Never Again is Now - A Reflection on the Song and Its Release

Today marks the release of "Never Again is Now," a song that has quietly grown inside me for a long time before finding its voice. It is a piece built from layered choir samples, including my own voice, designed not to shout or persuade, but to pause, to remember, and to ask.

The song was born from two pivotal encounters.

The first was a conversation in Berlin. A man stopped me and, without hesitation, urged me to visit the Topography of Terror museum. "We keep this memory alive," he said, "so that it never happens again. We have a message to the world: never again." Those words stayed with me. Not as a political slogan, but as a quiet responsibility.

The second encounter was at SuomiAreena in Pori, where I met Aleksi through a mutual friend. Aleksi had lived a life shaped by conflict — from the French Foreign Legion to volunteering in Ukraine. During a long conversation, he said something that I didn't fully grasp at the time, but which later settled deep inside me:

"You can feel it. That moment just before something happens. It doesn't scream. It whispers."

His words echoed experiences described by veterans from many wars — the feeling of a heavy stillness before a storm. Psychologists call it "collective unease," an undercurrent of tension that isn't inside individuals, but between them.

Lately, I've been reading "The Fourth Turning" by William Strauss and Neil Howe, which suggests that history moves not in a straight line but in cycles. They argue that we are now in a critical phase, when old systems weaken, trust erodes, and the future hangs in the balance. Whether or not one fully agrees with their theory, it's hard to deny that something in the atmosphere feels... fragile.

"Never Again is Now" is my attempt to sit inside that fragility — not to fix it, not to fight it, but to witness it. It's not a protest song. It's not a call to action. It is a space to breathe, to remember what has been lost before, and to quietly ask:

Can we recognize the signs in time?

As you listen, I invite you to not seek a clear meaning, but to allow the song to move like weather across your thoughts. To let it whisper, not shout. To feel whatever arises.

Thank you for being here.

Markus

Here you can listen to the song on Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/track/3osxVRB4SR1de4IgGMpq1i?si=0831a974400b47be