In today’s music industry, it seems like the louder you shout, the more likely you are to be heard. Artists are encouraged to be everywhere, on stage, on social media, in interviews, and even in their private lives. Yet, I’ve always believed that music is about more than the person behind it. For me, anonymity isn’t about hiding; it’s about preserving something sacred. It’s about creating a space where the music comes first.
This isn’t a new idea, and I’m certainly not the first to take this approach. Daft Punk might be the most famous example of artists who let their music and their mystique speak louder than their faces ever could. But they’re not alone. Artists like Sia, who covered her face with wigs to shift the focus to her voice, or Gorillaz, who built an entire virtual band to represent their music, show that anonymity can be a powerful tool for storytelling. Even Kiss, with their iconic mask, used mystery to create characters and mythology that enriched their rock music.
Why I Chose Anonymity
For me, remaining anonymous isn’t just a strategy, it’s a way to protect what matters most. Music has always been my refuge, a way to express what I can’t say in words. I want listeners to connect with the feelings, the stories, and the sounds, not especially with the person I am outside of those moments.
Anonymity gives me the freedom to explore, to take risks, and to embrace a diversity of styles. It lets me be flexible, to focus on what’s right for the music rather than what’s expected of me as an individual. And it gives you, the listener, the freedom to interpret my work without preconceived notions.
This is why I am able to create progressive music one day, pop rock chansons the other, and some instrumental in between…
Examples of Anonymity’s Power
Beyond Daft Punk, countless artists have embraced anonymity or transformed their personas to craft something larger than life. Deadmau5, for instance, turned his identity into a symbol with the iconic mouse head, creating an instantly recognizable character while keeping his personal life in the background. Similarly, Banksy, though not a musician, leverages anonymity in art to shift the focus entirely onto his work, sparking thought and conversation without the distraction of a public persona.
In live performance, the use of masks, makeup, and theatrical identities has been a game-changer for decades. Peter Gabriel’s era with Genesis and David Bowie’s ever-evolving personas exemplify this. From Ziggy Stardust to the Thin White Duke, Bowie didn’t just play music, he created entire worlds, letting surreal visuals and bold experimentation take the spotlight. These artists built heroes and anti-heroes that captured imaginations, making their performances unforgettable.
What lingers in our memories is the journeys they invited us on, the costumes, the music, the stories, and the artistry of their bands. Their creations become timeless, inviting us to first feel the music and visuals and, only later, explore the identities behind them. It’s a powerful reminder that sometimes, the art is best served when the artist steps aside.
These artists teach us something important: the less you give away, the more space you leave for others to imagine, connect, and create their own meaning.
Scarcity and the Magic of Moments
There’s another side to anonymity: the idea of rarity. When Daft Punk released an album or played a live set, it felt like an event. That sense of anticipation, of not knowing when or if they’d return, added a layer of excitement to everything they did. I’m drawn to this idea, not because I want to make music rare for the sake of it, but because I want each release to feel special.
Artists like Enya, who avoids performing live, have shown that less visibility doesn’t mean less impact. It can mean the opposite. When you hear her music, it feels timeless, unburdened by the constant churn of the industry.
The Challenge of Anonymity
Of course, there’s a challenge in being anonymous, especially in a world where the music industry is built on visibility. As an independent artist, I often wonder if choosing this path makes things harder, how do you build a connection when people don’t know your face? How do you reach new listeners when they’re bombarded by artists sharing every detail of their lives?
The answer, I think, lies in the music itself. By creating songs that resonate deeply, by telling stories that are personal but universal, and by building a universe around the work, I hope to foster connections that go beyond surface-level recognition. I agree, it is hard, not easy, and sometimes I feel desperate doing it like this. But I do need to test this, this is my personal challenge. A bit like this weekly newsletter 😄
What’s Next for Mitxoda?
Anonymity doesn’t mean I want to be distant, it just means I want the connection to be about the music or art, more generally. I want to create something lasting, something that feels rare and special, like a shared secret between us. I don’t know where this path will take me, but I’m excited to continue exploring it with you.
Maybe one day Mitxoda will have a world of its own, a universe where each release is a piece of a larger puzzle. Maybe I’ll stay small, creating for the joy of it and for those of you who have found me. Either way, I’m grateful for the journey.
Thank you for listening, not just to the songs, but to the stories they carry.
