Nothing makes sense to me. Or rather, almost nothing. Greed. War. Hate. Ignorance. Poverty (be it spiritual or material). We are living in very strange times. Non-sensical times. One of the very few things that has ever made sense to me is music. Music has order, purpose, depth, intelligence… and love. Love is what makes music make sense to me. The love of discipline. The love of sound. The love of vibration. The love of connection. The love of order. The love of peace. Growing up, I saw chaos all around me, inside and outside my home. The way I dealt with this chaos was through music. As far back as I can remember, I was finding ways to make objects speak to me. First, it was pots and pans. Then, toy drums. And then real drums. The chaos that the adult world was injecting into my soul only had one antidote: rhythm. A strong consistent beat would save me. I always knew this. It still saves me, every single day. I have always found spaces to create music. Bedrooms, living rooms, bathrooms, closets. With the help of some incredible people, I built a studio last year. A gorgeous, light-filled cathedral of a studio. I am very, very lucky. I finally have a space where I can fully escape the chaos. Four decades after the pots and pans, I am still trying to figure out how best to keep that beat strong and consistent. This album is the result of years, and years, and years of work. Practice, frustration, desperation, hope, clarity, obfuscation, stubbornness. I’ve been writing songs since I was a teenager. Writing a song is a journey. Here are 10 journeys that, at some point, sounded complete. Come with me. Allow me to get closer to you, to share my joy through music. Holding hands, together we will defeat the chaos. With love and gratitude, Beto