The Old Man in the Carousel
We are bound to nostalgia like an inescapable shadow. Are the colors we saw as children still as vivid today? Do our senses still experience the world with the same raw intensity as they did then?
In the fifth track of the reconstruction of my seventeen-year-old self’s album, I decided to immerse myself in this concept. Unlike previous songs characterized by satire, irony, or masks, this piece maintains a pure epic quality—a round-trip journey into the depths of memory.
Truth be told, this fifth track was originally something entirely different. It was an extremely simple, bright song, with a bassline that repeated obsessively, like a "musical whack-a-mole." I remember being mocked by my peers at the conservatory for that monotony.
Now, as an adult more than fifteen years later, recreating that song is not just difficult—it is nearly impossible. I possess far deeper insight now; my way of perceiving and creating has changed. Above all, I am far removed from those days when I lived in a "safe zone," enjoying the grace of an innocent gaze. Today, I can no longer be simply dazzled by the vibrant colors of a flower. However, by staring at that flower and finding the death contained within it, I can feel the momentary pulse of life.
Amidst these reflections, I realized I could not write a shallow song about happiness. Yet, I felt no desire to satirize it either. This time, there was nothing to ridicule; if anything, I felt a strong envy toward my younger self. Thus, I decided to harness that innocent energy and frame it through a new, matured perspective.
The keynote of this song is nostalgia. It does not deny what once existed, but since one cannot dwell in the past, it momentarily snaps back to the present.
2005, Buenos Aires, Argentina. Captured via webcam in my room.
And so, this song was titled "The Old Man in the Carousel." The old man reminisces vividly, traveling through his memories and feeling them against his skin. But the carousel does not stop. Because neither time nor life ever stands still.
The beginning of the track is sparse, drifting with the image of a man on a carousel while offering a few hints that invite nostalgia. For instance, within the first few seconds, a kind of "chime" is heard. It sounds as if someone is knocking at a door. The sound rings again a few seconds later. I intentionally gave this sound an ambiguity: it is a symbol of a vibrant home from a time when people gathered and guests were expected. Yet, on the other hand, there is no one to answer. It is a void—a metaphor for something that once existed but will never exist again.
When the carousel becomes predictable and takes on the appearance of a loop, the deepest part of the song begins. There, the carousel fades from view, and memory breathes again. This is the moment when an acoustic piano solo starts.
That journey continues for a minute or two, with the piano intervening occasionally. But nothing lasts forever. As I mentioned before, the carousel keeps turning. The song returns to its opening form, ending with the figure of the old man living and reminiscing on that carousel. How long has he been sitting there? Or perhaps, has his entire life always been there?