“Just Different” is the moment in Richard Green’s trilogy where the camera zooms in on the teenage version of yourself—the one who never quite fit, who thought “different” meant “wrong.” Splitting his time between Milan and London, Green has been building a reputation as a shape-shifter, writing everything from neoclassical pieces to dance, techno, and chillout.
Here, he leans into his classical roots with a twist, teaming up with Italian pianist Irene Veneziano and the Archimia string quartet to create a piece that feels like chamber music that’s been out drinking with blues and jazz.
Part of the wider narrative of A Journey, “Just Different” dives into that fragile adolescence phase: when you feel off to the side of everyone else, not “enough,” and haven’t yet realised that being out of step is exactly what makes you human. It’s the most experimental cut in the project, and you can hear Green deliberately blurring boundaries—classical rigour on one hand, smoky jazz harmony on the other, as if Erik Satie wandered into a late-night club by mistake and decided to stay.
The song opens with thick, slow, heavy strings and deep tones of piano playing and building. Violins come writhing its tender, high tones amidst the heavy, full-bodied dance of the piano and deep strings. It’s like a conversation and an argument, almost, before it frolics.
As it unfolds, you can feel how demanding it must have been to play: the piano pushes, the strings pull, sometimes clashing, sometimes moving as one, like the inner tug-of-war between insecurity and self-belief.
By the end, “different” doesn’t sound like a flaw anymore. It feels like a hard-won badge. “Just Different” may be a single piece in a three-part story, but it stands on its own as a bold, bittersweet reminder that the parts of us that never quite blend in are usually the ones worth turning up.
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Review by: Naomi Joan