THE WONDERING HURTFUL MUMBLES OF OTHERS. I PUT MYSELF INTO PICTURES AND COSTUMES FOR FUN AND DISTRACTION BUT I CAN’T AVOID THE VOID. I HOPE WRITING ABOUT IT WILL BEGIN TO DIVERT THE COMING DARKNESS INTO A JOKE OR AT LEAST SOMETHING USEFUL. THE WORK I’M ABOUT TO RELEASE IS ANOTHER PLASTIC PACKAGE OF LYING. I THOUGHT THAT JUST BY DOING THAT, GOOD THINGS WOULD COME OUT OF ME BUT I WAS WRONG. WHAT A FUCKING TWISTED PIG OF A MONSTER BRAIN. I WANT TO RIP IT OUT. I WANT TO DRILL A HOLE AND RELEASE THE BULGING JUNK. EVEN DRAMATICALLY WRITING LIKE THIS IS A FUCKING LIE. I LOVE MY MUSIC. WHAT A POISONOUS CONTAGIOUS TRAP.

GIVE ME INPUT. GIVE ME WARMTH AND LOVE AND SUCKING AND FUCKING AND PORN AND DRUGS AND CHOCOLATE AND ARCHITECTURE AND FANTASY AND DRESSING UP AND GAY AND LESBIAN AND DOGS AND GARDENS AND ONLINE SHOPPING AND MOVIES AND HOPE AND DEATH AND SAUNAS AND ONLY CHILDREN AND BERNADETTE AND INSECURITY AND BEER STINKING GOTH SEX CLUBS AND BANKING AND TINY RAPED BALLERINAS AND LOST OLD FRIENDS AND BLISSFULLY IGNORANT FAMILIES AND ANTIQUATED RELIGIOUS TORTURING MANIPULATIVE CUM BLOCKED CHILD FUCKING PRIESTS AND MULLAHS AND DIRTY MONEY AND THE BLACK BRUTAL FESTERING SICK DEPTHS OF THE HUMAN SOUL ON CAMERA AND A NEW SENSE OF HUMOR BECAUSE THE ONE I HAVE IS WORN OUT.

WHY DO YOU EVEN CARE?

Fire & Whispers Tour

I WILL DYE MY HAIR MOUSY BLONDY RED. MY NATURAL COLOUR IS NOT FAR OFF SO IT VAGUELY SUITS ME. NOTE MY AFFECTION FOR DOING MOST THINGS THE WRONG WAY.

NOT USING A PROFESSIONAL STYLIST OR DESIGNER. NOT USING A BIG NAME PRODUCER. NOT SIGNING TO A BIG RECORD COMPANY. THOSE DIRTY EXTORTIONISTS IN THE MONEY GAME ALL OOZING LIES AND USING AND ABUSING.

I HATE THEM ALL. THE WIFE AND KIDS IS NOT AN EXCUSE. I CAN’T BELIEVE IT TOOK ME THIS LONG TO REALLY WAKE UP TO THE WORLD AND GET NASTY. I JUST NEEDED TO GET OVER MYSELF. WHAT A BEAUTIFUL MOMENT IT WAS WHEN I REALISED I COULD PERSUADE MYSELF INTO NOT GIVING A FUCK ABOUT OPINONS AND EXPECATIONS OF THE SOCIAL NORM.
ARE WE NOT ALWAYS INSPIRED BY STORIES OF THE ECCENTRIC INDIVDUALS EXISTING OUTSIDE THE HYPOCRITICAL BOUNDARIES OF THE AVERAGE.
IN A PATHETIC HANGOVER FUG I MUST LET SOME OF THIS STEAM OUT.

YOU KNOW SOMETIMES I FEEL LIKE THE SALIERI OF THE UNIVERSE, JUST TASTING GLIMPSES OF ETERNITY AND MOVING UNDERSTANDING. RECOGNISING BEAUTY AND HORROR BUT NOT REALLY BEING A PART OF IT. NOT BEING ABLE TO GRAB ANY OF IT BY THE BALLS AND TO TRUELY ACCEPT LIFE. PERHAPS THIS IS JUST ANOTHER PROGRAMMED IDEAL THAT I THINK I SHOULD LIVE UPTO. WHATEVER IT IS IT FUCKING STINKS. THIS IS SURELY WHY WAR EXISTS. FRUSTRATION AND BOREDOM.

I START TO ASK WHY I DO IT AND WHY I DO IT ALONE. DEEP INSECURITY OR A HUGE LACK OF FAITH IN OTHERS?

I MUST GO AWAY AGAIN TO THE SOUTH. BERLIN IN THE WINTER IS TOO HAUNTING AND I AM SICK OF THE DARK PLACE TRIPS I TAKE MYSELF ON WHEN THE LIGHT DIES OUT EVERYDAY AT 4 PM.
I WANT LIGHT AND ENERGY AND POSITIVITY.
ANY SUGGESTIONS?

UNFORTUNATELY I CANNOT BRING MYSELF TO BRING ANY NUGGETS OF WISDOM OR LIGHT OR HOPE. THIS IS WHERE I AM AND I WANT NO PITY.
SO I DUG UP SOME OLD SONGS THAT I ALMOST WROTE BUT NEVER USED, REWROTE THEM, SPENT A LOT OF TIME DRESSING THEM UP AND NOW I HAVE ANOTHER ALBUM.
TODAY I CAN LOOK WITH PERSPECTIVE BACK ON THE LAST MONTHS OF INTERNAL HORROR AND JUST LAUGH.
HOW SIMPLE AND EASY IT ALL SEEMS WHEN YOU FINISH IT. AND WAKE UP FROM THE NIGHTMARE.

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