seeking a deep conversation

i might have cracked the secret to happiness, and i’m more than excited to share it with you: if you need something but can’t get it from anybody, you need to make sure YOU can give that thing to yourself. love, care, money, freedom — you name it. deep conversations are among the things i need the most, and since it’s not always easy to find people who truly listen and respond to your thoughts, i started writing songs that feel like transcripts of conversations – happening mostly in my head.

it was about a year ago when my family went to Spain for a few days, and i could enjoy making music without switching the lights off and putting headphones on, even at 2 am — making sure the neighbours could hear it in their dreams. the song, track #2 on EP2 and also its title track, wanted to come out of me so badly that i just let it. and i couldn’t stop singing it.

i recorded the most amazing backing vocals, worked on it for days and even shared parts of it on social media.

then, a few days later, when i went back to finish it, it was gone. the whole Logic project had simply disappeared.

i was furious. sad. angry. disappointed. desperate to find it. it made me fucking mad.

i had to build the song again from scratch, but at least, despite apparently being too dumb to save the project properly, i had saved the drum loop i made. so, back to square two, i started building a new version of “deep conversation”. and then i started playing it live.

verse-like chorus or chorus-like verse?

you might have noticed that i often only write one verse-like chorus (that is also one bridge-like verse) that makes me think: yeah. that’s it. that’s everything i want to say. the first song like this was “floating”. i sat on those vocals for years because i didn’t know how to build a whole song around them. then i realised i didn’t have to. i didn’t always have to keep singing in order to express something. sometimes the voice could disappear and the instrumental could continue the conversation instead.

something changed in me with “floating”. i started wanting to use my voice less and create more space around it.

back to “deep conversation”. i’m not sure whether the freshly released version is the best possible version, and i probably never will be. but losing the first project and rebuilding the song didn’t change what it was about. it didn’t change my need to go deeper than small talk.

the song only has one verse, but it says more than i could probably share face to face. i often write lyrics about things that are difficult to simply say out loud. it’s much easier to hide my feelings inside a song and pretend i have nothing to do with the person it’s about.*

*no, i think it’s usually quite clear actually.

so why am i writing about “deep conversation” now?

because it’s coming to major streaming platforms and digital stores as a single next Sunday, 9 August, and you can pre-save it HERE.

pre-saves are an absolute win-win, by the way. you won’t have to remember to search for the song later, and i can make sure you know when it’s out. i might even know your name and be able to address my gratitude properly.

i know my release strategy might seem a little confusing. the EP is already available on bandcamp, my website and subvert, while its songs are only gradually arriving on the major streaming platforms. but besides cracking the secret to happiness, i’ve realised something else: i believe in my music.

if i didn’t believe these songs could genuinely give something to somebody, i wouldn’t keep investing so much energy into getting them out into the world.

and this is where YOU come in. you have probably already done at least one thing that has shown me my music has a place. you’re reading this, so perhaps you followed me somewhere. maybe you shared a song with a friend, bought a single or an EP, joined my mailing list, remixed something i made, cried to one of my songs or sent me a message about how it made you feel. perhaps you supported my album campaign. perhaps you even bought a ticket to the album launch, even despite living far away.

and — here’s the time for my tears to shine — all of that means a fucking lot to me. not because it puts pressure on me to become something else, but because it gives me the courage to keep becoming more myself.

you are proof that there are people who want something honest. something quiet but meaningful. something that doesn’t need to shout in order to be felt.

and if my music gives you something you don’t get elsewhere, then i need to find more people like you. you might be a rare type of human being, but i’m starting to believe you’re part of a slightly bigger group than the one i’ve discovered so far.

often, when i see other artists perform, i come home feeling sad. not because they’ve done anything wrong, but because watching confident, theatrical and highly visual performances can make me feel like i’m not enough.

i don’t talk about this very often, but there were years when i worked as a private cleaner. i had studied marketing and was actively making music, but i fucking love cleaning — high five to my OCD — and i would rather have done that than gone back to an office.

i used to clean the home of a lovely older couple who treated me like a princess, which i was, of course. one evening, they came to see me perform with a guitarist. afterwards, they told me i was exactly the same person onstage as the person who cleaned their house. and i loved that. hopefully, they didn’t mean i was behaving like a cleaning lady while performing. i think they meant that i seemed natural. that i wasn’t pretending to be somebody else.

eight years later, the world has changed so much that i sometimes wonder whether being natural is still the right direction. music has become an audio-visual experience more than ever, and i wonder whether simply being myself onstage is still enough. sometimes it feels like a song needs to perform on social media before anyone even gives it the chance to be heard.

apparently, confidence depends on much more than whether i believe in myself. it depends on how much brainwork it takes just to get me onto the stage that night.

and nównøis already IS a persona. she’s the version of me who isn’t reduced to being a cleaning lady, a housewife, a marketing expert with financial issues, a tired mum, a black sheep, an embarrassing child or a misunderstood weirdo. she is still made of all those things, but she’s the person who keeps overcoming them.

she also believes restraint takes courage. that keeping your voice low can carry as much emotion as screaming or reaching for the highest note — sometimes more. we’ve become used to performances that tell us exactly when the emotional explosion is happening and when we’re supposed to clap. i’d rather leave some space. i don’t want to force the feeling out of you; i want to make room for those who recognise themselves in it.

so, here i am.

nównøis.

welcome to my world. <3

you are proof that i’m doing something worth continuing.

thank you for that.

and i truly hope i’ll see you at the album launch.

"seeking a deep conversation

not easy

i’m tired of not being heard

but now i see

you can’t take more than my all

take your lies too

let me scrape them out

breathe in

breathe out

be loud

see me

don’t question me

make me proud

infinite depth underneath

help me

pull me out"

all-in-one link to everything coming up: https://ffm.bio/nownois.OEM