I’ve always had an active imagination. As a little boy, I used to spin round and round and make noises. Everybody called it “explosions”. But “they” didn’t understand me. They didn’t get exactly why I was spinning and making noises, so they just laughed and let me do it without asking too many questions. They figured it must be a passing phase. I remember them asking me: “Alon, Will you still be making explosions when you’re twenty?” And I always replied, “Yes.” I looked for a way to silence those people so they’d stop bothering me. I remember what those “explosions” were. It was my imagination, expressing what I felt, in the most liberated way possible. I would run in circles, making sounds, as I conjured up films, music and stories in my head. I created worlds and imagined scenes. I would think, pretend, imagine, and let my thoughts run wild. Today, I still make explosions. But in a different way; today I make music. My grandmother once said, “He never stopped making explosions; he started making music.”
In 2009, when I was in elementary school, a friend came to talk to me. He said that he’d found the software program of a giant piano that creates trance music, just like the kind our favorite artists made back then. Something about this idea really appealed to me. It was more than just an idea. That’s how I started to play, reverse and destroy things, the way I would do in a computer game. Basically it was just a hobby. I created music and even burned a disk that I called my first album, which I proudly gave to all my friends. When I got to junior high school, everything became much more serious. I remember the feeling that took control over my life — music, music and more music. My imagination had never been better. I remember one particular day, I got an idea to try something I was sure wouldn’t work. Anyway, I sent a piece I had written to one of my favorite artists at that time, and he responded in an amazing way. He said I had a very bright future. He asked me why I hadn’t signed a contract with a recording company, urging me to do so immediately. In a burst of enthusiasm, I began to send my music to different people and I got a similar response from all of them. I remember that excitement, how elated I felt from their reactions. That same day I also met my first music teacher, but he tried to convince me that he had nothing to teach me if I could create things like that. I insisted on studying with him, and as I began, he realized he’d been wrong. He understood that I had a lot to learn from someone with his many years of experience. During the years I spent in junior high school, I realized that music is everything to me. It’s more important than friends, more than love, more than family and more than me. Slowly I realized that music is me, and I am music. I can’t separate myself from it. Everything I do will be through music and it will always be there.
As music grew to be the central focus in my life, I cut myself off from everything else. I hated every minute of school, for me, it was like being in a prison. I stopped going out with friends and dating girls. I invested everything in learning, teachers, online lessons, whatever was available. If I wasn’t studying music, than I was making it. I was completely wrapped up in music, and everything else that had been meaningful before was pushed into a corner. I managed to get by three years of junior high school with great difficulty, ups and downs, dramas and nightmares. But the one thing I loved kept my head above water, it always kept me happy. Before I started high school, I got scared. I didn’t wanted to feel what I felt in the elementary school ever again, and this time I sensed it would be even worse. I remember the day I came to take entrance exams for music majors at the high school. The moment I got out of the car, I had a bad feeling, which grew stronger as I entered the building. Walking down the halls was all it took for me to realize that I wasn’t going back there. I couldn’t do it. The farther I went down the halls, the more this terrible dread overcame me. The dread from the handcuffs.
One day, a private teacher I had for sound design and synth building made me a tempting offer. He thought that I should transfer to a special kind of university instead of going to high school, called the Rimon School of Jazz and Contemporary Music. He said it would be a good place for me, and that it would be a lot better to learn what I really need, instead of wasting my time in high school. At first it was a fantasy, but little by little, that dream became a reality. I enrolled in the Rimon School. I arrived at the school with a very specific purpose: to be exposed to the world of music that I didn’t know yet. I wanted to understand the different forms, from classical to jazz, and to become familiar with renowned composers, various instruments, notes, harmonies and theory. To learn how to play the piano, scales, chords, steps and so on. I came to study anything about music that doesn’t come from the electronic world. As the youngest student there, I knew it wouldn’t be easy to make new friends at Rimon. After completing three years in junior high school, I kept minimal contact with people and even that stopped after I arrived at Rimon. I invested every fiber of my being to exploring music to my fullest potential. I had no friends, no girlfriend, no social connections and nowhere to go. Still, I was the happiest person I could possibly be. Whenever I discovered a new and interesting move, scale, composer or idea I was inspired by, I filled with pure joy.
Over the years I developed musically and personally. I would write compositions, albums and ideas just to figure out that I want to delete them. I bought every synth and program there is just to understand that I don’t need any of them. I built digital synthesizers, went to classical concerts, explored and used everything I learned in Rimon so I’ll be experienced enough and able to fully control every possible term of music. To be the master of the human imagination.
As time passed, I gradually matured. On January 20, 2015, I finished my first real album, “Masters of the Human Imagination.” I had a clear concept of what I wanted to include in my first album and this time, I had the knowledge and experience to do so. In terms of my musical development, I’d advanced tremendously and nothing else mattered. I developed obsessive-compulsive thoughts, the need to make sure that everything is perfect. These worries always occupied my mind, yet, my imagination was overflowing.
Music for me has always been and always will be, above all, over myself, over friends, over and above the love of family. I believe that music is everything, it’s the way we talk, the way we think, the way our dreams come to us when we are going to sleep. Music enters the dreams we have when we are awake. We can compare it to physics, mathematics and the evolution of everything that a person sees through his own perceptions. It accompanies us in life through our highs and lows, to the places we love less, and the places we love most. I believe that when people first meet you they look at your body, your clothes, your hair, your jewelry. They hear your speech and gaze into your eyes. That’s how they decide who you are. When people listen to your music, they look deep into your brain, and they can see the bad, the good, the obsessions, what you’re trying to hide and what you’re trying to show. And that is truly who you are, that is me. My music is me no matter what happens to me as a man, it always remain as a living, breathing part of me. I never stopped making “explosions.” The only difference is that today, the “explosions” are not just in my head, today they are my music.