November 30, 2025

Hi everyone,

I’m sitting here sorting my pills into the weekly box - one small compartments-and-routine kind of moment - and it felt like a good time to send another update. A week has passed since I left home, and even though there’s been a lot happening, most of it doesn’t feel like the sort of thing one needs to report on. Some things feel too private, others too ordinary. Still, there is a story in the sum of all those ordinary things, so I’ll try to trace it.

The flight from Berlin to Los Angeles went smoothly. I’d planned a three-hour layover in Newark, just enough time for immigration, stretching, and a reset. By the time I finally reached the place where I stayed in LA, I’d been awake for twenty-three hours. That kind of travel leaves you hollowed-out and slightly unreal. Monday became a day of rest - useful, because Tuesday was the recording session at Chad Wackerman’s studio.

On Monday evening Chad and I went to hear a jazz group at a place called Spaghettini. A smooth jazz restaurant gig, but with a twist: the guest for the night was Marcus Miller. That was special. Mitchel Forman, who played keyboards at my session the next day, was playing there too - so we actually met that night before we met in the studio the next day.

Tuesday morning we began recording: Chad on drums, Mitch on keys, Janek Gwizdala on bass, and me mostly "behind the glass" - producing more than playing. I did add touches here and there, but deliberately kept things loose so that unexpected accidents had room to happen. They did. Even the mistakes I made felt like sparks for something future - little glimpses of direction for my overdubs I will record in Berlin.

We worked on seven pieces over two days. Despite some technical delays, we recorded four of them in three and a half hours on day one. These musicians are fast, intuitive, elegant. I barely needed to say anything - only to say yes when one of them had an idea. Big thanks to my friend Gabriel Riccio, who engraved the music on extremely short notice - five hours together the Friday before I left, and we walked away with notation for the session.

This project still carries the working title Bella Musica, which I love - whimsical, emotional, direct. Except for one piece that goes back to 2011, all the compositions were written on a Clavinova at home, with my daughter sitting next to me or on my lap. These were lullaby-like, minimalist piano miniatures, fragile and repetitive - and then the band turned them into something surprisingly "anthemic". It moved me more than I expected.

On Wednesday we tracked the remaining pieces, including one tentatively called The Cynical Song - a hint maybe toward the emotional weather of recent months. It turned out beautifully. In the afternoon we overdubbed: drum intros, harmonic textures, Janek creating rhythm guitar parts on high-strung bass. By then I’d already catalogued the takes mentally, so it was easy to know which missing colours we still needed.

The recordings are now with Chad. He’ll organize everything, and when I return to LA in about twelve days we’ll continue from there.

Thanksgiving was slow and kind, spent with friends - traditional meal, much music listening, discovering things I’d never heard before. In the afternoon we assembled 100 special-edition CDs of Quit Being So Gray, originally a 2014 digital-only release. New master by Erik Emil Eskildsen. We sat together, folded, inserted, signed. A small ritual. This CD, and "Sky on the Ground" will be on sale at the Stick Men merch booth on this tour.

Friday morning I flew to Seattle - one of the most relaxed flights I can remember - and met Pat, his wife Deborah, and EP McRae, our sound engineer and road manager. Dinner ended up in a casino restaurant by accident, because the place we thought we’d picked turned out to be a food truck. These small travel detours always amuse me.

Saturday was the first Stick Men rehearsal. It was... difficult. We’d brought four new pieces, quite challenging ones, and the rhythms - including fast patterns in 13 - aren’t easy for anyone, myself included. We decided not to introduce all four pieces immediately, but to work through them gradually during soundchecks. With luck, the full set will unfold over the tour.

And now it’s Sunday morning. I’m portioning medication into the little compartments and thinking aloud to you. This isn’t a profound update, more like a travel log - fragments of days, airports, music, meals, mistakes, good people. Still, I meant it when I asked for questions last time. Interaction matters to me. Even silence is its own kind of partner, but it’s good to hear a voice occasionally - to know you’re there.

And here are a couple of questions: Should Bella Musica stay its name? Would you like to hear the lullaby-pieces solo?

Bye for now,

Markus

November 18, 2025

Hi everyone,

It’s finally time for another update. I’ve been meaning to write one almost every day since the last post, but the days were so full — with work, pressure, small crises, and a few good surprises — that it kept slipping further away. So here we are, and I’ll just go through things as they come to mind.

To begin with, the health situation has eased up. The big concern has thankfully been ruled out for now, which is a huge relief. The symptoms are still around and I’m getting treatment, but at least I can stay on the road and won’t have to cancel anything. That alone makes everything feel a bit lighter. I keep circling around the idea of doing these updates more regularly, maybe even as a kind of diary. I’m not sure if that would be interesting or just repetitive, but if you have thoughts — or questions you want me to answer in future updates — let me know.

