It was the early ’90s, and I was sitting at a piano during my recital in Potenza. The sheet music in front of me had a story of its own.

A few months earlier…

My teacher (I believe her name was Marialucia, or something like that) had photocopied the score onto a simple A4 sheet. I would fold it in four to carry it home in my backpack. Week after week, the paper became increasingly flexible from all the folding and unfolding.

“Vincenzo, you should glue it onto cardboard” – she’d tell me.
“Yes, teacher” – I’d reply.
Next lesson: “Vincenzo, you still haven’t glued it?”
“Tomorrow, teacher, I promise!”

Of course, I never did. So there I was at the recital, with my worn-out, flimsy sheet of paper propped up on the piano. Everything was going according to plan until…

Halfway through the piece, the sheet gave up and folded onto itself.

In that moment of pure panic, I had two choices: stop or… improvise.

I chose the latter.

My fingers started creating melodies that weren’t written anywhere. I was making it up completely, navigating by ear and instinct alone. When I finished and looked up, people were applauding, and no one had noticed the “unexpected”. My teacher gave me a puzzled look, but something special had happened. I had discovered my voice.

That day, I learned that errors aren’t interruptions of the creative process: they ARE the creative process. When everything goes according to plan, we’re just executing. When things break, we create.

What if that “mistake” was actually an invitation to something new?

Exactly in March 2012, I dove into synthwave when it didn’t even have a name yet. I plunged headfirst into the pulsating community that was emerging at that moment. I was a part of it, part of a movement without even realizing it, maybe making the mistake of creating music for nostalgics? (this is what some people told me)

Today marks 13 years since I published my first EP, “Voyage”, on Soundcloud before it was discovered by Future City Records. I have made many, many mistakes. This remains at the heart of my creative process. Some of my best tracks started as accidents: a wrong chord that suddenly felt right, a synth preset that glitched into something beautiful, a drum pattern that stumbled into an unexpected groove.

I’ve come to believe that perfection is overrated. Perfection is static. Errors are dynamic and push us into uncharted territories, especially since we then have to find ways to fix them.

This is true in life as well. How many beautiful experiences come from something going “wrong”? The missed train that led to a chance encounter. The wrong turn that revealed a breathtaking view. The job rejection that pushed you toward your true calling.

So go ahead and make mistakes! When things don’t go according to plan, it’s an opportunity to improvise. Let your music sheets fold.

As for me, I’ll keep chasing beautiful errors wherever I find them. Because if that 8-year-old boy had glued the sheet music onto cardboard, things might have taken a different path.