April 19, 2026

Closing the preview soon: a small sneak peek of the Fenice booklet for the two tracks already released

Only a few days remain until the permanent closure of the preview access to our work. We have decided to share with those who have followed us this far an excerpt of what you will find inside the final project: the reflections and the genesis of the first two tracks, Phoenix and Gate of Solitude.

Phoenix and its time

Phoenix was the first track to be born, and it was also the one used to fine-tune my hearing. It emerged from the enthusiasm of "making it," but it also severely tested my way of hearing—and, I believe, the patience of my friends. It is a vibrant track that, in my opinion, perfectly reflects the concept of rebirth on a musical level. We worked on it extensively, not just because it is complex—which it partly is—but primarily because it put me in a state of crisis. My perception of sound was at stake; therefore, it took time and new mappings to reach a decent listening level. The patience of the Ross crew was decisive in this phase, but I expected nothing less: we are friends first and foremost, and they fully understand my difficulties. One trial at a time, I trained my brain to scan and comprehend the data sent by the processor. It took time—a lot of it—and it wasn't easy. Meanwhile, as I improved, I realized that standard recordings no longer satisfied me; it felt like something was missing, though I couldn't grasp what. Yet they were good, the track flowed, but something was absent as the first year drew to a close... We have risen from the ashes, there is no doubt, and Phoenix perfectly represents this rebirth with atmospheres dedicated to this concept and a sound that is intentionally "analog-dirty," if you will.

Gate of solitude

This is the second track brought to life. It is the awareness of how much deafness is accompanied by loneliness and despair. You lose contact with the world, with family, and with friends. You have no way of understanding, and you live in a world of perpetual silence—a silence so profound that it strips away even the perception of yourself. I experienced this handicap in a devastating way. Before, when I was a normal-hearing person, I never asked myself what it felt like to not even hear oneself; then, I understood. I understood what I had lost, and it was the most traumatizing realization. Sure, on the outside, I am a born fighter—I never gave up and did everything to reclaim my hearing, at least in part. But inside... I was dying day by day. This piece is my despair, which Dave's guitar managed to interpret masterfully in my view. It is desperate, painful, screaming, and naked in its cumbersome fragility, while the drums mark the passing time and the synths weave a carpet that supports an immense sadness and an endless solitude.