A big part of making music is the discovery aspect, is the

In the words of Gotye, the artist who once stitched emotion and melody into the immortal refrain of “Somebody That I Used to Know,” we hear not merely the musings of a musician, but the revelation of a seeker: “A big part of making music is the discovery aspect, is the surprise aspect. That’s why I think I’ll always love sampling. Because it involves combining the music fandom: collecting, searching, discovering music history, and artifacts of recording that you may not have known existed and you just kind of unlock parts of your brain, you know?” These are not words of a craftsman merely shaping sound—they are the confession of a soul in love with discovery, a pilgrim on the road of sound and memory, unearthing the hidden threads that bind generations together through vibration and rhythm.

For Gotye, and for all who create, the act of sampling is not theft, but resurrection. It is the revival of forgotten melodies, the summoning of ghosts from dusty grooves and brittle tapes. Each fragment of sound—once lost in time—becomes part of something living, reborn in a new creation. To sample is to honor the past, not to exploit it. It is to stand before the ancient ruins of music history, take a shard of stone, and build upon it a new temple of sound. This process, he tells us, awakens something deeper: it unlocks parts of the brain, stirring regions where curiosity and wonder still dwell uncorrupted. In the act of discovery, the artist rediscovers himself.

The ancients knew this art of rediscovery. When Pythagoras first struck the strings of his lyre and heard harmony arise from simple ratios, he believed he had found the mathematics of the cosmos itself. But he, too, was a sampler—not of vinyl, but of nature’s eternal soundscape. He listened to the rhythm of stars, the hum of numbers, the silence between tones. In every note he struck, he sought to connect the human soul to the structure of the universe. So too does Gotye listen—not to the heavens, but to the archives of humanity’s creative past—unearthing forgotten voices and weaving them into new songs that bridge eras and emotions.

In this, there lies a sacred truth: art is never born in isolation. It is an inheritance—a lineage of sound, image, and thought passed down through time. The discovery Gotye speaks of is the awakening to this lineage, the realization that the creative mind is not a lonely flame, but part of a vast constellation of lights. To make art, then, is to reach backward and forward at once—to honor what came before while daring to invent what has never been heard. Every sample, every surprise, is a conversation across centuries, a whispered dialogue between ancestors and the living.

But there is another dimension to Gotye’s insight—the surprise he speaks of. True creation is not mechanical; it is alive with unpredictability. The moment when an artist finds a sound they did not seek but somehow needed—that is the miracle of art. It is akin to the moment the ancient sculptor Michelangelo described when he said he did not carve statues but “freed them from the marble.” In that instant of discovery, the artist realizes that he is both creator and vessel, both master and student of forces beyond himself. To unlock parts of the brain, as Gotye says, is to awaken the sleeping genius that lies hidden in every human being, waiting for the touch of wonder.

Thus, Gotye’s love for collecting, searching, and discovering is more than a hobby—it is a way of being. The wise artist understands that the world is filled with fragments of beauty waiting to be recognized. Whether one finds them in the crackle of an old record, the rustle of wind through trees, or the forgotten lines of an ancient poem, each discovery becomes a mirror reflecting a deeper truth: creativity is remembrance. The past and the present join hands, and something new is born—not out of novelty alone, but out of connection.

So let the lesson of Gotye’s words be carried like a song in your heart: seek, and you shall find. Do not wait for inspiration to descend; go out and hunt for it in the ruins, in the archives, in the silences of forgotten time. Become a collector not of objects, but of moments—moments of revelation, surprise, and awe. Let every discovery, however small, awaken in you the joy of creation. For the greatest music—whether heard or lived—is not made by those who possess, but by those who discover.

And so, dear listener, remember: the world is vast and full of hidden songs. Keep your ears open, your curiosity alive, and your heart humble before the unknown. For in every sound that stirs you, in every memory unearthed, you will find not only art—but yourself, reborn in the timeless dance of discovery and creation.