Over the past weeks, music kept moving in surprising ways. The new album with Robert Rich, Incubation, has been doing extremely well — Bandcamp Top 10 territory — which, in my little universe, feels genuinely big. His audience is so much larger than mine that I’m grateful for every listener who finds their way to the work. And I love that record deeply. It was created during a pretty dark stretch: the cancelled summer tour, the long days in Oakland, and then that spontaneous, almost restorative visit to see Robert in Carmel. Somehow the music came out of all that, unexpected but very welcome.

And then there’s the other music I’ve been involved in, some with my name on the front, some not. For example, The Solina Record with Frankie Cofone — something we improvised at the end of a recording day earlier this year, with the Solina String Ensemble and all sorts of sounds coming together. It's being released as a Francis Cofone album featuring me. Another highlight is Sky on the Ground, my collaboration with Stefano Castagna. That one feels special in a very personal way, and it’s out on vinyl, CD, and even cassette.

I also want to say thank you to everyone who reached out after I mentioned depression in the previous update. That one word seems to open a lot of doors for people. I’m grateful you shared your stories with me — and reading them also showed me how different my situation looks from the outside. Even when people get things wrong, the perspective helps. Truly.

The last two weeks were incredibly productive thanks to my friend and engineer Erik Emil Eskildsen, who came to Berlin. We managed to push a lot across the finish line: more tracking for the Stick Men album, and a new project with Dave Bessell — around ten contemporary classical pieces. It’s music that sits comfortably in my language but in a form I haven’t worked with in a long time, so it felt refreshing. Erik also helped me record parts for Jean Philippe Rossi’s new project, Your Preferred Retailer, which features JP, Jon Poole, Troy Jones, and me. There are eleven songs, wonderfully quirky and full of surprises.

On top of that, I somehow ended up playing two local performances — which is rare for me. The first one was the 7-hour solo set at Pink You Festival. I thought I’d just set up some ambient textures and let them breathe, but instead I ended up actively playing for more than six and a half hours. It turned into this deep, immersive experience, helped enormously by Mirella’s lighting design. And yes, everything was recorded.

The second was another Pink You event with Mirella and Muep, this hyperactive, punk-energy pianist who’s somehow also incredibly sensitive in his listening. The acoustic piano wasn’t miked, my sound went through the PA, and it all merged beautifully in the room at Acker Stadt Palast. I’m glad to have connected with the people there — it feels like a place I’d like to return to.

Some of you asked about TU-NER. The live album with Pat Mastelotto and Trey Gunn is finally musically finished — it just needs mastering now. And honestly, it might be my favourite live record I’ve ever been part of. When we started this version of the band, especially including some King Crimson material, I wasn’t sure how it would sit. But it works — almost surprisingly well — and it feels fresh and meaningful to me. We’re now looking at cover art and putting together a small plan around it.

Looking ahead, I’ll fly to Los Angeles next week for the recording session I mentioned earlier. I have about twelve pieces floating in my mind, maybe more that haven’t made themselves known yet. They tend to appear at the very last moment, so I’m not worried. After that, Stick Men will meet in Seattle the day after Thanksgiving to rehearse, and then we start the West Coast tour in Vancouver. The dates are on stickmenband.com if you’re curious. I’ll be away until around December 19.

And yes, the GoFundMe campaign for the Touch Guitar book is still running. Your support has been incredibly helpful and truly encouraging. I’ve already added a new chapter and updated the campaign page a couple of times. Some friends asked me to keep it open while I continue working on the book, so that’s the plan. This book means a lot to me, and I’ll talk more about it in the next update.

For now, thank you for listening and for being here. Feel free to send me questions or ideas for future updates — I’d like to do this more regularly, and your prompts really help.

Thanks for everything.

Bye for now.

Markus

October 31, 2025

Guess I’m starting to get the hang of making these Facebook updates. This one’s a bit personal - it’s about the creative process and where I’m at right now: Bella Musica 

As some of you know, I try to invest in one major musical project for myself each year. Last year, that was the TRUCE 3 recording session with Fabio Trentini and Asaf Sirkis - a project that many of you have already heard (and if you haven’t, please do check it out).

This year has been slow and difficult in many ways - physically, emotionally, and creatively. I’ve been dealing with some health issues, depression, and long stretches of just… not being able to get out of bed. Touring was frustrating too - especially the canceled Stick Men tour in the summer. Without Tony, it became clear that the band just doesn’t quite have the status I thought it had; over half the audience returned their tickets. It was a tough blow.

So yes, there have been a lot of letdowns this year. But despite all that, I’ve decided to keep pushing forward. I’ve already bought my ticket to Los Angeles for a new recording session with Chad Wackerman, Mitchel Forman, and Janek Gwizdala. We’ll be recording in the last week of November - right before Thanksgiving in the U.S.

