3 days ago
- Entertainment
- Time Business News
Harry Kappen: The Sonic Alchemist of Emotion, Memory, and Truth
Harry Kappen doesn't walk into a room and raise the decibel level. He walks in and tunes it. That's who he is—a musician, therapist, husband, father, observer of humanity. And when he creates music, it's not just to fill silence. It's to make sense of it.
His latest album, Four , isn't your typical genre-hopping sonic experiment. It's a soul map—each track a pin dropped in an emotional landscape charted not for attention, but connection. 'Writing my music is like writing a book or painting a picture,' he tells me, his voice like a well-worn paperback, calm and textured. 'It's a reflection of how I feel at that moment.'
And that's the key with Kappen—he doesn't create to impress. He creates to express. If someone out there hears themselves in his melody, it's not planned. It's fate. 'I'm not about someone else's heart,' he shrugs. 'Only the person who feels addressed is about that.'
Harry's no stranger to the power of music beyond entertainment. As a music therapist, he's spent decades helping others unravel their own inner knots through sound. That experience, he says, taught him to confront his own vulnerabilities—not by burying them in lyrics, but by shaping them into them. 'Music has taught me to translate my feelings better than I can do verbally,' he confides. 'I'm fairly introverted. But music gives me a safe, universal way to express myself. That's the power of it.'
Take 'Courage,' a track on Four that sounds like it was carved straight out of the marrow of devotion. It's not some overblown ballad about conquering dragons in the name of love. It's something braver: honest acceptance. 'Many people told me it was brave to move to another continent for love,' Harry recalls. 'But I don't see it as bravery. It's just being open. What could be more beautiful than accepting love as it comes to you?'
That kind of wisdom can't be faked. And neither can his musical palette. Kappen's work spans rock, jazz, Latin grooves, even cinematic orchestration. It's not eclecticism for the sake of cool points. It's how his mind works. 'I grew up with rock and blues,' he says, 'but I don't want to limit myself to one style. Every song asks for its own approach.' He likens it to Bowie—not in a comparison of ego, but in fluidity of creative comfort. 'I don't feel at home in a genre,' he tells me, 'I feel at home in the act of building a song. Letting myself be carried by the mood.'
And yet for all the sonic wanderlust, there's one instrument that remains the anchor—his guitar. It's been there since his youth, from the clean, reverent strums to the screaming solos. It's his voice when words fall short. And often, they do.
When I ask how he finds time to write amidst being a father, husband, therapist, and human navigating the noise of the world, he just smiles. 'Car rides,' he says. 'My phone is full of ideas I sing while driving. I'm not in a hurry. I don't watch TV. Apparently, I'm good at time management.' And just like that, you remember: real artists don't chase time. They invite it to sit beside them while they create.
Of course, the noise of the world is something Kappen doesn't ignore. 'Break These Chains' is his lyrical scalpel, cutting through the skin of fake news and division. But even here, he doesn't scream into the void. He whispers truth. 'I don't feel like a lone voice,' he insists. 'Many are worried—just in different ways. Making music helps me distance myself from the chaos. It positions me as an observer.'
There's a boy inside Harry Kappen, still dreaming from the countryside of Groningen, watching Bonanza reruns and believing in endless summers. He hasn't gone away. He's just learned how to play chords. 'I hope to never lose that feeling,' he says. 'It's the basis of my musical pleasure.'
And when all the sound fades, when the lights go down and the silence returns, who is Harry Kappen?
'A quiet, introverted guy,' he says without hesitation. 'Someone who laughs a lot, cooks for others, thinks a lot. And someone who picks up the guitar when it's quiet for too long.'
Some people chase noise. Harry Kappen? He listens to the silence—and writes what it whispers.
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