I never understood who I was, never thought I was good enough, never

thought I’d get anywhere. In school I would draw all over the desks, all over

my work, all over. I thought I may become a photojournalist, or make video

games. I wanted to learn what life meant. Growing up my family was

ethnically diverse. My grandmother was native to Algeria, my grandfather

former Yugoslavia. My mother was born in France, my father Canadian. I

didn’t quite know where I belonged.

My father had this old Hewlett Packard computer with this bootleg copy of

fruity loops, I’d spend hours making beats. I couldn’t stop creating. I didn’t

start singing until after my mothers death, it was the only way I could unpack

my emotions. I became colder than the winter that she left. I fell in a

downward spiral and would eventually have to face the depression that

swelled inside. I tried everything I could to numb myself to the pain but it only

made it worse.

I began filtering my struggle into music, I felt repaired analyzing the things

that tore me up. I began constructing a world that I could find solace in. The

first song I had ever finished was BAD CHILD. I had written and produced it in

3 days and thrown it online. I moved to Toronto not knowing anyone, just on a

gut instinct. I lived out of an old rehearsal space with a hotplate and an air

mattress, and when the air mattress burst I slept on the floor. I made music

everyday and lived on oatmeal and cigarettes.

1/2 cup of water

1/2 cup of cranberries

1 Pinch of cinnamon

1 cup oatmeal

That recipe got me through the first year on my own, I don’t recommend it. It

was the first time in my life I had a purpose. BAD CHILD took on a different

meaning to me. It was about finding redemption in my failures. BAD CHILD is

about not being good enough, not living up to expectations, it’s about trying

to be a better person

Responsible Agents Alex Hardee
Ryan Penty

Territories Worldwide except North America