Discography

A duet with Gemma Isasi about the least epic thing in the world: an ordinary day done together. A note on the fridge that reads 'today's plan', the shopping at the corner store, and the idea that loving someone well is, mostly, the same old things — but together.

Sixth song with Gemma Isasi, the words and the voice hers: a love that burned in secret and left the moment she asked for the truth. Three winters on, what she's reaching for isn't him anymore, but the love she deserves to find.

A song I wrote for my father when he was no longer here to hear it. It isn't a goodbye. It's saying out loud what I didn't always say in time.

A Christmas song that actually tells a story: someone who, on Christmas Eve, works up the nerve to knock on the door of the person they love, not knowing if it'll open. Words and voice by Gemma Isasi; the music is mine.

Fourth song with Gemma Isasi, and the most present-day of them: it's about falling in love through a screen. A photo, a midnight kiss, and the doubt of whether the person on the other side feels the same.

Third song with Gemma Isasi, and the most naked of the three. The words and the voice are hers, and they're about living with anxiety. It isn't looking for comfort or solutions. Being listened to is enough.

The second song I've made with Gemma Isasi, and once again the words and the voice are hers. A love that only exists with your eyes closed, and a sea that's there to let it go.

This song isn't entirely mine: the words and the voice are Gemma Isasi's, a tribute to a sister who left far too soon. I put the music around her words.

A song for my mother. Deep down it's just a thank you, the kind that takes years to say out loud.

This isn't a song about disappearing, it's about becoming part of something that keeps existing. Here, dying isn't the opposite of going on.

The title says it already: something that burns but doesn't weigh anything. This is one of those songs where I try to explain why the gentlest thing is sometimes what stays the longest.

This isn't about missing someone who's far away — it's about still loving someone who can't call you back anymore. Here, eternal isn't a figure of speech.