I saw God on the train. But pretended I didn't. So, I've sat far away from the seat he was sitting in. And then he goes up I think probably to piss. And he noticed me there and said:

“Ohh, what's this?” “What are you saying? you're hiding from me?”

I said “Ahh mate, Nah… I’m just in my comfier seat.”

And he looked at me like I was a kid covered in chocolate, surrounded by wrappers, saying: “Don't know what happened! and he goes:

“Come on then, mate. I've got a few minutes. Tell me what's wrong. But don’t fuck around with it.”

And it shocked me then, that it fit in one sentence. I said:

“I just think Heaven's a stupid incentive. Like what a shit life for a beautiful death? And those who are evil can suddenly repent? Like a killer or nonce can live like a monster. Then right at the end say: “I'm sorry, dear God Sir,” and end up in Heaven right there with my Nana. She's doing some knitting; he’s waving a hammer. It's like, Jesus, God, what a horrible deal.”

“Yes, it’s fucked. And I know how you feel.”

And I'm like: “…mate, you're the one spinning the wheel.”

And he goes:

“Listen…, I’ll tell you a secret. All that stuff, mate. I didn't speak it. Like the old joke says about liars and men; If God wrote the book, why are you holding the pen? Nah, the rules I wrote, I wrote on your heart.

The truth I spoke you've known from the start; Be kind. Don't harm. It isn't that hard. Heaven's just life, if you're doing your part. You want white clouds and endless skies?

Err, yeah, look around. You don't have to die. And I know it probably brings you some pain to think of the dead as just dust in a grave. But humans can't comprehend it when I say:” Life is the cloud and Death is the rain.”

And I got to my stop and felt kind of mad, I'm not sure he answered the questions I had.

Then I looked up and saw the sun rising.

This album isn’t just music; it’s the travel diary of a soul that learnt to be even more resilient. It’s proof that when words fail—or are spoken in another language—melody becomes the only true homeland, your refuge, your new home.

“I Will Become You” is one of the pillars of this cathedral of sound. Inspired by the shadows and light of those who paved the way, this piece is an act of spiritual cannibalism and gratitude. In this particular song, the music is the result of every person we loved and lost. It’s an anthem to resilience: the conviction that to overcome pain, we must first allow it to transform us. “I Will Become You” isn’t about a loss of identity; it’s about creating a stronger version of ourselves.

There’s a dense atmosphere where the synthesisers seem to be searching for a way out. It represents those early years in the UK, where the warmth of Buenos Aires nostalgia clashes with the damp British chill. It’s a piece that feels like walking through London at three in the morning, feeling as though something is following us: our own past.

The music plays with time and space, positioning itself on the meridian that divides the world. It’s the exact point where the immigrant ceases to be “the one who arrived” and becomes “the one who belongs.” A circular structure that traps us in a loop of deep introspection.

This song abandons sophistication to embrace the visceral. It’s the rhythm of the survival instinct. Born from the heart of adaptation, it resonates with the energy of someone who has nothing to lose and everything to gain. It is sensual, electric, and desperately alive.

If life is a labyrinth of spirits, resilience is the thread that binds them together. A melody that begins fragilely and ends in an orchestral explosion, symbolising the overcoming of difficult times. It is confirmation that exile—physical or emotional—is the forge where an artist’s steel is tempered.

“Listening to HYPNOTIC is understanding that my actions yesterday, my fears on a plane, and my loneliness in an unfamiliar city were simply the necessary notes for this composition. In the end, we are all a song that someone else will finish writing.”

I hope you enjoy my new album as much as I do.

-ib21​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​