When the lights went on, Bias was always elsewhere (like roaches).
In the years he experienced several musical incarnations (never as a roach), but in every life he lived he loved the magic which lies in the sound of tiny little music boxes or dreadful automatic instruments, of grotesque reed organs, of story-telling field recordings and human speech, of pure sine tones and infinite reverberations.
Suddenly he fell in love with the space between notes, la musique d’ameublement (what does really matter? A-B-A-B’-C?)
As in theatre, as in music (he’s the other half of Jackeyed) he’s always been fascinated by the power of the magic behind the scenes. That’s the place where he belongs.
“Beauty lies in the eyes of another’s dream”.
But now, maybe, the face and the mask do coincide. Maybe.