Notes from the Last Few Days

A few notes on work and the world. Somewhere between music, reality, and things you can’t explain with a simple answer. About doubt—and why it all still makes sense.

I haven’t written anything on my Substack for a while.

Part of it is the work I’ve been doing – and still am – on a really beautiful Slovak film directed by Juro Šlauka, the director of Punk Never Ends!

I can’t say much about it yet, but it’s a film featuring the puppets from my childhood – Kuko, Raťafák Plachta, Drobček and others.

I’m really enjoying working on it. And on top of that, I’m doing something I’ve never done before – using synthesizers from the 80s and 90s.

Completely unexpectedly, I also got into cooking. Some of you might know that I went to a private hospitality school. I hated it back then. It was all about peeling potatoes – at least that’s how I remember it. Maybe the teachers showed us interesting recipes and techniques, but my head was somewhere else, deep in music. And when you’re a teenager, it’s really hard to focus on something you don’t naturally want to do, but have to.

I follow a few cooks on Facebook and I’ve been trying recipes that feel doable.

I even thought about helping out in an Italian restaurant for a while, just to learn how to make proper pizza. My last dough wasn’t great.

But somehow, I really started to enjoy it.

And honestly, if something really bad were to happen in the world – which sometimes feels closer than I’d like to admit, even though I still hope it won’t – cooking or working in a kitchen might actually be what keeps me going. I feel like in times like that, art would be pushed aside, and you wouldn’t be able to pay the bills with it anyway. That thought doesn’t leave me calm. From where I stand as an artist, the situation in the world feels pretty alarming.

When the war in Ukraine started, my first instinct was to leave. Go somewhere else – maybe Italy. Paolo would let us stay in his apartment and move back with his parents. Over time, we started to feel safe here again. But when I look at our prime minister and the way he acts, I see one thing – someone doing everything he can to secure impunity for himself and his people. Maybe he wouldn’t even mind if we got sanctioned by the EU and drifted closer to Russia.

I don’t want to talk about politics, but that’s honestly how it feels to me. The government just keeps pushing its own agenda at any cost, slowly breaking down our small, beautiful country – already poor and drained. In Prešov they’re building a new Ministry of Interior hospital, but there are already rumors that they’ll just finish the skeleton and leave it like that. I don’t know if it’s true, but the overall atmosphere feels pretty hopeless.

I’m also really sad about what’s happening in culture. Instead of fixing things, everything is being systematically dismantled. The old system definitely had its problems, but alongside them, a lot of things actually worked really well. For example, we wouldn’t be able to play concerts with KOMARA here if clubs and cultural organizations weren’t supported in some way. The same goes for my solo shows and workshops. Film music, and filmmaking in general in Slovakia.

But there’s not much I can really do about it. Sometimes people ask me why I don’t talk about this stuff on social media. The truth is, I tried a few times and it only brought negative reactions. Social media doesn’t really help anything. Everything is split into two camps. And even those who have already given up and say things like “they all stole before, and they’ll all steal again, I don’t care anymore” are, in a way, part of the problem. Indifference and inaction are also forms of action.

I’ve been to protests, even when I didn’t agree with everything. I usually leave when the protest songs start. I vote in every election. I talk to a few close friends. And that’s about all I can do. The opposition has to do its job, stay united, and actually have a plan.

I even got a message asking if I wanted to apply for support from Slovak public funds — that it would basically make me a collaborator with this government. Some people compare it to Stalinism.

These thoughts still come back to me sometimes, even after films like MIKI and ČERNÁK. For years, I dreamed of composing music for a mafia film based on real events. Maybe even a big detective story. I imagined how the music would sound in a cinema, maybe one day even on Netflix. I gave everything to those two films.

But the hate directed at me made me constantly remind myself of that dream out loud. When Netflix picks up one of those films, I have to convince myself — out loud — that I’m happy.

