What is Success?: HAVASI – The Road


The road is kinda bumpy. I’m feeling the cold under my shoes, and inside. The icecold wind is all around me, and raging from within, and it is fucking freezing. I’m in Switzerland on a bumpy road, filled with rotten concrete, amidst the never-ending snow. The land is covered in white and the pen in my hand, shivering above the piece of paper in my other hand, black. The colour of this plastic writing tool is in strong contrast with the bleak reality surrounding it. I was at a conference yesterday. It talked about success, not failure, being scary. They made us do an exercise. If we could kindly close our eyes and envision what, to us, success looked like? I saw a home; a place where I could be myself, where I could peacefully retreat, while holding a pen in my hand. About a year ago, I once entered such a home. And my stay there was of great significance. For, when I went away, I had not noticed that I had hidden my heart in a corner of that house. And none of its inhabitants, none of the people occupying that place, have realised I left it there. And that it is still there. And now I realise that I was so close to success then, yet so unaware of it. I long to feel that kind of success again. And to write all kinds of life stories in great detail. But I can’t. I cannot. Because the door to any writing seems of little significance when my heart is not even part of the entrance.


As with all my short stories, the underlying meaning becomes stronger after having watched the music video, so feel free to watch it below.

Director of Music Video: Peter Graf 



Like Machines in Your Ear: Trixie Whitley – Soft Spoken Words


When he talks, love sounds come out (or so it would seem). But here’s the thing: a simple statement contains a ton of information apart from the words themselves. Even when words of love are soft-spoken and seemingly full of love, there are all these other layers. Layers that psychics, or lunatics, call “reading between the lines”. Cause we all know that even the most lovely words of all – “I love you” – can often mean nothing.

When your soft-spoken words sound like machines in my ear.

When he speaks, love sounds come out. And he may think they mean anything, but not necessarily so. Some love stories down the road, you’ve come to learn that words are merely words. Unless there is courage involved.  But often there is none. Maybe because of the situation, or because of him, or maybe because of you. But whatever the reason may be, in the end all these love sounds still just feel like … machinery. Stuff you’re supposed to say, or you’re supposed to feel.

When your soft-spoken words sound like machines in my ear.

But the truth is that one can never feel complete, unless you dare to listen to the most painful words of all. And that, dare I say, is where true love comes into play.

Director of this Music Video: Derrick Belcham



Milk & Capitalism: The Prodigy – Baby’s Got a Temper


These days milk is really no special product. Anyone can get it and, let’s face it, everyone is using. How else to face the daily 9 to 5 reality of today’s so-called “market efficiency”? How else to stay hyper-productive during the work day? Even the milk makers themselves need it to do their job efficiently. Because pure, tasty, qualitatively good milk requires strict product processing.

And you can’t have any of the supply chain girls stealing it either. This is why they have to perform nakedly. After all, one must obey the number one law of any capitalist product: Never Trust thy Employee. And the second, equally as important law: Honour thy Consumer (as expressed by the clone Sonmi-451 in the movie “Cloud Atlas”).

This baby’s got a temper, you’ll never tame her.

Now this line right here is pretty interesting, cause what does it refer to? Could refer to anything really … Option number one: The Consumer (for one can never have enough milk). Option number two: The milk itself or, more specifically, the crazy cow who made it. We like rohypnol. But I guess all products have an expiration date. So maybe it’s not milk that is the future but, rather, rohypnol. Because, really, what better way to deal with capitalism than a forget-me pill? This baby’s got a temper, you’ll never tame her. Or, no, wait. Maybe the line actually refers to option number three: Capitalism itself. That sounds awful.

Please hit me a new line. Or a shot of milk.

Director of this Music Video: Traktor



You Can’t Tame a Wild One: Lucky Rose ft. Tep No – Wild One

Short story based on music video “Wild One” of DJs Lucky Rose and Tep No.


