Whether it be anxiety, terror, or paralyzing trauma, instinct will tell you to run when faced with fear. So why is it that, after all these years making music under the name Autumns Eyes, I still use those emotions to motivate this creepy creative vessel of mine? I’m sure any psychologist could have a field day diving deep into the recesses of my brain to examine the why’s and how’s, but the simple fact remains: I enjoy the feeling of being scared. Almost like adrenaline junkies seek out skydiving or shark diving to test the limits of their excitement, I find fear as motivating as any ambitious endeavor in life. Ever since I was a child, I’ve had a fascination with fear and how it seemed to choke the life out of my body whenever I was confronted with it. From horror movies to more realistic encounters as I grew older, the rush of feeling scared and afraid has always been a companion of mine that I’ve learned to embrace over time.
As a young boy obsessed with horror movies, many nights were spent past my bedtime, staying up to watch whatever horror movies were playing on television at the time. It could range from one of the many Nightmare on Elm Street sequels to something more obscure, like a foreign horror movie on one of the Spanish channels. Whatever it was, I always knew it was a bad idea to watch, as it would most certainly result in me staying up all night with thoughts racing around my head, only compounding the terror building within my bones. Yet I still sought this out, after years of nightmares and traumatic experiences with horror movies. I can even remember a vivid memory from my early teens when I watched the movie Candyman with my sister and her husband, where he later locked me in the bathroom after saying “Candyman” into the mirror five times before shutting off the light and locking me in. To this day, I cannot get rid of that hook-handed bastard who always finds a way into my nightmares, all these years later.
Even with more realistic encounters, you’ll find me embracing the dread as much as possible. Losing a friend, a pet, or a family member—all have their own unique type of pain that follows. While I witnessed others trying to run from that trauma, I always faced it head-on. I felt the best way to process such agony was to embrace it. While it was always an extremely difficult exercise, I often found it a better path to healing and acceptance. I’ve also contemplated the alternative—hiding from it—and while it does seem appealing to get lost in a rabbit hole that uses ignorance to influence submission, that always felt counterintuitive to what I was trying to achieve. I didn’t want to be engulfed in this feeling of grief forever; I wanted to escape it in a way that left me stronger than I was before I encountered it. So, with each experience, I was able to grow and learn from what I went through, which in turn, hopefully, made me more capable of handling such inevitable tragedies in the future.
With these moments as building blocks for a foundation in fear, I use them to motivate the music I make. When I sit down to write a song, melodies flow out like a faucet, and with them comes a wave of memories. Sometimes a certain melody will resurrect memories that haven’t seen the light of day in decades. Other times, it’s something fresh in my mind that needs attention—a thought that digs away at my brain like an infection, where a specific melody acts as the only remedy. When you listen to my music, you’ll notice a familiar sound. There are walls of distorted guitars, layers of ambient keyboards, and dramatic vocals that fuse together as a reflection of my own personal memories. You’ll hear those horror movies I grew up watching late at night as a kid, you’ll hear the pain I endured through all the tragedies I experienced, and you’ll hear the resilience bestowed upon me from those moments of deep despair. At that moment, the songs have done their job as my own personal therapist and are now out in the world for others to find—perhaps even those who share the same experience and find solace in these creations the same way I did while creating them.