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Recently, when I bought another kettlebell and was trying more demanding exercises, I caught myself thinking something strange. For a moment, out of frustration, I found myself wishing that something in my arm would snap. That I wouldn’t be able to play anymore. Because the thing that gives me joy often brings problems too.

And then I stopped. I told myself no!

Creating and searching — that’s my purpose in life. I’m one of the luckiest people on this planet, and I need to stay healthy — for myself and for my family.

But what am I supposed to do when there are fewer and fewer concerts, films are struggling, clubs don’t have money, and ticket prices can’t realistically be 50 euros just to cover costs and pay me something?

I’ve been invited to the Music Academy of Liverpool and to an academy in Johannesburg, South Africa. They want me to give a masterclass on AI in music and play concerts with Jonathan Crossley.

To make this happen, I simply need support — for travel and living expenses. That’s just how it works. It’s a huge opportunity, but I have to apply for funding based on these invitation letters.

The only thing that really helps me stay mentally afloat is sport. Sometimes I train twice a day — I run in the morning and work out with my favorite kettlebells in the evening.

I’ll share some videos here if you’d like to try it. It’s great for functional strength and you can do it in a one-square-meter space. (If you want, just message me and I’ll explain how it all works.)

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I was even asked if I’m part of the “manosphere” or some kind of toxic masculinity. I had to look up what that even means.

Wikipedia: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Manosphere

I only have one answer to that.

While writing this blog, my laundry just finished, and in a moment I’m going to cook beef in a pressure cooker. I’ve been writing this text for almost two hours. So according to that theory, I guess I’m a weak male. A “real man” probably shouldn’t be doing these things.

I work out to stay healthy, to balance out my own bad habits — like when I have a few too many beers and a cigarette. But mostly, I do it for my mental health.

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I have to admit, I’m also feeling burned out. Maybe it’s just spring fatigue. I’m 42 now, and I’ve never felt it this intensely before. It’s like a strong jet lag, like when I came back from Los Angeles. And I still go to bed early, usually between 8:30 and 9:00 pm.

I’m trying not to read the news. I’ve realized it’s all just commentary on the current state of things — which can change by tomorrow — and I tend to experience it all very intensely.

I’ve been overloaded with podcasts. Listening while shopping, listening to English podcasts to improve my language, then podcasts about health, training, psychology, art…

I had to stop. Now I’m trying to just be. To focus on one thing at a time.

I don’t sit in front of my recording software for 9–10 hours straight anymore. I try to work in waves — 2–3 hours, then I go cook for a couple of hours, then back again for another 2–3.

I’ve been listening to short stories by Karel Čapek.

I also started writing things down again — with a pen on paper, or with a stylus on my iPad.

Even ChatGPT is starting to wear me out. I honestly feel like, as great as it is, it might also be making people dumber.

A journalist writes an article using ChatGPT, and then a reader puts the link into ChatGPT to get a summary. The machine is doing the work for both of them.

Strange, isn’t it?

And yet, we’re supposed to have more time now. But for what?

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I’d also like to share a misunderstanding that happened to me recently.

During my campaign for the album CALLS, I ran a crowdfunding campaign on Donio.sk. Doing a campaign as a musician today isn’t easy. You have to offer different rewards.

For example — if you offer a “just for support” option for 10 euros, you need 200 people to reach 2000 euros. You can also offer physical items, like a CD for 20 euros. But if you produce even just 50 copies, each one costs you around 5 euros, plus artwork, packaging, and shipping. You’re at roughly 9 euros in costs. So out of 20 euros, you’re left with 11.

That’s why I started making visual works.

I use a technique that suits me best — as someone who’s not a classically trained painter. I was inspired by my friend Rick Cox. I photograph objects, then process them digitally using different techniques, and print the final result on high-quality paper.

Besides smaller prints that I sell for around 100 euros, I also started creating larger pieces, which my friend, painter Peter Popelka, called “graphic artifacts.”

It’s quite a time-consuming process for me. I photograph brush strokes, edit them digitally, print them, and in some cases I also paint into them by hand. The final piece is mounted onto a PVC board, placed in a wooden frame, and finished with varnish.

