⚠️ BY THE WAY: I might personify an accordion in this article, but I do NOT claim object sentience. I am mentally very healthy and social, and I just happen to have object empathy and high imagination. This makes me project personalities on objects, but NOT see them as literally alive, thanks.
A Musical Child
Ever since I moved out, I’ve really gotten in touch with my inner child. I’ve been giving him everything he wants (as long as it doesn’t make us broke). I am listening to the desires of that inner little kid, Mark, who felt wonder towards various things.
One of these desires was instruments, and specifically free reed instruments like accordions, melodicas, or harmonicas.
FUN FACT: One of my favourite songs as a child was Penguin Cafe Orchestra’s Music For A Found Harmonium.
The artist literally found a harmonium (it’s a species of pump organ) in 1982 in a Kyoto backstreet, brought it to a friend’s house and made the melody!
I mostly liked the song because of how beautiful the harmonium sounded to me, all the reedy brilliance it had.
As an adult, I also like the story behind it, as I, too, am a guy who finds and collects weird abandoned objects!
The same inner child loved music, would occasionally play with toy keyboards and Garageband Loops, or mutter nonsense. I was inherently musical, all the way since then. I didn’t get any formal music theory knowledge, but I improvised and listened to music a lot.
Something, sometime, had happened when I was still a kid in elementary school, and I suddenly became embarrassed by musical expression.
I kept trying not to think too much about it, or even avoid the whole idea of practicing music entirely when I still lived with my parents.
Even just by thinking about doing music, something would feel inherently embarrassing or exposing to unwanted criticism or even expectations I didn’t want imposed on me.
Various Attempts at Music
My first attempt to use a musical instrument, when I was an easily embarrassed teen, involved making my own instrument.
I really liked melodicas from all the way back in 2021, but felt embarrassed about wanting one, because of all the sarcasm I experienced from some people close to me, so I ended up inventing the MeloDIYca.
This elaborate and ingenious gizmo was a literal spare Apple Bluetooth keyboard that I loosely decorated with paper and connected to GarageBand desktop. It would play pre-recorded melodica music from GarageBand’s default instrument presets.
I thought this would have satisfied my urge to get a reed instrument, while also not making a sound inside my parents’ house.
It was very limited, and I was actually dreaming of getting the real thing, basically a real melodica. I was targeting the Suzuki Melodion M-37C Plus at the time as well, interestingly.
I EVEN MADE A FUCKING MELODICA PROPAGANDA POSTER FOR MYSELF
I was so obsessed with the whole idea of getting a melodica that I was legit simulating the existence of a melodica. Photoshopping one in photos, having drawn the life-size keys of my dream melodica on a sketchbook, and even learning things about melodicas and music theory (for a little while before forgetting everything).
Musical Evolution
To my past self’s disappointment, I didn’t get a melodica for at least 4 years after that fixation. Not because I couldn’t find the money for it, but more because I couldn’t find the courage to pull it off.
I bought a harmonica somewhere in 2023, as another attempt at music. I liked the sound a LOT, but I would find it both hard to practice and also challenging to find a specific time to practice without any other family member at home. “I will practice outside, maybe”, I thought to myself, but never did it.
It was in 2025, and especially on my 18th birthday, when I ACTUALLY FOR REALSIES GOT A MELODICA. That melodica was Mel, a 70s Suzuki Melodion M-36. It was my favourite birthday gift ever, which I bought for myself when I was living in my own house.
I’ll not write down everything in detail when it comes to Mel (I’ll write a separate article about him), but here is a TL;DR:
I had found the GUTS to buy a melodica and HAD LOTS OF FUN WITH HIM. I played around by winging it, I followed tutorials from YouTube, copied tunes I liked by ear and felt as if, with literal consistent practice, I could play almost everything. I had a REALLY AWESOME TIME.
I enjoyed my time with Mel so much that I even drew him as a melodica person, a literal humanoid object who speaks with reeds instead of vocal chords and isn’t a human despite being able to experience emotions like one.
The Call Of the Bellows
After around 4 months of having enjoyed my experience with melodicas (I speak in plural because I found more melodicas at the garbage market), I craved something bigger and louder. My experience with Mel was very familiar, intimate and beautiful, but I still wanted to explore a bit while still having him as my main instrument.
While I was having this craving somewhere deep inside, I remember the time when I really felt it during a visit to a pawn shop. I was disappointed after going to a vinyl market event and not finding a single cassette tape, and I went all the way to Monastiraki to see pawn shops and to window shop.
I was walking for about 2 hours around Monastiraki, searching for pawn shops. I was scanning the area for messy stores that wouldn’t ask for both my eyeballs, all my teeth and both my kidneys for a Walkman or some weird instrument.
