The Last Step Before Release

Thoughts before I finally share a song I've been living with for two years.

Recording is officially finished. I recorded the final vocals last week, and now the song is in the mixing stage. It’s a surreal feeling to know that my first release is not only a song I truly love, but that the recording is becoming everything I hoped it would be. After living with this song for so long, it’s hard to believe I’m finally here.

I started writing songs again in February of 2024. Before that, it had been over 10 years since I’d written anything. I honestly believed that the music part of my life was behind me. Then my mother’s Alzheimer’s disease reached a point where I could no longer process what I was feeling. I started writing songs because I didn’t know what else to do with all of it. Then, I never stopped. My mother passed away this past February. In many ways, this album is for both of us.

Recording in a traditional studio has been one of the most rewarding, and humbling, experiences of my life. My first session was terrifying. I hadn’t performed or recorded in a long time, and when I walked out that night, I told my partner I didn’t think I belonged there. I felt completely out of my league working with an engineer whose work I admire so much. Thankfully, I didn’t quit.

I’ve been fortunate to make music with many wonderful musicians over the years, and this experience has introduced me to another side of the recording process. Watching studio musicians step into a song they’ve never heard before and instinctively find exactly what it needs has been fascinating to witness. Every player has brought something unique to the music, and their contributions have helped these songs grow in ways I never expected.

One thing I wasn’t prepared for was how long the process would take. By the time this song is released, it will have been almost a year since I first walked into the studio. Making a record takes patience. There are no shortcuts if you want to create something you’re truly proud of, and I’ve learned to appreciate the slow pace.

This part feels strange. For over a year, this song has only existed in my world. I’ve heard every version of it, from the first rough demo to the final vocal take. Soon it won’t belong only to me anymore. That’s exciting and a little scary.

Writing this song was healing for me. My hope is that when it finally finds its way into the world, someone else might hear a little of their own story in it too.

I also want to say thank you. Starting this Substack has been one of the best decisions I’ve made for this creative project. Many of you have listened to rough demos, offered encouragement when I needed it, and reminded me to keep going when this process felt overwhelming. A creative pursuit like this can feel surprisingly lonely at times, but this community has made it feel like I’ve had people walking alongside me the entire way.

I’m hoping to release the song later this month. Mixing has just begun, so we’re cutting it a little close, but because the song has such a summer feel, I’m really hoping to get it out before the season slips away.

I can’t wait for you to hear it.

I think there are a lot of musicians and songwriters who never quite felt at home growing up. For some of us, the studio becomes that place where we feel accepted, valued, and understood.

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