BIOGRAPHY: Cinerex

Someone who listens to a song on the radio, will hardly think about all the effort that went into making it. It can take months, years, even decades before a musician reaches the point that he feels comfortable enough to let go and allow mankind to base an entire opinion on a three minute track. Music is all about enjoying the moment, indulging in emotion, so why should we even care about what happened before the audience got involved? There's nothing sexy about long studio nights, musicians quarrelling about detail and girlfriends nagging about chronic neglect. Who cares about stretch marks when there's new life to celebrate, right?

But sometimes, the stretch marks do matter. Because occasionally, in the greater scheme of things, the present is a gift from the past. A moment doesn't just happen, and neither does a song. It's a summary of all things preceding that one precious time frame when poetic logic takes over. Something we might have been ignoring for a long time, unexpectedly turns out to be of great importance. Like a stubborn anthem playing hard to get. All of a sudden, there it is and all the pieces just fit. The unlikely becomes apparent and the obvious simply comes knocking at the door. It's what happens when emotions are left to their own devices, and it's magically odd.

It's called momentum.

What if the art of producing a good song lies in the ability to face the music? To dare to sever chords, to hold on to a very specific level of determination despite all odds. It takes a hell of a lot of courage to chalk things down to raw belief. But then again, isn't that what it's about? That ultimate leap of faith? Relying on the end result to speak for itself as if questioning it would somehow strip it of its own dignity?

Making any kind of music is about clearing the air for potential and believing in it so passionately that it becomes a truth. A truth that might be often times modified. Open for perpetual debate. Once the sentence is written, you sentence yourself to starting from scratch. You start all over again, by stripping off the outside layers of the inner chaos and then you look long and hard at what spontaneously pops up. And eventually what's left when you silence the surrounding noise is called... a song.

Ask any artist if this is true, you'll see the eyes brighten. Ask Kevin Ross if this is how he sees it, he'll show you the album that proves precisely this point.

Kevin Ross is Cinerex. The drummer turned producer turned solo. Never mind what was, or what could have been, what matters is "Edges". The inner edges, the outer layers, the fine lines that stand out and the subtle innuendo's that add sparks.

"Edges" was a much a destination as a journey for Kevin Ross. It's past, present and future, and that's exactly how it sounds. It's the result of searching for something that had always been there, playfully waiting for the right time to be admired. It's an adventure as much as it is a homecoming. It carries a rare kind of honesty. The edges are everywhere and nowhere, which makes it fun to wander and absorb the scenery. Allow yourself to be thrilled by its paradoxes and frailty. It takes great courage to investigate the edges of the unknown, it takes guts to share one's findings with the world.