There is a fine line between genius and madness

The apartment here in Berlin is amazing in its own depravity. The toilet and heater is broke, fortunately though we still have a few warm months left. The ceiling sets off four meters from the floor gives us a sense of creative freedom.

The musician is living the life of the nomad. In our case we got a laptop each and a pair of blazers. The music has completely ruined us, and our expensive jeans have been patched too many times.

At the moment we are mixing Rachmaninoff vodka with synthetic orange juice from Lidl, while we are closing your eyes trying to imagine a Harvey Wallbanger cocktail.

Berlin has given us inspiration for something greater. We have a separate hard drive in the apartment filled with songs for the coming album. And at the moment the music is overshadowing everything else that could have priority in our pitiful lives.

I wouldn’t argue against anyone that would claim that it is complete madness to spend your last set of euro on an expensive blazer or a microphone preamp instead of having proper food to eat. But as someone said in the past, there is a fine line between madness and genius.