My Real Name

Farin Urlaub of Die Ärzte sounds like someone who won before he started. Cher doesn’t need anything else. Mian Mian named herself and became a legend. Even Falco, the guy born Johann Hölzel in Austria, understood that your real name is the one you choose, not the one you inherit.

I’ve been thinking about this because I don’t have one yet. The name I have—the one on documents—isn’t the name of what I’m actually doing. There’s supposed to be another one. A name that means something. A name that says who I am.

In Japan they understand this institutionally. If you’re staying, you adopt a real name—not as performance but as commitment. You give yourself a new sound and become someone to match it. That’s not rebellion; it’s just practical.

The artists who pull it off don’t seem to be asking for opinions. They’ve figured out who they are, and the name confirms it.

I’m still in the figuring-out phase. Still not sure who this person is supposed to be, what they’re actually doing, what it’s for. Maybe that’s why the name isn’t here yet. Maybe you have to know first, or maybe you choose the name and grow into it. I honestly don’t know which comes first.