Inner Space: The Emotional Landscape of Six Missing
One of the questions I get asked often on podcasts is: Where does this music come from? Not in the technical sense—not the gear or software—but the deeper question of what drives the sound. And the truth is, everything I create as Six Missing comes from a place I can only describe as inner space.
It’s that space behind your eyes when you close them. The quiet place between thoughts. The part of you that remembers without words. That’s the terrain I try to explore through ambient music.
Sound as Emotional Memory
In my conversations on podcasts like Spotlight On and We All Speak In Poems, I’ve talked about how sound, for me, is often a form of emotional processing. I’ve never been someone who could easily articulate how I’m feeling in the moment—but give me a guitar, a delay pedal, a synth—and I can express what words can’t.
It’s not just about creating beautiful textures. It’s about tracing emotional arcs—anxiety, peace, loss, curiosity—and turning them into sonic environments. That’s why so much of my music is spacious. I want to give the listener room to feel, to breathe, to reflect.
The Influence of Burnout and Recovery
In the Spotlight On interview, I talked about the period of burnout that led to the creation of my EP Gentle Breath. That time taught me the importance of slowing down, of listening inward, and of creating music that doesn’t demand anything from the listener. No narrative. No hook. Just presence.
Music became a way to soothe my nervous system—to ground myself when things felt overwhelming. And now, it’s my way of offering that same stillness to others.
Improvisation and Flow
Another thread that came up in Modular Stories and Ambient Discourses was how much of Six Missing is built on improvisation. I love the idea of capturing a moment—not planning too much, just letting the sound unfold. Improvising with a synth and a filter, letting the delay trail carry a melody into somewhere unexpected—that’s where the magic lives.
That kind of spontaneity mirrors how I experience emotion. Rarely neat. Often nonlinear. But always layered.
Ambient Music as Permission
At its core, I think ambient music offers permission—to slow down, to feel, to not know, to not rush. Whether it’s playing during a walk, a late-night journaling session, or just while lying still on the floor, ambient music meets you where you are.
I’ve come to think of my music as a kind of mirror. Not one that reflects the outer world, but one that reveals something quiet and often overlooked inside. The parts of us that are still, that are soft, that are waiting to be heard.
If you’d like to step into that space, I’d recommend my Meditative Moments playlist. It’s filled with songs—mine and others’—that carry that same sense of emotional presence and stillness:
🎧 Follow & Save Meditative Moments
Until next time,
Your fellow human just being.
Six Missing