ADHD, dyslexia, all the fun stuff. When I was a kid, none of those labels really existed, not like they do today. To my teachers, I was just “lazy,” “disruptive,” and especially not worth their time.
It’s never really been quiet in my head. Thoughts spiraling, overlapping, colliding into one loud, unfiltered fountain of mush. Imagine Netflix with every show playing at once, no subtitles, volume up to eleven, all on a single screen… and I’m the poor sod who has to sit there and watch it and try and figure out what’s going on.
That was my normal, and honestly….?
It still is most days.
Music was the only thing that ever quieted the chaos. Even before I really understood anything about mental health, I instinctively used sound as a pressure release valve. The one thing that kept me from combusting.
I guess Lost Keys is the grown-up version of that instinct, that trick. A way to turn noise into something that doesn’t drown me, but something that actually helps.
How It Began
I tried at school, I genuinely did, but I realise only now, with having kids of my own, the system wasn’t really built for people like me. No diagnosis, no support, just labels: “bone-idle”, “Doesn’t try”, “Won’t amount to anything”… and the worst “stupid”.
Unfortunately, kids learn to believe what they’re told. Those repeated comments from my, so called, teachers stuck. They shaped how I saw myself, how I moved through the world, and even how I treated the things I loved.
Music included. Instead of using it as an outlet, I put it away as something that wasn’t meant for me. Because if I tried and failed, the teachers would be right. Luckily, my parents were the only voices pushing back, telling me I wasn’t broken, just different. They kept me afloat, even when it felt like I was sinking.
But shame is loud. Really loud. For years, it drowned everything else out.
What I Carried
Letting Myself Begin
For most of my life, I waited for the perfect moment to start again. A better version of me: more confidence, less chaos. Sadly, it took over 30 years to realise that moment doesn’t ever show up.
Once I realised this, I accepted that being “ready” isn’t a feeling. It’s a decision.
Lost Keys was born out of burnout, frustration, and the realisation that I either start now, and do something I love, messy or not, or I never start at all.
And honestly? Using a brand name instead of me and my identity, gave me space to breathe, make mistakes, and take risks. It’s not hiding, it’s giving myself permission to try without the crushing fear of being judged.
Lost Keys isn’t a persona, it’s the part of me that finally stopped waiting for permission to exist and just stood up.
Building Lost Keys
I’m not chasing trends, hype, or numbers, I couldn’t care less to be honest.
I just want to leave behind something that feels real, proof that I existed, proof that I showed up.
Every mix, every beat, every archive matters to me because it comes from a place that used to be locked away. It’s my way of saying this is who I am. This is what my world sounds like. For me, every moment lives in music. And through this outlet, I’m no longer scared or ashamed to express my feelings, my thoughts, my sound.
And honestly? It’s also a massive middle finger to every teacher who denied me the potential and confidence to be myself.
They were wrong.
I might be late, but I’m here now.
Trying to process thoughts as they arrive is far too much for me. It’s like trying to compete in the Monaco Grand Prix… in a clown car, knees by your ears, wig covering your eyes. Ridiculous and pointless.
Have you ever stumbled across a track or a piece of music that you hit repeat on, over and over, without really knowing why? Somehow, in that moment, it unlocks a space in your mind. A space where you can suddenly feel something, access a memory, or let a flow of thoughts take over.
That’s what this music does for me. Each track opens that space in a different way, at a different time, for different reasons.
Track Notes are my way of narrating the journey; the thoughts and the process that led me there. They’re like a map I can revisit anytime, paired with the music that took me there. Depending on my mood, I can step into that space on demand, wherever I need it most.
Making Sense of It All
Connection & Truth
I’m sharing all of this because I want you to know the story behind the mixes, not just the sound.
For me, sound carries emotion, feeling, and sensation. It’s how I experience life, how I make sense of moments, how I map my feelings and navigate my inner world.
I know I’m probably not alone in the way music connects us to ourselves, and lifts us up when we are down. That’s why I choose to share this.
If you’ve ever felt lost, overwhelmed, not good enough, misunderstood, or like the world expects you to function in a way you simply can’t… I hear you. These mixes are my sound and my stories, a way to connect with myself. Maybe, through this music and storytelling, you can find pieces of yourself too.
Lost Keys isn’t just music. It’s me learning to exist without pretending.
No longer seeking for permission or approval.
Thank You
If you’ve made it this far — thank you.
If anything I create makes you feel something, helps you through a rough day, or simply adds a bit of fire to a good one, that’s already more than I ever expected.
I make this for myself, to survive my own noise. But it’s also for anyone who needs a little relief, distraction, connection, or comfort in theirs…
And if it just the music? I hope you enjoy it.
Take what you need from it. It’s yours now too.
- Cheers, Matt
Thank You
If you’ve made it this far — thank you.
If anything I create makes you feel something, helps you through a rough day, or simply adds a bit of fire to a good one, that’s already more than I ever expected.
I make this for myself, to survive my own noise. But it’s also for anyone who needs a little relief, distraction, connection, or comfort in theirs…
And if it just the music? I hope you enjoy it.
Take what you need from it. It’s yours now too.
- Cheers, Matt