I wasn’t having any luck, and I kept going in strange central Athens areas with dimly lit streets and weird Chinese multi-stores. I tried to turn around to find my way back, and I noticed pawn shops inside a strange market, one that was devoid of stalls because it was evening.
I was in AWE of what I saw; all around me were forgotten objects with history inside them and personalities. They were even hanging from the fucking CEILING.
I saw SO many things there, I saw lots of harmonicas, a jukebox, paintings, tapes or even a 70s Polaroid instant camera (I have one, but I was surprised)! However, what absolutely fucked me up to see was something that initially belonged to my dreams:
I SAW A HARMONIUM AND ACCORDIONS AT THE PAWN SHOP.
I only have this picture of the harmonium (I was such an idiot not to take photos of the accordions). It is shaky because I was vibrating in place like I was going to launch like a space shuttle into orbit out of excitement:
I REALLY wanted to play it, but other people were around, and I had the fear that if I messily poke the harmonium, then it’s gonna give the impression that I am bad at music (which, frankly, I kinda am currently, as I am an amateur beginner who is winging it).
I wanted to look a bit mysterious back then, but certainly if I saw it again, I WOULD HAVE PLAYED THE THING. Megalovania on harmonium, what else could I ask for?
The harmonium fantasy had dissipated quickly, however, because the seller priced it between 300-200 euro, and also because I eventually learned that harmoniums are typically played while sitting on the floor, and the bellows pumping movement is awkward.
Something else messed me up that evening, and it wasn’t the harmonium. I went inside the shop and was even allowed to go upstairs. And there I had seen everything: I saw a light blue, plain, old accordion stuck under other things.
I can’t find an exact visual match for it, as much as I wish to show you, but from what I remember, it was light blue, like a summer day’s sky, with white details. It was old and had rectangular corners. It looked boring compared to most accordions that had glittery skins. I was too shy to try to unearth and play it, but a seed was planted after I saw it.
It had already been about 1 to 1.5 hours at the pawn shop, 8:30PM, and I was hungry, so I bought a few thingamajigs and left. Specifically, I bought an old, traditional Hohner O Fado Portuguez tremolo harmonica, a thingmabob (there is no other way to describe the weird spring thing) and a 60s-70s Hohner Alto melodica.
The pawn shop seller also did something that mildly pissed me off: I told him that the melodica was damaged because I saw a missing spit valve (very common for this kind of melodica), and expressed that the functionality is questionable. His response was to legit grab that dirty melodica with ancient grime on it and play it in front of me with his other hand covering the spit valve hole.
I only said “Ah okay I guess it works-” out of sheer surprise and admiration that he put THAT THING that was lying in the DIRT in his MOUTH. When I went home, I had to sanitise EVERY CORNER before even THINKING of putting my lips around the mouthpiece.
The Siren Song
What really remained on my mind after that pawn shop trip in February wasn’t the items I bought, but the mere sight of a harmonium and accordions that I experienced in person. I felt interested in buying a secondhand accordion.
It seemed like a distant goal, since the starting price of accordions is 150 euro, in questionable, abandoned condition (I’ve also heard that they are ass to be repaired). I was thinking of it as merely a “Birthday gift for myself” for when I’d be supposedly mentally and economically ready to own one.
Nevertheless, I still put my grabby paws inside Vendora (an online marketplace local to Greeks and other Balkan countries) to check what listings there were that had accordions in them. Most of them would cost anything between 500 and 1200 euro.
And then the corner of my eye saw something unbelievable: A kind of messed up old-ass accordion, monochrome black and gold, with art-deco-esque lining, and a WOODEN REPLACEMENT KEY listed for 120 euro.
The description said “Used accordion, in good condition. All keys work normally.”
This is how I felt when I saw the most rugged, badass-looking, sexiest pirate-ass accordion I had ever seen in my whole life:
I was in absolute AWE of what I saw.
I tried to rationalise my thoughts and hold myself back by attempting to think of the challenges and disadvantages this object would have, such as:
- If ANY feature or part is broken, it will cost more than the accordion itself to fix it.
- If I try to fix it myself, there’s an extremely high possibility of screwing up.
- Physically heavy and takes a lot of space. It’s not a person, but a ROOMMATE.
- You can’t see the accordion’s keys when playing it, and you need to apply physical force to pump it, which makes it a challenging instrument, NOT FOR BEGINNERS.
Despite all the attempts to snap out of it, I kept returning to this listing multiple times a week over THREE MONTHS.
As much as I was practising restraint, I kept coming back to this guy.
