My story is simple, really.

I was born in a small arctic town.

Back in the sixties.

My father was a captain at sea, while my mom was at home looking after me and my two brothers.

I had a fairly pleasant childhood, though I found it a bit empty and lonely at times.

So when I reached my teens, my main ambition was to get away.

And become someone else.

But I never left this place.

In fact, I still live only a stone’s throw from the red brick building where I was born.

Every time I tried to get away, some unexpected obstacle would appear, and prevent me from going anywhere.

Almost mysteriously, like at the hand of some invisible ghost.

The urge to dream up a new existence wasn’t because the one I had was unbearable in any way.

It was just that my adolescent life seemed to provide the perfect canvas to create something new upon.

So at 18, I decided that the best thing would be to leave and start again somewhere else. 

I attempted to move south, to the big city.

It seemed like a place of opportunities.

I got myself a job as a mailman, and spent most of the money I earned on buying records, and going out to see bands play live in dark clubs.

But I soon got caught in a loop, and after a few months I couldn’t get up in the morning, and just stopped turning up to work.

Needless to say, I was fired, and money soon ran out.

I decided it was the wrong city for me, and returned to my hometown.

Back home, I got myself a new job as a salesman at a local records store.

We were selling 12-inch dance singles to DJ’s, and progressive rock LP’s to middle-aged men.

And cassette tapes with mainstream eighties pop to teenagers.

It was a job I quite enjoyed.

After all, music was my main passion at the time.

But because I bought so many records for myself, I still didn’t earn much money.

One month, when I went to pick up my paycheque, an amused manager told me that I actually owned HIM money, due to the amount of records I’d picked out for myself.

So I left his office as broke as I entered.

Even if life was pretty good, due to the job, and the fact that I was in a lovely relationship with a new girlfriend, I still didn’t think the setup was right for me.

So I made new plans.

This time, I set my eyes on Berlin.

It seemed to be the European city where the most interesting music were made at the time, and an interesting place to live due to being this strange western island situated deep inside the Eastern Bloc.

This was before the wall fell.

So I quit my job and sold most of my stuff, and told my girlfriend that I needed some space, and that we would have to see where things headed.

She agreed.

But just when I was about to leave, she told me that she was pregnant.

So I stayed.

As any decent man would.