Lyric

"I've spent my life making records, but this time, the work made the person I am today."
In March 2026, HAIIRO DE ROSSI released his 12th studio album, Identity. He has now completed his new album, Bedroom Madness.

This album is neither a sequel to Identity nor an evolution of it.

It was not made according to a clear blueprint. Only after it was finished did he realize what he had actually been making.

House, trap, industrial, dub, glitch hop, Detroit, soul, and ambient elements coexist throughout the album. There is little conventional musical cohesion, yet it holds together through the time, body, and breath of one human being.

HAIIRO DE ROSSI has long been associated with work that moves between jazz and hip-hop. On this album, however, he consciously let go of what might traditionally be considered a "Jazz sound."

What remained was a methodology: perceiving time through the body, trusting instinctive reactions, and resisting the urge to over-control.

Ironically, the result is the most jazz-like album he has ever made.

Not jazz as a sound, but jazz as a philosophy and a physicality.

That is what runs through Bedroom Madness.

The album was created through repetition: reacting to sound, writing words, and recording. In that process, thoughts and emotions that even the artist himself had not been conscious of gradually surfaced.

After finishing the album, he found himself reading the work back as though he were its listener.

"Why did I write these words?"

"Why didn't I sing at the end?"

"Why did I leave behind so many questions?"

The person searching for those answers was the artist himself, before the listener ever could.

In the first half, the listener observes HAIIRO DE ROSSI as a human being-raging, laughing, and questioning himself.

But that relationship gradually reverses.

The one watching and the one being watched exchange places.

The person ultimately left standing in front of the mirror is not the artist.

It is the listener.

And there is only one question left:

"Who are you?"

There is no answer prepared.

The artist himself does not have one.

Media, reviews, rankings, social media, playlists, and other structures surrounding contemporary music repeatedly come into view.

But this is not about condemning any individual.

The recurring statement, "The value of a work does not exist on a screen," is a realization born from continuing to look directly at the world in front of him.

Does a boundary between sanity and madness really exist?

Does the world appear distorted because you are losing your mind?

Or does it look that way because you are the one losing your mind?

The album refuses to answer.

Toward the end, WHY? repeats questions without answers.

I Know holds memories of someone who can no longer be reached.

Finally, the lyricless ambient instrumental Graduation plays quietly.

What does graduation mean?

No answer is given.

As language gradually loses its outline, all that remains is sound.

Bedroom Madness is not an album that provides answers, nor one that pretends to have them.

It is the work of an artist who accepted that he himself does not know the answers and chose to leave that state of being behind as a work of art.

What remains after the final note is not the artist's conclusion, but a question returned to the listener.