"So I don't really have a clear plan, in terms of music, as to where I want to head in the future"

A veteran composer admitting to having no clear plan sounds less like aimlessness and more like a commitment to creative freedom. The statement rejects the pressure to plot a predictable career arc, especially in an industry that often rewards repetition. It suggests a willingness to be guided by curiosity rather than market signals or the inertia of past successes. For a musician whose work has ranged from sweeping orchestral themes to rock-driven tracks and intimate piano pieces, refusing a fixed destination keeps the palette wide open.

There is also humility here. Music, like any art, resists rigid roadmaps. The most resonant ideas often arise from chance, collaboration, or an unexpected constraint. By not locking himself into a direction, the composer stays receptive to the needs of each project, the personalities of performers, and the evolving technologies of production. That openness is especially relevant to game music, where narrative, mechanics, and player experience can reshape a score’s purpose minute by minute.

A lack of a clear plan is not the same as a lack of intention. It can be a disciplined posture: show up, experiment, and follow what sounds alive. This stance lowers the stakes of any single decision, making it easier to take risks, to discard what doesn’t work, and to let a piece become what it wants to be. It also wards off self-imitation. When audiences love a signature style, it’s tempting to repeat it forever; choosing not to plan is a way to resist calcification.

There’s a practical wisdom, too. Musical landscapes change, tools, platforms, genres, and listener habits evolve quickly. Flexibility becomes a survival skill. The compass becomes emotion, melody, and storytelling rather than a fixed career target. Embracing uncertainty keeps the work honest: the future isn’t a destination to be scheduled, but a space to be discovered, one unexpected theme at a time.