ДвадцатьDvadtsatʼ

I was seven or eight when I “made up” my first “song.” D minor, A major, G minor, A major — the simplest harmony there is, and it would have sunk without trace if my father hadn’t heard me plinking away at the piano just then.

He came running over and started playing it back, already with a melody on top — insisting, of course, that I had written it. In whatever he was feeling at that moment, I suppose that was true.

That’s how our first “collab” came about. It occurs to me now — strangely, there weren’t many of those. We both wrote a lot, but somehow mostly apart. The souls synced up later, when the two guitars came out.

Either way: now, thirty-three years after it started and twenty months after my father’s death, that first thing we made together has finally taken shape as a song.