Each time I felt bored, dissatisfied, upset, or generally experiencing a feeling of lacking something, I opened Vendora and stared at that fucking pirate accordion while imagining how nice it would have been to own him and master him.
This was the most common version of this fantasy:
Just me and the accordion existing in the room, sitting on the couch. Feeling the weight and the sound vibrations against my body. Making rich, intense accordion sounds and getting immersed. Time moves slowly. The air smells like old accordion, basically old books and aged wood.
Dragging long notes, or even a long time later, being able to play songs I like. Time itself is nonexistent, only accordion focus and enjoyment being present. Feeling embraced by the accordion, nearly being part of it.
I Gave In
The urge to get an accordion and specifically that one had become very strong. Mentally, that accordion was part of my life even without having bought it. I was thinking about him more than Mel (the melodica) at times. So much that I even made this doodle:
Last week, and precisely on Tuesday, May 19th, I ordered the damn accordion for 100 euro.
The siren song won.
I texted the seller and asked if I could get it shipped to me instead of having to go all the way to the seller’s physical location for pickup, and she confirmed that it was possible, so I IMMEDIATELY sent the money instead of waiting for some minutes to really think about it.
For a moment, I couldn’t believe I actually made the decision to bring such an object into my life, as there are both advantages and disadvantages to my decision.
The seller lady had given me some reassuring information about him, though, which made my mind feel comforted on top of the excitement:
- He came from a house where he was stored well and is in good condition
- All keys work
- Belonged to a music teacher in the past (and with the visible repairs, it means most likely that he was in good hands and serviced multiple times)
Now, after having paid the seller’s electric bill for the month, I was supposed to sit quietly and wait as a normal person would.
Accordion Yearnings
I did NOT sit quietly and wait as a normal person would.
Not at ALL.
I became physically restless because of how much I was thinking of that accordion. Since I already developed a connection, I even gave him a name. I call him Blackjack. I am not a big fan of the card game, but I just really felt the name clicked with his dark, worn, intimidating presence.
I couldn’t stop thinking about the moment when I’ll finally go home with him inside the parcel, unbox him, adjust the straps, wear him, and fill the room with various reedy, resonant accordion sounds. Accordion singing, especially the bass notes, going through my chest, as he is going to be legit strapped to my body.
It feels powerful and oddly intimate, the whole experience of having an old, wooden, air-powered machine strapped to your chest, one that has the weight of a medium-sized microwave. Making loud, room-filling sound with it that sounds like a small-sized reed organ.
In general, accordions sound melancholic, dramatic, intense. I was pulled to the sound they would make all the way since I was a child, despite feeling secondhand embarrassment from how vulnerable it felt to play such a thing.
The sound and feel of such an accordion from what is probably the 40s-50s is deeply special as well. The aged wood is heavy, the bellows smell like old books, and the sound has imperfections. What is there not to love about a hauntingly beautiful survivor accordion like Blackjack?
It became IMPOSSIBLE for me to fully focus at work the entire time after ordering him. I couldn’t focus on anything else but the feel of old accordion wood against my chest and the beautiful sounds that would fill my house as soon as he arrives.
This is a visual representation of how I felt this week while constantly daydreaming about accordion beauty while having to focus on data entry at work:
I kept thinking about the textures, the sound, the techniques, the physicality and everything, and all the possibilities of owning an accordion.
My emotional reaction was legit as if I was crushing on someone.
I was so focused on my accordion-related thoughts and research that I would skip meals, sleep later than usual, forget to talk to most of my friends, neglect my art projects and other instruments, or even wake up and immediately think of Blackjack. The best way to word it is that, for real, I had a crush on an accordion.
Exposure Therapy
Blackjack also holds a lot of symbolic meaning in my life based on my struggles, really.
An accordion possesses traits that SCARE THE LIVING SHIT out of people who hated being in the spotlight. Deep inside, I am one, especially with music. An accordion is loud, visually awkward to play and unsubtle.
When it comes to music, I am still nervous even at the thought of playing anything in front of someone else, no matter how much I will get to practice, especially in front of my family.
I am uncertain of what the root of this fear is, but as a child after I was around 6 years old, I would legit physically run away when I was invited to sing, dance or perform anything, even in relatively safe settings like home.
I felt like if I performed badly or imperfectly, people would assume this is my whole image as a musician or as a person and flatten my identity into that moment. It’s kind of messed up, I know, but sadly it happened because I felt judged and misinterpreted a LOT inside my family environment.
My nervous system learned that, generally, expressing myself with music, in all its forms (singing, dancing, playing an instrument), was unsafe, and that my effort and practice that I would have done to perform it would NOT be considered.
