Music That Feels Like Itachi's Genjutsu: My Songwriting Superpower Explained

Imagine if, with just a few words, I could take you to a completely different version of reality—a hyperrealistic alternate world where you could live, breathe, and feel every emotion as if it were your very own. That’s the superpower I dream of giving my songwriting: the ability to create detailed immersive experiences that pull my listeners into an entirely new world. A place where they can not only hear the story but step into it, feel the emotions, and live the journey alongside the characters I have created.

It’s similar to how anime can make you feel fully immersed in its world. I think of characters like Itachi from Naruto or one of the House Captains from Black Clover—those with the power to create illusions so real that you can’t tell where reality ends and imagination begins. I want my words to have an almost similar effect, but not to manipulate or control but to blow minds. Instead, I want to create worlds so vivid, so full of colour and emotion, that listeners can simply close their eyes and be transported. Like an anime character who can paint entire realities, my words would be the tool through which my listeners can live new adventures, even if just for a few minutes.

Creating Hyperrealistic Worlds

I’ve always been fascinated by storytelling that feels more real than the world we live in. I want my songs to be more than just melodies and lyrics—I want them to be entire universes. Imagine listening to "Experimenting with Hoomans" and suddenly finding yourself standing in a bustling street, surrounded by curious beings, almost like Rick and Morty exploring an alternate dimension filled with unpredictable creatures. Rain gently falls as neon lights flicker, and a sense of wonder and unease grips your heart. You can hear the distant rumble of laughter, the clink of alien machinery, and feel the damp chill of the atmosphere. It's about more than just hearing the song; it's about truly being there and experiencing the horror. Though in the content of this song, we might be living that reality right now.

Okay, let’s picture a song like "Sultana" that takes you to a warm desert evening, where you're lying beneath an endless sky of stars, feeling the rich culture and rhythm of an ancient kingdom. You can almost smell the spices drifting from market stalls, hear the clinking of jewelry, and feel the whispers of the past swirling around you. Reminds you of Dune? Arabian Nights? yes, imagine living it. It’s about creating more than just an auditory experience; it’s about crafting a world you can step into and explore, like Luffy stepping into a new island very soon in One Piece, ready for adventure. (Spoilers Anyone?)

In One Piece, there are characters who can create entire landscapes and alter the reality around them. I want my songs to be like that—a portal into a world you can explore, with each lyric weaving together the environment, the emotions, and the story. A world where, as the music plays, the boundaries between imagination and reality blur, and you find yourself fully immersed. "Scooby Doo Jackie Chan" should feel like you’re in the middle of a cartoonish, over-the-top action sequence, mixing the carefree laughter of Scooby-Doo with the acrobatics of Jackie Chan. It’s not just about listening; it’s about experiencing every moment, every heartbeat, every sensation. Going through the mental gymnastics of the protagonist in the song. I want listeners to feel the raindrops, the warmth of the sun, the chill of a breeze, and the weight of every emotion that runs through the story. I want every detail to feel so tangible that the lines between music and reality fade away.

Think of the feeling you get when watching an anime or a movie that’s so captivating you forget everything else. You lose track of time because you are completely absorbed in the experience. That’s what I want my music to do—to make time feel like it’s standing still, to create an atmosphere so rich that the listener forgets everything else. My goal is to paint the scenery with words and music, giving listeners the sense that they’ve been transported somewhere entirely new. Whether it's the nostalgic longing of "Ghadi Ghadi," which makes you feel like you’re flipping through old photo albums on a rainy afternoon, or the carefree chaos of "Experimenting with Hoomans," I want listeners to feel the thrill of adventure, the pang of nostalgia, and, most importantly, find pieces of themselves within the journey.

