We Stopped Trying,
We Started Doing
We Started Doing
This text is a way of marking a moment — the point when it became clear that we’re no longer “trying things out.”
We’re doing the work, and there’s no going back.
THE OTO launched in 2025. From the very beginning, we chose a less comfortable path: setting goals that are often described as “too ambitious for a young media project” — and refusing to pretend otherwise. We didn’t simplify them. We decided to work our way toward them.
Over the course of the year,
we didn’t just “build
a media project.”
we didn’t just “build
a media project.”
We launched as brand-new media, but with a team of people who brought real experience with them — in journalism, music, production, PR, and the creative industries.
That matters. Experience doesn’t eliminate risk, and risk doesn’t cancel out experience.
In fact, it’s usually in that tension that something genuinely alive begins to take shape.
We developed a voice, a way of seeing, a structure. We tested formats, let go of what didn’t work, and reworked what only worked halfway. That’s normal.
One of the key chapters of the year was festivals. Despite THE OTO being a young project, we received accreditations and worked at major international events. What mattered here wasn’t status, but perspective: you either find your place in that context, or you realize fairly quickly where you don’t belong. We found our footing.
But the main project of the year was the film.
The Healing Soundtrack: Unplugged Minds
A documentary film about music and mental health
In 2025, we completed THE OTO’s documentary film The Healing Soundtrack: Unplugged Minds, and after the Christmas holidays, we’re entering the editing phase.
The original idea behind the film was both simple and complex at once: to bring together musicians from different genres and scientific expertise. No slogans, no “motivational” clichés. No attempts to oversimplify what is complicated.
We wanted to understand how music actually affects the brain, the psyche, and the way we perceive reality.
That’s where an important insight emerged.
People who study music from a scientific perspective turned out to be remarkably open. We spoke with Oxford professors, neuroscientists, researchers of hearing and perception, authors of books and academic papers. These conversations weren’t distant or formal — they were engaged, thoughtful, and grounded in a genuine desire to talk about complex ideas in a clear and honest way.
We discussed how music is perceived differently depending on environment and space. Why the same piece of music feels different in a city, on the road, alone, or at a festival. How context changes neural responses. Why music can be supportive — and why, at times, it stops being so. All of this is scientifically grounded, yet surprisingly vivid and relatable.
The most difficult part turned out to be something else entirely: the conversation with the music industry.
We’re grateful to every artist who agreed to take part in the project — including interviews filmed at festivals, and the conversation with Lorna Shore. Their participation was thoughtful and intentional, and that matters to us.
Still, the broader reality proved tougher than expected.
The music industry is one of the most mentally unhealthy environments out there. This isn’t an opinion or a metaphor. Constant pressure, endless expectations, a culture of burnout, the romanticization of suffering, instability as a default setting — all of this creates conditions where people simply don’t have the capacity for an honest conversation.
Perhaps that’s why it’s so difficult to speak openly about the connection between music and mental health.
This creates a visible gap.
It’s strange when an artist’s music is built entirely around experiences of pain, loss, and internal struggle — when that experience is broadcast from the stage, aestheticized, and turned into a product — yet conversations that could genuinely support listeners are somehow deemed “low priority.”
No one is asking for confessions. No one expects tragedy. What people want is something else: alignment between content and form. If your music helps others navigate difficult moments, it makes sense not to pretend that this doesn’t matter.
Communication is another issue. Often, proposals simply never reach the artists themselves. There are managers, KPIs, metrics, performance tables. Meaning and impact rarely factor into those calculations. And it’s important to be honest here: managers are also trapped within the system. Pressure, expectations, and fear of “missing targets” affect not only artists, but everyone working around them.
The result is an industry where things are hard for everyone — and where honesty is rarely encouraged.
You can look away from that.
Or you can start a conversation.
Sincerity Is Not a Threat
Alongside the film, THE OTO runs an ongoing series called Unperformed — pieces in which artists speak openly and without filters. No polished phrasing, no ten-step approval processes, no sense that the text lost its meaning before it ever went live.
Personally, I find these materials more compelling. Not because they’re “more honest,” but because there’s less noise between the person and the point they’re trying to make. Real sincerity doesn’t weaken an artist — it sharpens them. But there’s an important caveat: sincerity stops working the moment it becomes a tool. It can’t be faked.
What’s Next
Right now, we’re gathering all the material and moving into the editing phase of the film. We also have a clear plan for its festival journey in 2026 — across European and international documentary festivals.
Our goal is to make a film that isn’t preachy, but alive. Playful in form, authorial in tone, demanding when it comes to visuals, and honest in its meaning.
The film’s music is a story of its own. A very well-known musician will be involved in the soundtrack. This isn’t a teaser for the sake of hype — it’s part of the project’s internal logic. In a film about music, sound can’t be an afterthought.
We genuinely enjoyed working on this project. And right now, we’re genuinely looking forward to the edit — to the moment when everything finally comes together. We’ll share a trailer, and we’ll continue talking about the process as it unfolds.
Special thanks to all of our speakers: professors from leading universities, researchers, PhDs, authors. Without their trust and depth, this film simply wouldn’t exist in the form it does.
There will be surprises in the film. More on that later.
