On Refusing the Seven

Most artists are asked what they put into a record. This conversation is about what was kept out.

Start with the seven.

They are the things a complete person refuses: hate, abusing and hurting, fighting, war, yelling, cruelty, aggression. The principles of Mangomichi are not complex or hidden — they are the core values of humanity. But a good person is defined not just by what they do; they are defined by what they refuse to do.

How does a refusal become a sound?

Take yelling. Saying no to yelling is not just about volume in an argument — it is a production decision. Nothing on this record is shouted. The loudest moment is a subtraction, not an addition. When you remove the option of shouting, you are forced to become interesting instead.

Or take cruelty. A lot of music gets its energy from contempt — at an ex, at a rival, at a version of the world. That is cheap fuel and it burns dirty. Refusing it means you have to find a harder, better reason for the song to exist.

Is refusing not just restriction?

Every discipline looks like restriction from the outside and freedom from the inside. Twenty-one things to do, seven things to refuse. Nobody complains that a sonnet has fourteen lines.

What about anger? Is anger banned?

No. Anger is information. What is refused is what anger tempts you into — the yelling, the aggression, the wish to make somebody smaller. You can be completely furious and still speak softly. That is not suppression, that is control.

Being mean is easy; anyone can do that. Being strong is staying calm while the storm rages around you.

And the reward?

Significantly less stress. More inner peace. A real sense of fulfilment. You stop fighting the current and start swimming with the Cosmos. And you become recognisable — other people who are trying to be good can spot you, not by a secret handshake, but by the peace in your Being and the intent in your Doing.

Last question. Why put the equation on a t-shirt?

Because identification is free and it should be visible. Wearing 21 + 7 = 1 is a public statement: you can expect me to be responsible, to be kind, and to be a safe space. The shirt does not make you good. It just makes the promise harder to quietly break.