My intention this time was to write the music in advance - not just go into the studio and improvise like I’ve done for TRUCE or with projects like Anchor and Burden or centrozoon. I set myself a clear deadline: October 31st, 2025, to have demos and notated compositions ready.

Well, today is that day, and I haven’t reached my goal. I’m sitting here in my studio, surrounded by instruments - and I just have to admit that I didn’t make it.

That said, it’s not like I haven’t done anything. I actually have six recorded sketches - voice memos I made at the piano, talking and composing in real time. The titles make me smile:

“Half Baked”

“Another Idea”

“Slow Melody” (Parts 1 and 2)

“The Punch” (no idea where that came from!)

“The Cynical Song” (I have an idea where that one came from!)

and “Bella Musica” - Italian for beautiful music.

And that’s actually what I’m calling this project for now: Bella Musica.

Even though I let myself down in terms of the deadline, I’m still confident that in the coming weeks I’ll manage to turn these sketches into something more structured - pre-productions, demos, or notations that will help the band understand where I want to go.

Here’s what I know so far: I don’t want this to be another jazz-rock or prog-rock record, even though the musicians I’m working with are all masters of that. I’m imagining an album of ballads - slow, beautiful instrumentals with simple structures, unusual harmonies, cool rhythms, and melodies that feel universal, emotional, and timeless. The sketches I’ve recorded are all deeply melancholic - some of the most childishly whimsical and personal music I’ve ever written.

Once I get my little MIDI keyboard hooked up to the computer, I’ll start producing these ideas properly. And honestly, I’m curious if sharing this with you - right now, in this vulnerable stage - might help me stay motivated. Maybe I can draw some energy from you knowing about it.

So yes, two days in the studio are booked. It’s a serious investment - travel, accommodation, studio time, paying the musicians - all for music that, realistically, only a small number of people might ever buy. But I feel it’s important to keep investing in what I do, even if, on the surface, it looks like “failure”. (I do not think that's the case.)

At this point in my life, I know that the process is what matters. The act of creating something beautiful is always worth it. I already feel that I understand what this music wants to be. It’s in the air. I can hear it. I can feel it. I just haven’t managed to capture it yet in a form that I can share with others.

So please, wish me luck - send some good energy my way - and I’ll keep you updated on how Bella Musica evolves.

Thank you so much for listening, for your encouragement, and for being here. Talk soon - most likely about something completely different. 🙂 

Bye,

Markus

October 21, 2025

What the heck — here’s another little update from me.

I just spent the last few hours getting ready for my trip to Poland tomorrow. I’ll be meeting up with Pat Mastelotto and Trey Gunn — together we are Tu-Ner — for two concerts this weekend.

We’ll have a rehearsal on Thursday, then play in Katowice on Friday, and in Opole on Saturday. I’ll be back home on Monday.

The last few hours have been the usual pre-tour chaos: collecting my Touch Guitars® T8 and gear from the studio, checking every cable, adapter, and making sure the pedalboard still boots up (luckily, it does). Then carefully packing everything — instruments, cases, clothes, toiletries, medication, all the small but essential things. Five days away, five sets of underwear.

Tomorrow will be a long day: I have an important doctor’s appointment in the early morning, and right after that, I’ll have to rush to the airport to catch my flights. It’s always like this — the preparation, the anticipation — it takes a lot out of me. Once I’m on the road and things are moving, it usually feels fine. But until then, it’s hard.

That’s really all I can share tonight. Wish us luck for the rehearsals and the two shows.

I’ll try to send another update from the road.

Thanks for listening.

Markus

October 20, 2025

Maybe you’ve noticed that I’ve recently worked on three projects with the wonderful Andy Toomey. Here’s how that all started — it’s a great example of how chance and curiosity can lead to meaningful musical partnerships.

When I was on the road with Stick Men in early 2024, we passed through Jacksonville, Florida, and stayed there for a couple of nights. Andy, who had already worked with Jerry Marotta and Tony Levin, noticed that we were in town — and very cleverly booked us for a recording session.

He had prepared some lead sheets — mostly chords, time signatures, and bits of melody — and we recorded together. It felt good, though maybe a little constrained by the setup, and I could sense that Andy was still finding his footing as a producer. I decided to lend a hand with the post-production, and that became the first EP, Perseus Calling. Even then, I could tell Andy had something special: a strong voice, genuine intuition, and a kind of musical courage that I really admire.

Fast-forward to August 2024, when Andy invited me again — this time to Scott Petito Productions/ NRS Recording in Saugerties, NY together with drummer Zachary Alford. We recorded a new EP called Masterpiece which was about 95% improvised. The pieces grew out of long drones and textures that eventually turned into what I’d call “drone songs.” Andy added his vocals the next day, and Fabio Trentini mixed the record (as he also did for Perseus Calling).