Enter 2026
Yes, for now, we still exist within the rules of the industry.
But we’re going to change them.
We’ll do what we believe is necessary, and we’ll do it the way we believe it should be done. And we’re confident that among artists — in Europe, the U.S., and around the world — there are those who share this perspective. Those who understand how important music really is.
I genuinely believe that nothing is impossible. Sometimes, you just have to stop pretending that “this is how it’s done” — and start speaking honestly.
This was only the first year.
And honestly?
F**k playing it safe.
One of the key chapters of the year was festivals. Despite THE OTO being a young project, we received accreditations and worked at major international events. What mattered here wasn’t status, but perspective: you either find your place in that context, or you realize fairly quickly where you don’t belong. We found our footing.
But the main project of the year was the film.
The Healing Soundtrack: Unplugged Minds
A documentary film about music and mental health
In 2025, we completed THE OTO’s documentary film The Healing Soundtrack: Unplugged Minds, and after the Christmas holidays, we’re entering the editing phase.
The original idea behind the film was both simple and complex at once: to bring together musicians from different genres and scientific expertise. No slogans, no “motivational” clichés. No attempts to oversimplify what is complicated.
We wanted to understand how music actually affects the brain, the psyche, and the way we perceive reality.
That’s where an important insight emerged.
People who study music from a scientific perspective turned out to be remarkably open. We spoke with Oxford professors, neuroscientists, researchers of hearing and perception, authors of books and academic papers. These conversations weren’t distant or formal — they were engaged, thoughtful, and grounded in a genuine desire to talk about complex ideas in a clear and honest way.
We discussed how music is perceived differently depending on environment and space. Why the same piece of music feels different in a city, on the road, alone, or at a festival. How context changes neural responses. Why music can be supportive — and why, at times, it stops being so. All of this is scientifically grounded, yet surprisingly vivid and relatable.
The most difficult part turned out to be something else entirely: the conversation with the music industry.
We’re grateful to every artist who agreed to take part in the project — including interviews filmed at festivals, and the conversation with Lorna Shore. Their participation was thoughtful and intentional, and that matters to us.
Still, the broader reality proved tougher than expected.
The music industry is one of the most mentally unhealthy environments out there. This isn’t an opinion or a metaphor. Constant pressure, endless expectations, a culture of burnout, the romanticization of suffering, instability as a default setting — all of this creates conditions where people simply don’t have the capacity for an honest conversation.
Perhaps that’s why it’s so difficult to speak openly about the connection between music and mental health.
This creates a visible gap.
It’s strange when an artist’s music is built entirely around experiences of pain, loss, and internal struggle — when that experience is broadcast from the stage, aestheticized, and turned into a product — yet conversations that could genuinely support listeners are somehow deemed “low priority.”
No one is asking for confessions. No one expects tragedy. What people want is something else: alignment between content and form. If your music helps others navigate difficult moments, it makes sense not to pretend that this doesn’t matter.
Communication is another issue. Often, proposals simply never reach the artists themselves. There are managers, KPIs, metrics, performance tables. Meaning and impact rarely factor into those calculations. And it’s important to be honest here: managers are also trapped within the system. Pressure, expectations, and fear of “missing targets” affect not only artists, but everyone working around them.
The result is an industry where things are hard for everyone — and where honesty is rarely encouraged.
You can look away from that.
Or you can start a conversation.
Sincerity Is Not a Threat
Alongside the film, THE OTO runs an ongoing series called Unperformed — pieces in which artists speak openly and without filters. No polished phrasing, no ten-step approval processes, no sense that the text lost its meaning before it ever went live.
Personally, I find these materials more compelling. Not because they’re “more honest,” but because there’s less noise between the person and the point they’re trying to make. Real sincerity doesn’t weaken an artist — it sharpens them. But there’s an important caveat: sincerity stops working the moment it becomes a tool. It can’t be faked.
What’s Next
Right now, we’re gathering all the material and moving into the editing phase of the film. We also have a clear plan for its festival journey in 2026 — across European and international documentary festivals.
Our goal is to make a film that isn’t preachy, but alive. Playful in form, authorial in tone, demanding when it comes to visuals, and honest in its meaning.
The film’s music is a story of its own. A very well-known musician will be involved in the soundtrack. This isn’t a teaser for the sake of hype — it’s part of the project’s internal logic. In a film about music, sound can’t be an afterthought.
We genuinely enjoyed working on this project. And right now, we’re genuinely looking forward to the edit — to the moment when everything finally comes together. We’ll share a trailer, and we’ll continue talking about the process as it unfolds.
Special thanks to all of our speakers: professors from leading universities, researchers, PhDs, authors. Without their trust and depth, this film simply wouldn’t exist in the form it does.
There will be surprises in the film. More on that later.
Enter 2026
Yes, for now, we still exist within the rules of the industry.
But we’re going to change them.
We’ll do what we believe is necessary, and we’ll do it the way we believe it should be done. And we’re confident that among artists — in Europe, the U.S., and around the world — there are those who share this perspective. Those who understand how important music really is.
I genuinely believe that nothing is impossible. Sometimes, you just have to stop pretending that “this is how it’s done” — and start speaking honestly.
This was only the first year.
And honestly?
F**k playing it safe.
