COLLIDER PROJECT
BEHIND THE SONGS
No fixed genre. No throwaway words.
The music is allowed to change.
The words still have to matter.
Collider Project songs move through relationships, politics, mortality, loss, insecurity, humour, anger, uncertainty and thoughts about the world we’re living in, the future we’re creating and what we leave behind.
Some begin with something Christian has experienced. Some come from observing somebody else. Others are imagined through empathy.
Which is which is deliberately left unanswered.
A song should leave enough room for the listener to bring something of themselves to it.
But that doesn’t mean the words are casual.
Quite the opposite.
Christian has little interest in a line that exists simply because it rhymes or conveniently fills the space before the chorus. If a lyric survives into the finished song, it should be there for a reason.
Sometimes that reason is immediately apparent.
Sometimes it only becomes clear after several listens.
And hopefully the listener finds meanings in the words that weren’t consciously put there at all, but which connect with them personally anyway.
That’s one of the most beautiful things about lyrics and poetry.
That’s part of what songs are for.
With Collider Project, the opening lines don’t always tell you where a song is going. An idea can change, widen or reveal itself as the song unfolds.
And the music often develops with it. Arrangements build, instruments enter and disappear, dynamics shift and the emotional weight of a song can change considerably between its beginning and its end.
Which is one reason the songs deserve to be heard all the way through.
Something personal can widen into something political. An apparently straightforward observation can become a much bigger question. Humour can turn uncomfortable. Something uplifting can reveal another meaning underneath.
Irony, sarcasm and dark humour have their place alongside sincerity, tenderness and empathy.
Sometimes the words are poetic.
Sometimes they’re deliberately blunt.
And the music doesn’t necessarily tell the listener how to feel about them.
A serious idea doesn’t require sombre music. A bright melody can carry an uncomfortable thought. Something melodic and immediate can conceal anger, while a song about loss can still contain warmth and beauty.
The contrast is often where the song lives.
A serious idea doesn’t require sombre music. A bright melody can carry an uncomfortable thought. That contrast can become part of the song.
The same freedom applies musically.
A lyric doesn’t have to be squeezed into a predetermined Collider Project sound. If one song needs sparse piano, another a bass-driven groove and another something louder, stranger or darker, that’s where they go.
The songs aren’t connected by genre.
They’re connected by a musical personality.
And each has its own reason to exist.
Everybody’s Right confronts certainty, division and the conviction that everyone else must be wrong.
No Justice looks at the extraordinary brevity of a human life.
Time Wasting Time approaches that passing of time from another direction.
Only For You encourages people to become the best version of themselves.
Beautiful emerged from darkness and fear — and the possibility that something beautiful can still come from them.
Go There grew from loss.
Other songs tell different stories.
Some are serious. Some are lighter. Some contain humour. Some ask questions without pretending to know the answers.
And sometimes the music invites you in before the words reveal quite where you’ve arrived.
That’s one reason the songs can reward another listen.
A harmony you hadn’t noticed. An instrumental detail. A lyric that suddenly means something different.
Another listen can reveal something new.
They don’t need to sound alike.
They need to have a reason to exist.
No fixed genre. No throwaway words.
Explore the songs. Read the words. Decide what they mean to you.