It’s difficult to tame a wild one. They all want one, until they actually have one. Then it blows up in their faces. You simply can’t tame the one thing that is too afraid to be caged. It will kick and scream, yell and spit, punch and hit you, right where it hurts. Whatever needs to be done to avoid entering the cage. Most of them keep trying anyway. But not much so with him. He lets me be. We can go for these long, quiet walks in the woods. And he’ll curiously jump and run around like mad, in some kind of childlike overexcitement. But he’s got his eye on me though. Follows me around. And even when I feel alone, I just look about, and guess who’s still around. He’s just as wild as me, exploring all them different corners ferociously. But sometimes I do keep him on a leash … Like when he’s been naughty, screwing up my carefully constructed territory. That much curiosity should sometimes be restrained. But the cuddles, well, they’re the best. His soft skin complements my firm face. And he’s so cute when he sleeps. And he’s strong. And protective of me. He’ll save me from anything, if necessary, though he knows I can take perfect care of my own. And when I dance the night away, he doesn’t care whether or not I’m drunk. Doesn’t feel the need to show the dance floor the two of us belong. He knows I am the loyal kind. He knows that I know that he’s around. Honestly, all the times I went out without him, it felt like I had left some kind of important piece of myself behind. So really, … who needs a man when you’ve got a dog?

Director of music video: Not mentioned anywhere – ? UltraMusic


What Actual Travelling Feels Like: The Blaze – Territory

Short story inspired by the music video of The Blaze for the song “Territory”.


This is what a real traveller feels like: Homeless. Without home. Not the place where you were born, not the place where you are now. And the sound of music that you float on exists of a million different cultural pieces from now on.

Travelling as a word has become a trend these days. But there are different kinds of travel. Travelling away, far from home, but knowing you’ve got one, is for example very different from actual travelling: Travelling as done by the lone wolves in the movies, travelling as done by the human species centuries ago. When there is not a place on earth you actually belong, when you have become a Nowhere Man, meeting people but never really being understood, then you are a real traveller.

Your home isn’t anywhere. Not where you were born. Not where you are now. Not all the different places in between. Not the airports, not the stations, not the cities you’ve been passing by. It is simply non-existent. It is simply … You.

Flowing lost and alone is how to recognise a true traveller. The one who travels around, reluctantly, with an open mind. The one who carries his shell on his back, while moving slowly towards the one true path: The path of belonging. But all humans are fundamentally alone (no matter how big the pack is), and any real traveller knows: There isn’t any territory, any region, any people in which I’ll ever fully belong.

In truth, the real traveller is a reluctant one. It is the one floating ball that actually doesn’t like travelling at all.

Director of music video: Jonathan and Guillaume Alric (The Blaze)



Monday: Get into your Work and Clothes

Inspired by music video: Chinese Man feat. lots of other folks – Get up.

Alarmclock. For, like, the fifth time. Cause snoozing is an actual lifestyle. You look at the clock: 7 AM. Aaaaaargh. Mondays.

Oh, the pain! You want to get out of bed, you really do, cause working is relatively cool, but … It’s just so difficult, you know? It’s like your soul wants to get up, but your body is just not buying it. These legs just feel like lead. And it’s so warm here, you know? Here in my Oh So Cosy Soft-Skinned Bed. So warm and comfortable and … safe. Unlike the cold, harsh, industrious world out there. But so, whether you like it or not, your body is still in Weekend Mode.

So you know it’s time to pull out the big guns: them fluffy, creepy potheads of Chinese Man. You pick up the remote, point it towards your barely-used retro stereo, and let the music slowly sink in … Get up, get up. Yep. There it goes. You’re starting to feel some movement in the legs.

Get up, get up, you lazy lout. Reminds you of your mom back in high school. “Get up, get up, you lazy lout, get into your work and clothes.” Yes. Let’s do this. Get up, dude. We gotta suit up, then clock in and go to work. And before you know it, you’re out of the bed, using both those feet again. Feeling the cold, hard winter-y floor. You’re up! Yes! You made it! And you pose like that guy from Ratatouille, that useless red-haired kid who sucks at his job, while screaming “Let’s do this thing!“, and you’re off, into the world. Into the big bright beautiful world.

Of course, this doesn’t work on Fridays.

Director: Fred & Annabelle

Brace Yourself: Here Comes the Feeling

Inspired by music video: Until the Ribbon Breaks – Here Comes the Feeling


Sitting ducks on razorblades, just waiting to be swallowed by the soup. That’s how deep inner pain feels. Specifically the kind that keeps popping up. Like rejection. And you know exactly how it feels. So you’re mentally preparing to let it drain you. Brace yourself, because… here comes the feeling. Only that, this time, there’s no addiction nor gossip nor any activities to distract you from the feeling. That all too familiar feeling. This time there’s nothing to numb down the pain. No cookies, no social media, no weed. Just the one feeling, which you are forced to feel. It’s the kind of feeling you’d give anything for just to avoid feeling it at all (did someone ask for a ‘workaholic’? Here, pick me).

