The hours. Some story’s just have to be told. But often, little is written of the hours. The writer Malcolm Gladwell describes the process of attaining mastery in any given field as a discipline. One that takes, at the very least, 10,000 hours to achieve. 10,000 hours of constant mistakes, constant doubts, constant frustrations, constant starts, constant stops, and constant incompletions. While there are those who get a glimpse of that, very few truly achieve it. Maybe it’s because of the toll that the path to mastery takes on you. It’s something akin to a monastic order. Practicing the same thing day in, day out. It’s the difference between a new + trendy sushi spot in downtown LA and Jiro Ono’s modest sushi stall in the Ginza ward of Tokyo. Tucked away at the bottom of a stairwell in a subway station, Ono’s nondescript shop is easily passed up. There are no outwards signs hinting at a master dwelling within. But those who know, know. The sushi that he and his staff prepare – day in, day out – is simply the best. You can taste the work in it. All of those hours mixed down to one bite. Just the same, you can taste the work in Sebb’s music. Hussle Crowe. The scientist. A craftsman who spends countless hours in a lab, hidden in a basement in Lausanne, Switzerland, just off Lake Geneva. It’s a most unsuspecting location for a musical master to be situated. It’s not the mecca that LA has become and certainly not the cultural center point that is NYC, but it serves it’s purpose. And those who know, know. If you know how to hear it and what to listen for, then you get it. Take Gladwell’s 10,000 hours. Multiply that a few times. Add in some authenticity. A whole bunch of sacrifice. a brain that’s equal parts simple + complex. Two golden ears and one monstrous creative drive + output. There you have it. That’s the recipe.