Baz Maratti

There are things in life that shape you so deeply they never truly leave you — they become part of every breath, every thought, and every song you write.

 

For me, one of those things is the love I have for my children. And the pain of missing them is something that words can never fully hold. It is a silence that follows me, a weight that sits in every moment of the day, and a feeling that lives inside everything I create. My music has become the only place where I can truly speak to that feeling — where heartbreak, love, and hope all exist in the same breath. Every lyric I write carries a piece of them with me, even when they are not here beside me.

 

I also carry the memory of my grandad, who I lost a while ago. He was someone I often think about when life gets quiet. I find myself wondering if he would be proud of me — proud of the man I became, and the path I am still trying to walk. In many ways, my music is for him too. It is a way of still speaking to him, still reaching for him, still hoping that somehow he can hear what I could never say when he was here.

 

From those places of love, loss, and reflection came my first album, New Era. That project marked the beginning of something I didn’t fully understand at the time — a turning point where I stopped holding everything inside and started turning it into music. It became a chapter of rebirth, built from pain, growth, and the decision to keep moving forward no matter what life had taken from me.

 

Now I stand at the edge of something new again with my upcoming album, You Will Never Know. This record goes even deeper. It speaks to the thoughts that stay unspoken, the emotions that don’t have easy answers, and the parts of life that can never fully be explained to anyone else. It is honest in a way that only lived experience allows it to be. Through it all, I have learned that nothing in life is wasted. Even the people who have hurt me, even the moments that broke me, have shaped the person I am becoming. And for that, I am grateful. Not because it was easy — but because it made me real.

 

I want to thank the people who have stood beside me, believed in me, and supported me even when I didn’t fully believe in myself. I also want to acknowledge those who pushed me out of my comfort zone, even when it was uncomfortable or difficult. Without them, I may never have found my voice or had the courage to tell my story through music.

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Baz Maratti is not just an artist name. It is a reflection of everything I have lived, everything I still carry, and everything I am still becoming. And this journey is far from over.