It was so bad that even when I saw street performers, professional musicians, or even my own fucking family singing, I would look away. I was putting myself in their shoes and felt like it was extremely vulnerable to do what they did.
It’s likely that I wasn’t directly told by a family member that I suck at music, and I also have a really good relationship with them, but something inside me kept feeling like vulnerable expression would be misunderstood and reduced to something that it’s not.
Blackjack is THREATENING this exact part of me that wouldn’t even dare look at street musicians out of secondhand embarrassment, the scared kid that would run away when asked to dance at the family gathering, the nervous adult who will fumble a song the moment he’s feeling watched and evaluated.
The act of getting one of the LOUDEST and messiest instruments ever made, to play it inside the safety of my own house, away from judging eyes, is therapeutic. It’s exposure therapy, as I’ll be able to reclaim the loud and messy instrument as musically safe.
I could practice playing the accordion inside my safe weirdness nest, without feeling as if someone was inside my house, watching me, and assuming things about me based on how I perform.
Certainly, I could also share some things here, on this website, from my music practices, to bless your eyes and ears. We will see!
The Accordion Person
Inside the strong waves of passion and excitement for the upcoming accordion roommate, I managed to do something beautiful that I only do when I am obsessed enough with something: I created a humanoid accordion form for Blackjack/Jack.
This is the first actual concept art sketch of him:
Quite possibly, I haven’t designed a character this fast in my life.
Blackjack is pretty much a sentient accordion humanoid pirate machine. He was created to entertain rich people on Earth, but got sick of it and then went rogue with other humanoid objects and got a found family.
He became part of a pirate ship, and his role was to maintain and guard the ship from intruders and to also entertain the people there.
Here is a colored concept art of him:
And here is a shaded artwork, LOOK AT HIM:
I personally find this design really clever and gorgeously inhuman despite the human likeness, as he can move and behave in ways that don’t align with humanhood and actually show that he is a sentient accordion entity.
He also makes accordion noises when he moves, no matter the kind of movement. However, he can also do a special dance where he can control his sounds and produce rich and complex accordion music.
The sound comes out of the grill on his chest, and he bends in shapes and positions that are inhumanly possible.
The act of wiggling is something his species enjoys doing instinctively, as accordions (according to my imagination) reproduce asexually by influencing humans around them with their music to make more accordions. He kept this behavior naturally.
Here is a visual representation of the wiggle in sketch:
Just to clarify, the wiggle is not sexual. Please don’t assume weird shit about it. It’s just an accordion species thing where they make sound by wiggling instead of singing like humans or other instrument people. They are MADE for music.
Accordion Enrichment
While I was allocating all my brain resources to obsess over Blackjack the 40s accordion, I also got to learn technical and cultural information about accordions in general.
I watched multiple tutorials for playing accordions on YouTube, and noticed techniques for hand placement, strap settings, finger placement, and everything else.
I even looked up music with accordions in it, and found some really good playlists on Spotify for discovering music, like accordion bangers by mark and Songs with the accordion in it :D by Mr. Pink.
My personal favorite song that I found and keep looping is Instrumental by Merfolk:
It really captures the sentimental, calming tone of the accordion, which is very contrasting to the overall stereotypes that have been associated with accordions. Accordions can whisper too, and not just scream. This song, which sounds like a lullaby, proves it.
During this time, when I was distracted from everything but Blackjack, I generally felt like I absorbed knowledge and perspectives about accordions like a sponge. It may be worth it, or maybe not, who knows?
I even got so obsessed with him that I even made him into a Discord emoji and changed my Discord status to “Hrrrrrrrmmmmmmm” (onomatopoeia of an accordion sound):
I Don’t Have Him Yet
As of now, Blackjack is still in the ELTA shipping process and I don’t have him in my arms. I am deeply excited about his arrival but also nervous, or slightly anxious about it.
I am excited because I clearly yearn for the accordion bliss, and I am nervous because the logistics of bringing him home might be awkward. And by that I mean, he is going to be heavy and will arrive at my workplace, where my brother and dad are present.
On the one hand, I imagine the thrill, pure joy and connection I’ll feel as soon as I get him and all the interesting possibilities of what he will feel and sound like. He is mysterious, too.
On the other hand, I’ve been judged by my family in the past when it comes to my financial decisions or passions, and when a huge mysterious box arrives at my name, and they get to see it, I will possibly get a not so great reaction out of them, and will possibly need to white lie about it being something else.
I will impatiently wait for his arrival and try not to freak out too much on Monday when he will most likely appear.
I’ll maybe soon write an article about what the first encounter is going to be like! Stay tuned!
Sunday update: I am VERY excited because he is very likely going to arrive tomorrow holy SHIT. I AM FREAKING OUT.