Imagine a tiny train on a racing track inside of your head, racing at more than 500km per hour, heading straight for your heart. Here comes the feeling – but not the words. Certain feelings, especially if deep, do not need words. They can just be ‘hanging in the air’. Like a deep dark energy, or some kind of malicious ‘vibe’. And you know what the sad part is? … The sad part is that you know this feeling just too darn well! It’s like the repetition of a bad dream. Instead of waking up, like you normally would, this tiny train of thought just goes round and round and round. Again and again. A loop within a loop within a loop.

That is, until the ribbon breaks, and its heavy load is unleashed upon your heart. And your train of thought has finally arrived at the end stop. That is, until the next trigger pops up.

Director of music video: Until the Ribbon Breaks


Zornik – Scared of Yourself


Think about the lies that we told to each other. All those lies, all those sentences that we tell each other, day in day out. All that stuff of which we never knew it went out of our minds, and into someone else’s. And it remains there. Strange but true. And it’s only seven years later, when you accidentally meet this person again, that you realise: what I said back then, it stuck. And you realise what a fool you were back then, and how you didn’t know what you were saying, and how you didn’t think that one, small sentence would remain stuck in the other person’s head, and you tell yourself that from now on, you’ll never say stuff like that again. But five minutes later you already forgot this promise to yourself, as we always do with important difficult things, and before you know it, you’re back in the same old place, wandering around planet Earth telling people lies that they themselves believe. What a big surprise that you’re scared of yourself, and alone, again. And that voice that was once yours, becomes a tiny voice in their heads, a tiny critic never really going away. It stays. It stucks. And never again are you reminded of the fact that this one person, a person you didn’t wish anything particularly bad, is now living his life judging himself for something stupid you once said. Because, in truth, we are all nothing but a state of mind. From the start, until the End.


Director of MV: Peter van Eyndt



Aerosmith – Pink

Pink – it’s not even a question. Try to do a music video on the colour Pink. I’m thinking Barbie, the Pink Panther, Think Pink, and, of course, the colour pink. Yet, Aerosmith chose to do something entirely different. Cause what is pink other than something that sticks out in a crowd? Pink, my friends, is the new kind of cool. It’s the premonition of Pinkish Lady Gaga-like personalities. I want to be your lover. Cause you’re cool, and weird. I like that. Respect that. Who doesn’t like Pink? Pink is fucking awesome, and weird. Weird equals unique. Unique equals diversity. Diversity equals cool. Hence, Pink = True. People who are Pink light up your bedroom and your fuel. You could be my flamingo. Oh, can I?! I would love to be your flamingo! This is gonna be so much fun! Ah yes, pink. It’s kink. Pink is, by far, my favourite crayon to colour the edges of life with. I mean, think about it. Pink – It’s like red, but not quite.

Director of MV: Doug Nichol



Gotye – State of the Art


State of the art. Ah yes, why go purchase an actual instrument when you’ve got a computer? No wait, no. Not just any computer, a Cotillion D575. Why try to be artistic when you’ve got a simple computer to shizzle the dizzle for ya? And how much art is really art, anyway? If art is mere self-expression, we’re actually all artists, right? These amazing simulations end up sounding even better than the real thing! Yup. Just pick them beats, carefully selected for you by a team of high-end musically attuned developers, and you’ve got yourself the right material to end up famous. Go forth and imitate, by use of a computer. Who needs artists when you’ve got computers? Take the 1970 Cotillion. That thing is a Bomb. One could conquer the universe with that thing. Brainstorm humans, colonise Mars, take over planet. Try doing that with just a plain old guitar. No, no. In today’s music playground, samples are where you wanna be. Whether it be a sample of Gotye, or one of Frances Yip. Because there are really just two kind of musicians: the ones who staple samples one on top of the other (imitation), and the ones who actually use different samples to create a whole new art form (originality). But creating new patterns or playing with conventions is never as easy as it sounds, is it? Before you know it you’ve got exactly that: entertainment exploitation, from the comfort of your home or really just from your very own comfort zone. Invite the neighbours around. And just stay at home. Glad to see Gotye’s the latter though. Enjoy the state of the art. 

Director of MV: Gotye