THE WARRIOR'S COUNCIL — MORISILMË (Interview to Deneb)

1. When did you first get the idea that you wanted a Railboard Stick as your next instrument?

Actually, the dream goes back a very long way. The first time I saw a Stick, I must have been around fourteen years old, and I remember thinking it was one of the strangest and coolest instruments I had ever seen.

But there was one small problem: it was expensive. Very expensive. For me at that age, it might as well have been an instrument from another planet.

So for many years, it remained one of those impossible dreams you keep tucked away somewhere in the back of your mind. You don't really expect it to come true, but somehow you never quite forget about it either.

Many, many years later, that dream eventually became Morisilmë.

2. What was your inspiration? What made you decide to learn this instrument?

The first time I really became fascinated with the Stick was seeing John Myung from Dream Theater playing one. It completely blew my mind. Seeing an instrument capable of handling those low frequencies and the weight we normally associate with a bass, while at the same time producing high-pitched sounds and melodies through tapping, seemed absolutely crazy to me.

Later, I started discovering other Stick players and began to understand just how far the instrument could actually go. And now I'm going to say something slightly dangerous as a Dream Theater fan [laughs]: John Myung is obviously an extraordinary bassist, but it was other musicians who had dedicated themselves specifically to the Stick who eventually showed me the instrument's true possibilities.

That's when curiosity turned into obsession.

I didn't just want to own one anymore.

I wanted to understand it.

3. How does one get a Chapman Stick? It's an unusual instrument; it's not like a guitar or bass that you can just buy at any music store...

That's part of the adventure. You don't normally walk into a music store, point at one hanging on the wall and say, “I'll take that one.”

Mine was ordered directly from Stick Enterprises, and the process can be very long. These are highly specialized instruments, and the waiting lists can be incredibly long. Every now and then, a used one turns up for sale, of course, but even that isn't very common.

So getting Morisilmë wasn't an impulse purchase. There was anticipation. A lot of waiting.

And when you've wanted an instrument since you were fourteen years old, the day that box finally arrives at your home feels pretty surreal.

4. How would you explain the difference between a Chapman Stick and a bass to someone who has never seen one before?

I usually describe the Railboard as some strange creature born somewhere between a bass, a guitar, a piano and a harp.

That doesn't mean it replaces any of them. It doesn't replace the bass, and it doesn't replace the guitar. It has an identity entirely of its own.

The biggest conceptual difference is in how you produce the notes. Instead of plucking, strumming or primarily attacking the strings with a pick, you're basically playing directly on the fretboard through tapping. That allows both hands to become independent musical voices.

And that changes the way you think.

You can play bass lines, chords, melodies, counterpoint, textures... and even several of those things simultaneously. But all that freedom comes at a price: it demands a huge amount of precision.

Used properly, it can add an entirely different dimension to the music. It's an incredibly powerful instrument.

5. How did it feel to hold your new Chapman Stick in your hands for the first time?

It was incredible. Literally a dream come true.

Morisilmë arrived on November 23, 2025, and I remember that first night perfectly because I was completely lost. Hahahaha.

I had this beautiful instrument in my hands that I had wanted for so many years... and I practically had no idea what to do with it. Even understanding the tuning properly felt complicated. Obviously, I immediately tried to play something, and my skill level was basically zero.

Terrible! Embarrassing! Hahahahaha.

But at the same time, it was beautiful.

Because from that very first night, there was always something new to discover. Every day I could do some little thing that I hadn't been able to do the day before.

And that feeling has never really gone away.

6. What was the first song you learned on it, and what was the experience like?

The first one was “Winter's Night” by CYGNUS, of course!

It was a very good choice to start with because it has a calmer, more arpeggiated character. It allowed me to concentrate on my hands, on the geometry of the fretboard, and on understanding the relationship between the strings without immediately trying to do something insane.

At that point, it wasn't about impressing anyone.

7. You've already played it at gigs. What was it like playing it live for the first time?

Terrifying! Hahahahahaha.

The Railboard is very unforgiving. If your attack is wrong, the note might not come out properly. If your finger lands badly, it sounds awful. Move just a little too far and suddenly you're on the wrong string.

And besides... just look at it! There are strings and frets everywhere. When you're still learning, it's surprisingly easy to lose your visual position on the instrument.

That first night, my hands were literally shaking from the nerves. But there comes a point when you have to leave the safety of practicing at home and take the risk.

You just have to go for it.

So I did.

And surviving that first encounter with an audience completely changed my relationship with Morisilmë.

8. How does the audience react when they see you playing it live?

Usually, I imagine the first reaction is something like: “What the hell is that thing?” Hahahahaha.

And I love that.

We all immediately understand the visual language of a guitar or bass: the instrument is horizontal, one hand here, the other hand there. Then suddenly Morisilmë appears, completely vertical, and I'm attacking the fretboard with both hands.

Even before people understand what they're hearing, visually it already looks strange.

And that's something I really enjoy about bringing it onstage. For a few minutes, people become curious again. They're trying to figure out what the hell they're looking at.

9. Your fans know that you named it Morisilmë. What does that name mean?

This is where my Tolkien obsession comes into the story.

Morisilmë means “The Starlight of Darkness.”

But I didn't want to simply give my instrument a name that sounded Tolkien-esque. I wanted it to have its own legend.

So I imagined that, long before the Sun and Moon existed, when Middle-earth was illuminated only by the stars of Varda, one of those stars fell silently upon Beleriand. Its blackened heart eventually found its way to Doriath and, within this little piece of lore I created, Eöl used that material to forge Aranrúth and Anglachel. But one final fragment remained, and it refused to become a sword, a piece of armor, a spear, or any other weapon.