Then, in May 2025, Andy suggested recording in Berlin. I immediately thought of Guy Sternberg’s LowSwing recording studio where I had already worked twice that year. It turned out to be the perfect place. Andy flew over, and we brought in Shawn Crowder (Sungazer) on drums and Bernhard Wöstheinrich on keys, synths, and all sorts of sonic craziness.

This time we composed the music live in the studio, section by section — completely intuitive. We recorded seven songs in a single day, then Andy wrote the lyrics overnight and recorded them the next morning. I also added layers of piano, Wurlitzer, Mellotron, and synthesizers, in addition to my Touch Guitars® parts.

The result is the new full-length album Crank — a vibrant, energetic indie rock record with a touch of prog, full of adventurous time signatures (the opening track is in 11, but you wouldn’t even notice). Everything came together with a wonderful sense of flow. Fabio Trentini mixed this one too, beautifully tying together all the sonic details.

I’m incredibly proud of how Crank turned out, and of Andy’s evolution as a quick, intuitive, and inspiring musician. It’s been an honor to help him shape these ideas and bring them to life.

Thanks for reading and listening — this isn’t meant as an ad, but as a little window into how these collaborations actually unfold. Music continues to surprise me every day.

Markus

October 17, 2025

Thank you for all the responses to my recent question for the Facebook community. 

So here is my first written update, something I’m going to try to do regularly, and it’s about Sky on the Ground, which is being released today. I wanted to share some background on how this album came to life, because it’s a particularly interesting project.

After my earlier collaboration with Stefano Castagna, Sea of Hopeless Angels, which I consider a deeply successful artistic statement, we wanted to create a follow-up that would feel different yet still carry our shared identity. On Sea of Hopeless Angels, Stefano used his production and arrangement magic to build pieces around my live improvisations — that album is purely instrumental, and I remain very proud of it.

For Sky on the Ground, we wanted to preserve that creative chemistry but take it somewhere new. This time, I began by going through my personal recording archives — spanning almost thirty years, from as early as 1998 to this year — and selected performances that had remained unused but still resonated with me. I sent them to Stefano, who at first didn’t quite know what to do with them and was rather skeptical. But only a few days later, he surprised me with a beautiful sketch: he had combined my recordings with his bass, programming, and keyboards, and the result immediately showed promise.

I remember one particular soundscape that I had originally created during an improvisation with Berlin-based drummer Merlin Ettore. I isolated just my soundscape from that session and listened to it one night while I was very sick, lying in bed. Suddenly, I heard a melody emerging from the texture — something that wanted to come out. I hummed the melody, wrote down a few words, and recorded a rough vocal demo straight into my laptop microphone. That moment sparked the decision for both Stefano and me to include vocals on the album — not in a traditional “singer-songwriter” sense, but as expressive, processed voices shaped by vocoders and Auto-Tune.

Adding lyrics and voice turned out to be a wonderful decision. It gave the music a fresh sense of energy and light. Compared to my other projects, Sky on the Ground is harmonically more direct and uplifting — even “happy” at times — while still being compositionally intricate. Some of the vocal pieces have quite complex rhythmic structures and harmonic turns, but the songs were all built around the words, rather than the other way around.

The album also includes purely instrumental pieces, some based on archival material, others on new recordings I made specifically for this project. In addition to my usual electronic textures, I played harmonium, glockenspiel, and even acoustic guitars — both nylon- and steel-string. These acoustic layers added warmth and helped shape the album’s distinctive sound world.

Listening to the finished record, I often forget that I’m one of its creators — it feels like something that simply exists, which is always the best sign. For me, Sky on the Ground has been one of the musical highlights of my year.

We’re releasing it on vinyl, CD, and cassette, all available via Bandcamp. Unfortunately, we still don’t have a reliable way to ship physical items to the U.S., but that means our European and international listeners (outside the U.S.) have a great opportunity to order and support us directly.

When Stefano and I met earlier this year to mix the album, I was sick again — bedridden for two of our four studio days — and I think that combination of struggle and focus contributed to the emotional clarity and intensity of the final result.

Early on, Stefano mentioned My Life in the Bush of Ghosts as an inspiration, while I thought of Brian Eno’s Another Day on Earth. Both of those records explore the human voice in an abstract, processed way — and that resonated deeply with our approach. The guiding idea for this project, which we started in September 2024, was magical realism: to create a sonic equivalent of that aesthetic found in literature and film — where the extraordinary and the ordinary coexist seamlessly.

I hope when you listen, you can feel some of that magic. Thank you for listening — and for being part of this journey.

Markus