Making Emotions Tangible

The true magic of hyperrealism lies in the details. The color of the sky just before a storm, the way laughter echoes in an empty room, the tightening in your chest when you know something precious is slipping away. I want my songs to capture those small but powerful details that make emotions real. I want the joy, the sorrow, the hope, and the heartbreak to be portrayed so vividly that my listeners can’t help but feel it. Like the moments in an anime where a character’s tears are so real you feel your own eyes sting, or when a character’s smile is so genuine that you can’t help but smile too.

Take "Scooby Doo Jackie Chan," for example—it's all fun and games until you start feeling the deeper undertones of the lyrics, the madness behind the laughter. It’s not just a danceable track; it’s an emotional rollercoaster, the kind where you’re not quite sure if you’re laughing or crying. Or with "Ghadi Ghadi," I want to capture the bittersweetness of time slipping through your fingers, like that moment in Your Name when everything clicks, and you feel both heartbreak and hope in equal measure.

I want my listeners to feel like they are part of the story, not just onlookers. When I write, I think about what every scene looks like, smells like, and sounds like. I think about how the characters feel and how I can use my words to convey those feelings so powerfully that my listeners can’t help but feel them too. I want them to experience love, loss, joy, and despair in vivid detail, as if they’re right there with the characters, living each moment of the journey.

To do this, I focus on every sense, every little sensation that can pull someone deeper into the narrative. The rustle of leaves in the wind, the lingering scent of someone you love, the sound of footsteps fading away, the warmth of a smile on a winter day—these details might seem small, but they are what make the story come alive. I want the music to touch the deepest emotions of the listeners, and for each song to be an experience where every nuance counts. The goal is for the listeners to not just understand the characters but to empathize with them, to feel their hopes, their fears, and their dreams as if they were their own.

The Power of Connection

Ultimately, this superpower is about connection. Creating worlds through songwriting is about inviting people in—letting them live in a reality I’ve built with my words and melodies. It’s about breaking down the barriers between the artist and the audience, allowing them not just to understand the story I’m telling, but to experience it for themselves. I want my listeners to connect with the emotions, the settings, and the characters in such a profound way that they walk away feeling like they’ve lived a life they never thought possible, even if only for a few minutes.

That’s the superpower I want my songwriting to have—the power to make people feel like they’ve jumped into a hyperrealistic world, like they’re living and breathing the story alongside the characters. A power that blurs the line between song and reality, where music becomes an experience you can live in. It’s about making every song an adventure, an escape, and a place to belong.

I want my songwriting to serve as a bridge—a way to connect people not only to my music but also to themselves and to each other. Music has this incredible ability to evoke empathy, to make us feel understood, and to bring us together. By creating hyperrealistic worlds that people can live in, I hope to forge those connections in a deeper, more meaningful way. Whether it’s through shared joy, collective nostalgia, or a mutual understanding of heartbreak, I want my music to resonate on an emotional level that goes beyond words.

Imagine someone listening to "Ghadi Ghadi" and suddenly feeling a sense of comfort because they see themselves in the story. They hear their own experiences reflected back at them in vivid detail, and they realize they aren’t alone. That’s the real magic—the power to make someone feel seen, to make someone feel understood. I want my songs to be a safe haven, a place where people can escape but also a place where they can confront and process their own emotions. It’s about giving listeners an emotional journey, letting them explore the highs and lows of life through the lens of music.

I also want my music to be a shared experience. When someone listens to one of my songs, I want them to feel a connection not only to me but to others who have experienced the same emotions. Music can be a powerful reminder that we are all in this together—that the same emotions, the same stories, and the same experiences bind us. By creating hyperrealistic worlds, I want to bring people together in those shared experiences, to make them feel like they are part of something bigger than themselves.

That’s why this superpower is so important to me. It’s not just about storytelling—it’s about creating an experience that people can inhabit. It’s about giving people a world to live in, even if only for a few minutes, and making that experience so vivid and real that they carry it with them long after the song has ended. That’s the superpower I want my songwriting to have—the power to transform, to connect, and to create worlds where my listeners can truly live.