BACK IN 2013
A Story of Sacrifice and Triumph: The Path to Musical Freedom
Since as young as I can remember, I always wanted the acknowledgment that truly talented artists possessed. At seven, watching music on TV hit me like a revelation: That was me. But my family? Not a single musician among them. My dad, bless him, helped me learn the basics online, and soon my desire for recognition grew as strong as my catalog of compositions. So, I decided to work hard and build perseverance. I always felt like winners had something to prove—to the world, to themselves, and to others. My self-improvement as a child was intimidating; nobody else was as obsessed at such a young age.
My strong focus on persistence gave me such self-motivation that, over time, I skipped a year in my theory class and three years in my piano class. My teachers understood that my journey was a long-term commitment, but almost every other musician tried to kill my creativity and taste for experimentation in my art. The fear of regret and wasted time pushed me too far, to the point where I was homeschooled and lost balance. My hair grew long, and the artistic sacrifice became painful, affecting other aspects of my life. I started taking private guitar lessons and spent countless hours in lessons while, in parallel, I composed rock, blues, jazz, metal, and classical music. Fragments of The Sea earned me €800 as a prize from juries in my music school.
At just 11, I entered a piano contest at a church and won first prize, while playing electric guitar on numerous Belgian stages with old friends. But as I became a teenager and took singing lessons, my need for validation and approval grew even bigger. I could barely sleep. We organized a charitable concert in a hall to raise thousands of euros for cancer care and health. As I completed the Abyssal Sonata at the dawn of adolescence, my sense of inadequacy turned into an urge to be noticed and heard. My ambitions couldn’t match reality. My voice changed with puberty, and I couldn’t sing anymore, but my emotional investment in music was too strong. So, I decided to pour even more time and effort into my art. I couldn’t stand feeling invisible and unappreciated. While all my friends went out to have fun, I worked, sublimating most of my personal desires into music. Hope kept me going. When they partied, I spent seven hours a day at the keyboard, mastering tedious virtuosic piano techniques. It was simply my duty.
I overcame my unfinished potential by playing Prokofiev’s Second Piano Concerto with an orchestra and winning the Golden Medal. Armed with diplomas in theory and piano—both marked with the highest distinction—I took a step back from classical music. I focused on my upcoming album, leaving the anguish behind. My megalomanic tendencies lingered, though—a fire that sometimes angered me. Delusions of grandeur? Of course. But I never lived in delusion. I knew my worth. I knew I was meant for success and acknowledgment. I take pride in my self-reliance, though I made many mistakes growing up. After investing time in other disciplines and taking fitness and my self-image seriously, a new obsession surfaced: helping other musicians achieve musical freedom—the ability to combine the rigid classical background of interpretation and musicality with the fluidity of improvisation and the theoretical tools I learned from my guitar teacher. I’m in control of what I play or sing, when I want, and where I want. There are no limits. I now dedicate my time to helping students learn music in a hybrid way. You can’t beat adaptability and musical independence. I enjoy connecting with other musicians, and even if they aren’t my students, they often help my mission by joining our affiliate marketing program, guiding aspiring artists to rebellious success.
But to be honest, there’s more to why I teach. Often, a few sweethearts who hear my album-in-progress give me feedback, telling me how they believe in me. They understand the time and suffering it took to reach this level. But most importantly, they respect me—which is what any passionate musician deserves.
However, there’s a dark side to this journey: the music industry is inherently evil. My experience in the studio, recording, producing, mixing, and mastering earned me hours of demos for pop, hip-hop, soul, funk, rock songs, and ballads, but I understood that every famous artist has sold their soul to the propaganda, and I refuse to sell mine for fame. My mission is now clear. The only way to beat the system without succumbing to such degeneration is through the support of my fans. A musician is nothing without the love and attention of others, and I believe that by giving everything I can to help them, they will help me build a future that matches our mutual ambitions.
Mario Giovanelli.
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