My Story

  • A LOUD BEGINNING

    Living with an ADHD mind

    Growing up with undiagnosed ADHD and dyslexia, before anyone really knew what that meant. Teachers would call me lazy, disruptive and stupid. My brain was always noisy. Thoughts piled on top of each other, overlapping and never stopping. That chaos felt normal to me, but I spent a long time thinking something was wrong with me. Turns out there wasn’t, I was just wired differently. But back then, all I knew was confusion, frustration, and the constant feeling that something was missing.

  • MUSIC WAS RELIEF

    Sound before understanding

    Music was the only thing that could calm my brain. Long before I understood this mental health stuff, I instinctively turned to sound to survive. It didn’t explain anything, it just held me. When words failed or overwhelmed me, music made the chaos bearable. I didn’t realise I was learning to regulate myself through sound, just that it worked. It became a lifeline, a way to release pressure and get through days that might have otherwise felt completely unmanageable.

  • WHAT I CARRIED

    Shame learns early

    I carried a lot of shame. Years of being told by teachers I wouldn’t amount to anything stuck with me. Those voices shaped how I saw myself and how I treated my creativity. I hid the things I loved, including music, because I was scared that trying and failing would prove them right. Only my parents supported me, reminding me I wasn’t broken, just different. I learned to be careful with myself, to protect what I loved while still feeling like I might never be enough.

  • CHOOSING TO BEGIN

    Permission is a decision

    For most of my life, I waited to feel ready. That moment never came. Burnout did. Lost Keys started when I finally stopped waiting for permission and just began. Using a project name “Lost Keys” gave me room to experiment and fail without performing or asking for approval. It wasn’t hiding, it was finally letting myself start. I could create on my own terms, make mistakes, and be honest. That first step, just deciding to do it, was more important than anything I’d done before.

Building Lost Keys

  • MUSIC AS MEMORY

    Every moment lives in sound

    I started making long-form DJ mixes without planning, following mood instead of rules. Each mix captured something I couldn’t put into words at the time. Listening back lets me re-enter those moments and feel them honestly. Over time, it became a journal of my life; burnout, restlessness, calm, clarity. Music recorded what I couldn’t say. Those sessions became a map of my mind, a way to process and remember life as it happened, in real, unfiltered pieces of sound rather than filtered words.

  • A WAY OF LISTENING

    Beyond genre or taste

    This isn’t about genre, preference, or what people “should” like. It’s about what the music gives you in the moment. You don’t choose what you want, you let it reach you. Music became a tool to regulate, to reset, to hold me when I couldn’t do it myself. It taught me presence, patience, and how to pay attention to myself. It’s not about control, it’s about leaning into what’s happening, letting sound do the work I couldn’t do with words or thinking alone.

  • FROM PRIVATE TO SHARED

    Because I am not alone

    At first, it was private. But as the mixes grew, I realised I wasn’t the only one using music this way. People use sound to cope, reflect, and move through feelings that are hard to talk about. Sharing my work felt more honest than keeping it hidden. Lost Keys became a space others could step into, a place where you don’t have to explain or perform, just exist with the music. That shift made it feel bigger than me, bigger than a personal practice.

  • WHY THIS MATTERS

    Music for feeling

    Lost Keys isn’t about perfection, trends, or performing for anyone. It’s about honesty and survival. Each mix is a record of how I navigate life, and a way for others to do the same. Music captures memory and feeling in ways words can’t. Every moment lives in sound. Sharing it, along with the track notes, gives context and creates a map of the journey I can revisit. It’s not about being heard, it’s about offering the same tool that helped me survive: a space to feel, process, and just be without judgment.

Why “Lost Keys”

The name comes from a simple truth; I’m always losing something (wallet, phone, focus, patience etc)… and yes, my keys. Part ADHD, part figuring out who I am, it’s just me.

What used to frustrate me is slowly getting met with acceptance and humor. Lost Keys is a reminder to accept the chaos, embrace mistakes, and keep going. It’s also a small protective screen between me and the world, and a symbol that sometimes losing ourselves is how we find our way back to the moment.

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 adds a spark to a good one, that’s already more than I ever expected.

I make this for myself, to navigate my own noise. But it’s also for anyone who needs a little relief, connection, or comfort in theirs.

It’s yours too. I hope you enjoy it.

- Cheers, Matt

A DJ wearing headphones is performing at a nightclub with a crowd dancing in the background. The scene is in black and white.

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