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Q1 — You've lived across several cultures and continents. How has that shaped your identity as an artist?

A: Growing up between cultures is very different from spending your whole life in one place. I'm Dutch-Indonesian, born in Colombia, raised in the United States and the Netherlands, and now based in Singapore. That layered background shaped how I see identity, and I probably never really fit in anywhere quite as much as a local.

Living across cultures taught me that reality isn't experienced in quite the same way by everyone. People grow up within different systems of meaning, values and assumptions, yet beneath those differences there is always a shared human thread.

That perspective influences my music. I'm comfortable with contrast, blending influences and moving between genres, but I'm ultimately more interested in what connects people than what separates them.

Q2 — You’ve mentioned that personal loss changed your direction in life. What did it teach you?

A: Losing two of my closest friends at nineteen forced me to confront questions I hadn't expected to face so early: mortality, meaning and how to live a life that feels authentic.

I don't think those questions ever have final answers, but they changed the way I approached life. They led me to study psychology, to question many of the assumptions I had inherited, and to become more intentional about how I choose to live.

Looking back, that experience shaped not only my music, but also the work I chose to pursue, the conversations I value and the person I've tried to become.

Q3 — Amsterdam's underground dance culture clearly left a mark on you. What made it so special?

A: In the 1990s, places like Mazzo and Trance Buddha were far more than clubs. They were communities built around music, openness and shared experience. For me, they revealed that music could become something much larger than entertainment—it could create moments of genuine connection, transcendence and collective joy.

Those experiences eventually inspired me to DJ and produce electronic music.

With time, I also came to realise that while peak experiences can open doors, lasting growth comes from integrating what we discover into everyday life. That understanding has influenced both my music and the way I approach life.

Q4 — How did your journey into music production begin?

A: It started simply with wanting to find the music I'd heard at parties. That curiosity eventually led me to Groove Connection in Amsterdam, where I spent countless hours discovering new records, learning from DJs and immersing myself in electronic music culture.

From there I began DJing, producing my own music and later founded Cytopia.org, one of the early online labels and distributors dedicated to Goa trance. I was fortunate to have music released by several labels and to become part of an international community of artists and producers.

As life evolved, so did my music. Electronic production gradually became more melodic and introspective, while my lifelong relationship with the guitar led me back to songwriting. Today those two creative paths continue side by side under my two artist projects.

Q5 — Have you ever considered leaving your professional career to pursue music full time?

A: Many times.

There are moments when I wonder what it would be like to devote myself entirely to music. The idea is certainly appealing. But I've also come to realise that making music my sole livelihood would inevitably change my relationship with it.

When your survival depends on your art, it's difficult not to feel pressure to create what is commercially successful rather than what feels most honest. One of the greatest privileges of my career at Elsevier is that it allows me to approach music with complete creative freedom. I never have to ask whether a song will generate enough streams or appeal to an algorithm before deciding to make it.

At the same time, I find genuine meaning in my professional work. For more than two decades I've had the opportunity to collaborate with talented colleagues and work alongside universities, governments and research organisations to help strengthen research and innovation. Contributing to something larger than myself gives me a strong sense of purpose and continually exposes me to intelligent, thoughtful people.

The two worlds challenge different parts of me. My professional life engages my intellect, while music allows me to explore emotion, introspection and creativity. Although balancing both isn't always easy, I've come to believe that each makes the other richer.

Perhaps one day that balance will change. For now, I feel fortunate that I don't have to choose.

Q6 — Visual storytelling has become part of your work as well. How does that fit in?

A: Music videos began as an experiment, but advances in AI have opened creative possibilities that simply didn't exist a few years ago. They allow me to create visual worlds that complement the emotional atmosphere of the music.

I've always enjoyed storytelling, whether through writing, photography or music, so combining those forms feels like a natural extension of the creative process.

Q7 — You often speak about making music for yourself. Does that mean you don't care whether people listen?

A: Not at all. Like most artists, I hope my music finds an audience. After investing so much time, emotion and care into creating something, it's only natural to want it to be heard. I won't pretend I'm indifferent when a release reaches very few listeners or when opportunities to perform live don't materialise. Of course I would love to share these songs with more people.

The distinction, for me, is when the audience enters the process.

When I'm writing or producing, I try to follow Rick Rubin's philosophy of creating work that feels honest to me rather than trying to predict what will be popular. If I start thinking about algorithms, streaming numbers or what people expect too early, I quickly lose the curiosity and authenticity that made me want to create in the first place.

Once the music is finished, however, I absolutely hope it connects with others. Music has always been about communication as much as expression. If a song resonates with someone, helps them through a difficult time, or simply becomes part of their life in some small way, that's incredibly meaningful to me.

So yes, I want my music to be heard. I simply don't want the pursuit of an audience to determine what I create.