I included these works in the Donio campaign. One of the pieces was sold — together with a limited-edition USB stick. It was a significant part of the support.

I personally delivered the artwork in Nové Mesto nad Váhom, at the Blue Note club, after a concert by Pat Mastelotto.

About three quarters of a year passed.

Last Friday, I received a message from the buyer on Facebook. He said it was hard for him to write, but he told me I had “cheated” him. That I had only given him a print of an original. He had it evaluated by a friend — a conservator in the US — who said its value was around 10 euros.

But the value of a work is not the same as the cost of its materials.

There’s one more thing I want to add.

Of course, I did make a mistake. I forgot to send him the USB with my full discography, which was part of the package.

For a long time, I kept apologizing to people for not sending it yet, because I didn’t really have a clear idea of how to make it. I didn’t want to just send a plain USB stick. I finally figured it out sometime in November — I got an idea. Then I left for the US, gave one to Rick Cox and I think one to Thomas Newman as well. And of course, I forgot to send it to him.

I apologized to the man and sent the USB immediately. I also included a book (On Music and Time) as an extra gift and wrote an apology inside.

I tried to explain that it’s a mixed technique and a digital print. That it’s an original piece by me, signed, and that only one exists. A lot of musicians today also create visual work — images, objects, artifacts. Warhol used screen printing, and Banksy works with stencils.

But he stood by his opinion.

I’m writing about this also because maybe people don’t realize that I do all of this on my own. I don’t have a team. I ship CDs and prints myself, I write blogs, record podcasts, compose music, plan concerts, prepare workshops, manage my website — and live a normal life on top of that.

Sometimes I forget things. When I get deeply into something, everything else goes aside. That’s how I work — in waves of inspiration.

It’s happened before. Usually people just write to me politely, asking if I might have forgotten. I reply, send what they ordered, and often include something extra.

After that message, I felt like destroying all the artworks and prints I’ve made. Like I was just creating bad energy. Something similar to that moment with the kettlebell…

Then I realized those pieces are out there — with my friends and listeners. In Japan, in the US, in Norway, in the Czech Republic. And they have value for them — my story in music.

The sentence that hit me the most was this: if I feel the world isn’t fair, maybe I should look at myself.

I’m writing about this because I don’t think it’s just about one misunderstanding. It’s also a reflection of the time we live in.

Instead of a simple question, there’s blame. Instead of trying to understand, there’s judgment.

We can’t communicate like this.

Maybe what’s really destroying us is something very simple.

A kind of blindness, deafness — and envy. That quiet satisfaction when something doesn’t work out for someone else. I’m not even talking about that one person specifically.

I understand where it comes from. From frustration. Pressure. The feeling that things aren’t working the way they should.

But if we keep going like this, it will eat us all.

I’m also thinking about what people often say about art — “they should get a real job.”

Art is hard work. It’s a job. Sometimes much harder than it looks from the outside.

Maybe it wouldn’t take that much to change things.

Less judging. Less moralizing. More asking. More trying to understand what we don’t see.

And to stop pulling each other down.

Despite all of this, I still feel the need to create. Music, images, things that might not make immediate sense — but I love working on them. That’s how I live.

Maybe that’s the only thing that really makes sense to do.

These are difficult times. We should be careful with how we treat each other.

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Over the past few days, I’ve released two new tracks.

Unamused — featuring my cat Kiki on the artwork. It’s one of ten tracks from my upcoming album:

Art Is Never Alone — using words by Czech philosopher Miroslav Petříček, created as part of a musical tribute for his 75th birthday:

Maybe that’s the point.

Art is never alone.

We are in it together — artists, listeners, viewers, readers.

And to be means to be together.

If you’d like to support me, you can buy my music, my visual works, or my books.
And if you’re based in Slovakia, you can also support my work through the 2% tax donation system for my civic association.

Thank you,

David