WHAT is Unfinished?
Not quite an album. Not quite anything else, either.
Unfinished is what most people would probably call an album. And for the sake of simplicity, let’s call it that.
It’s a collection of ten compositions, written over the course of several years, sometimes decades, exploring some of the most personal experiences, thoughts and emotions I’ve ever had.
Musically, it’s a rather strange creature. Progressive rock, orchestral arrangements, ambient textures, occasional electronic elements and whatever else I found necessary to express something that words alone couldn’t quite capture.
There are no particular genre boundaries here, nor any attempts to follow trends, satisfy algorithms or squeeze everything into a radio-friendly format.
One thing is certain: none of the compositions are short. I firmly believe that music should be allowed to tell its story, and that takes time. As much as it needs.
But the music itself is only part of the story.
Unfinished is also an attempt to create a different kind of listening experience. One where the music, lyrics, visual environments and stories behind each composition coexist, providing different perspectives on the same emotions.
That’s why, alongside more conventional ways of listening, Unfinished is being developed as an interactive experience, allowing listeners to explore the music and its background in ways that a traditional album simply cannot offer.
So, yes, it IS music, certainly. But I’d like it to be something worth exploring, rather than merely consuming.
WHO is Unfinished?
I’m Igor. And I’m not particularly good at keeping things simple.
I’ve been writing, performing, arranging and producing music for Unfinished since 2017. But my relationship with music goes back considerably further than that.
For most of my life, music has been the one language I could turn to when ordinary words weren’t quite enough.
Which is somewhat ironic, considering how much I tend to talk.
I’ve never been particularly interested in making music simply for the sake of making music. I need it to mean something. To carry something. Preferably something that couldn’t have been expressed any other way.
And that brings me to emotions.
We live in a world where showing genuine emotions can be surprisingly expensive. Vulnerability is often mistaken for weakness, honesty can be used against you, and keeping a straight face becomes something of a survival skill.
I understand that. I’ve learned those lessons myself.
But there’s a problem with protecting yourself too well.
Eventually, you might find yourself withholding the very emotions that make you human, even from people who genuinely deserve them.
And I think something similar happens with art.
I firmly believe that honesty is one of the most important qualities art can possess. And I find it difficult to imagine genuine artistic honesty without emotional involvement.
Which leaves me with a rather uncomfortable situation.
If I want my music to be honest, I have to be honest myself.
Even when it makes me vulnerable.
Especially then.
So, Unfinished is me doing something that doesn’t come particularly naturally: opening up, without knowing what the consequences might be.
I’m not entirely sure I’m ready for that.
But I’m doing it anyway.
WHY is it Unfinished?
Because I’m not finished either.
That might sound like an unnecessarily philosophical answer to a fairly straightforward question, but bear with me.
Most albums are conceived, written, recorded, mixed, mastered and eventually released. At some point, the artist decides that the work is finished.
And that’s perfectly fine.
But I’ve always struggled with the idea of calling something finished when the very thing that inspired it is still changing.
Unfinished is built around emotions, memories, relationships, fears, hopes and experiences that have shaped who I am.
But none of those things are static.
The way I feel about something today might be different tomorrow. The way I understand an experience from twenty years ago might change because of something that happens next week.
And if the music is supposed to represent those feelings honestly, why should it remain unchanged?
So I decided that it shouldn’t.
Unfinished won’t have one definitive version.
Compositions may evolve. Arrangements may change. New interpretations may emerge. Something that feels complete today might need another chapter tomorrow.
And some things might never find a resolution.
For me, that’s not a flaw. That is the concept. And I don’t use the word “concept” lightly.
Of course, this presents a rather obvious practical problem: at some point, I actually have to release something.
Otherwise, this whole thing could remain trapped in my studio forever, which, considering how long I’ve already been working on it, is a very real possibility.
So there will be releases. There will be versions. There will be moments when I decide that a particular iteration is ready to be shared.
But I won’t pretend that any of them represents the final word.
Because my feelings are not final.
My understanding of myself is not final.
And as long as those things continue to change, the music that represents them may change too.
This is Unfinished.
This is me.