Until Eöl finally understood why:

It had not descended into Arda to shed blood. It had descended to make music.

And so Morisilmë was born.

In my story, its surface is black like the sky between the constellations, but from within it emerge delicate blue-green points and lines, almost like pathways of stars. Eventually, its music even becomes intertwined with the story of Lúthien Tinúviel.

Obviously, this is mythology created by me as a fan, not Tolkien canon. But that's exactly what makes it fun.

My Railboard is black, strange, almost otherworldly, and capable of producing sounds that none of my other instruments can make.

So I didn't want to simply give it a name.

10. Which song is the easiest to play on Morisilmë so far — if we can even use the word “easy” — and which is the hardest?

“Easy” and “Morisilmë” are still two words I have a hard time putting in the same sentence. Hahahahahaha.

Interestingly, the new CYGNUS song — whose title I can't reveal yet — has felt relatively natural to play because it was composed from the very beginning with the Railboard in mind. Instead of taking music written for another instrument and trying to adapt it, this time the Railboard was part of the composition process from the moment the song was born.

At the other end of the spectrum is “Dreams of Adventure.”

That one is always a challenge and demands concentration every single time I play it.

And there's something I'm beginning to understand about Morisilmë: learning a song doesn't necessarily mean you've mastered it.

Sometimes it simply means that today, the instrument agreed to let you play it. Hahahahahaha.

11. What songs would you like to learn to play on it?

All of them!

Seriously. I've deliberately tried to learn music from many different styles. I've even worked on quite a lot of Spanish-language and Latin American rock because it forces me to develop subtlety in my hands, Latin rhythms and phrasing.

Not everything has to be progressive madness, folk and metal.

But of course... there are still a few monsters waiting in the distance.

I'd love to properly tackle “New Millennium” by Dream Theater, and eventually some Liquid Tension Experiment material.

Those are the kinds of songs that seem to stare at you from across the room and say:

“Not yet.”

But... well...

We'll see about that.

12. Has anyone ever come up to you after a concert to ask about Morisilmë? What do they usually ask, and what do you tell them?

Yes, absolutely. And it's really funny because Morisilmë creates a huge amount of curiosity.

After some shows, people have come up to me asking all kinds of things: “What is that?”, “What's it called?”, “Is it a bass?”, “Is it a guitar?”, “How the hell do you play that thing?” Hahahahaha. For someone who has never seen a Stick before, I completely understand why it looks insane.

I also get a lot of compliments, and of course I'm very grateful for them. It's wonderful to know that something you've invested so many hours of practice into can surprise someone or catch their attention.

But I try not to lose sight of something important: music is meant to be enjoyed, not used as an excuse to glorify yourself because you happen to play a strange or difficult instrument.

Morisilmë can be visually impressive, sure, but ultimately that's secondary. If, after a few minutes, people stop wondering “What the hell is that instrument?” and simply start enjoying the music coming out of it, then I think I'm doing things right.

13. Which other Chapman Stick or Railboard players have particularly caught your attention or influenced the way you approach the instrument?

There are several, but if I had to name the main ones, I'd say Greg Howard, Bob Culbertson and Tony Levin. And what's interesting is that they fascinate me for completely different reasons.

Greg Howard is an absolute beast. His approach strikes me as very academic, extremely disciplined and almost obsessive when it comes to technique. You watch what he does and think, “OK... there are years and years of work behind this.” He's one of those musicians who makes you understand just how far the instrument can be pushed technically.

Bob Culbertson fascinates me for another reason: the sheer number of resources he manages to extract from the Stick. His arrangements and adaptations of well-known pieces show how the instrument can become almost an entire musical universe by itself. That interests me enormously because it isn't simply about playing lots of notes; it's about discovering completely different ways of using them.

And then there's Tony Levin... who's crazy. Hahahahaha.

To me, he's probably the most experimental of the three. I love the fact that he often seems to approach the Stick without worrying too much about what you're supposed to do with it. He uses it to discover sounds, textures and possibilities. There's something incredibly free about the way he understands the instrument.

All three have been playing this instrument for more than 25 years and have reached an extraordinary level of mastery. So comparing myself to them would be absurd. I'm only beginning to walk my own path, and for now I want to take it slowly, enjoy it, and approach it with the same honesty they brought to their own journeys.

There are many other incredible Stick players, of course, but those three represent things that particularly interest me: Howard's technique, Culbertson's resources and arrangements, and Levin's almost rule-free experimentation.

And I suppose I'm trying to find my own place somewhere in that strange space between all of those things.

14. Any additional thoughts, experiences or words you'd like to share?

You practice. A lot. For many, many hours.

And yes, sometimes it's incredibly frustrating. But I've learned that you simply have to become more stubborn than the frustration.

Maybe that's one of the most beautiful things about this whole experience: discovering that something that seemed physically impossible a few months ago suddenly just happens one day. Not because the instrument became easier, but because, little by little, your hands changed and your brain changed.

And strangely enough, Morisilmë hasn't really been an experience about impressing the people who follow CYGNUS or follow my work.

It's been something much more personal.

I'm still discovering this instrument like a child, trying to understand its patterns, its shapes, its logic... what I sometimes jokingly call “the sacred geometry of Morisilmë.”

There's always some relationship between the strings that I hadn't noticed before. A new fingering. A different sound.

And I think that's exactly why I'm still so fascinated by it.

I'm not trying to reach the end.

I'm enjoying getting lost.