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About a year and some change ago, I released D'MoGro to the public. It was an album three years in the making about my musical journey to love my own imperfections in the face of professional music -- surgically honed and exaltingly dressed -- by expressing myself through making content I could be proud of. It has been a gradual uphill climb filling the shoes of who I am today. Now, a new milestone has been hit. In just a few days over a year, I have another full CD's worth of music done. And it's my best yet.

With songs of life ("Demetri", "The Forest for the Trees", "Don't Stop Moving"), death ("The Pre-Winter Interim"), love ("I'll Meet You There", "Naomi"), lust ("D&S"), love lost ("Tiffany"), covers ("Love Thing", "Kiss from a Rose"), an adaptation ("I Will Live Again"), songs I first made nearly a decade ago ("Deleted My Heart", "Good Night, Light. See Later", "The Wonders of Math (Hidden Track)"), songs I wrote years ago and only just now made ("Demetri", "Lost My Mind", "Loose Lips"), songs i started writing years ago and only just recently finished and made ("Murder Circadia", "The Pre-Winter Interim", "Don't Stop Moving") many songs I wrote just in the last year (figure it out), eight (count 'em, eight!) bonus tracks, and that one song about... well... ("Hitler's Haircut"), (Even) Mo D'Gro embodies another broad array of musical diversity rivaling that of D'MoGro and continuing the same trend of perpetual, winding growth.

I consider myself a serious musician, although certainly not a professional one. As a friend told me recently about D'MoGro, "I love how your personality shines through your songs." Being told my songs express my personality is, to me, a far bigger compliment than being told I produced it well. I embrace the messiness of some of my songs, in lieu of neurotically controllingly trying to clean it up.

Once upon a time, when I was but a wee lad learning the ins and outs of music editing software, I was hooked and in love. I produced stuff I was so proud of at the time -- even though overall it was a bunch of crap made of loops and mild editing at best. Then, a few years down the line, a certain crushing weight fell upon me -- an awareness of just how astonishingly well-produced most music you hear is. I compared myself to the other and I felt ashamed. I retreated from producing music in a fit of fear and insecurity. I colloquially to myself call this period of time "The Pre-Summer Interim." I still wrote, planned, and dreamed of music, but did not produce it, ashamed that it could not meet nor represent the bar set by my dreams. Music back in these days was, to me, an escape, a fantasy, a little mental hideaway to indulge myself in.

I have slowly been shedding this false sarcophagus of peril, first with Experimental Demos, like an unfinished butterfly tapping at its chrysalis, and later with D'MoGro, like a fully fledged butterfly that just cracked its cocoon. Now, with (Even) Mo' D'Gro, I flap my wings full-gale for the first time.

The next flap will be stronger.

Not just the making of music, but the exploration of my personal journey of making music has been a journey in itself. This meta-analytical (OH HERE I GO, GETTING DEEP BRUH) journey-within-a-journey is what (Even) Mo' D'Gro is all about. Inception bwaaaaa.

In other words, I grow, and I am self-aware of my growth. I make music, and I am self-aware of my musical development, both mental and physical. I am self-aware of my self-awareness. Now, back to the autobiography.

As I've transformed from my self-critical, unconfident, lesser skilled younger self into my older, stronger, more determined, more proficient older self, I've observed a lot of fascinating things both within and without me. I've developed a more devil-may-care attitude towards the world and towards my music-making. I've found an interesting balance between cynicism and optimism that seems to fit me well in navigating my life. I've learned to just make music because I do and because I love to do, not because I'm great at it and certainly not because other people think I'm great at it. In the words of Neil Gaiman, I simply "make good art." Because I do. Because it's mine to make. And if I don't make it, nobody will. And that would be sad.

Music for me has gone from being an escape to being a companion. Like a best friend, it walks beside me and helps me to learn where I am going in this life, reflecting the best parts of myself to myself. I don't listen to, create, or think about music as a way to hide from the real world or its harshness, but I wear music like a shield as a way to endure life's slings and arrows, and as a sword to better cut through them and find my way in life.

Here, have some more autobiographical backstory for context: when I was about 16 years old, I remember once I was playing piano in a music store. I recall I was playing a particularly sloppy rendition of "In the Hall of the Mountain King." I knew my skills were far from refined. I'd never been taught music and I'd never had particularly fine motor control, either. Still, I played, because I wanted to get better, even though I knew I was pretty shit. Despite my self-deprecating "knowledge," however, a young boy came up to me, not even half my height, looking up at me in awe. He asked me so excitedly how I did that.

Despite my subjectively objective overall lack of talent, this young boy saw what I was doing and could only dream to reach the level of talent I had. Meanwhile, I was looking at musicians far more talented than me, yearning to reach their level of proficiency. It shows me, beauty really is in the eye of the beholder, isn't it? Thinking negatively is an ugly habit, and there was a lot of ugliness in the eyes of this beholder. Old habits die hard, and that habit of self-defeating through demoralizing judgments is exactly the kind of tomfoolery (Even) Mo' D'Gro stands to uproot and weed out from my neurons. It's like a receipt I've printed myself for all the work I've done, proof of this transaction between myself and the universe. (Even) Mo' D'Gro is a set of footprints between D'MoGro and the present moment. After this, there will be many more footprints to go. They will be footprints made by a stronger, smarter, wiser Jub than any iteration before. I thank God that I am no longer standing still.

The ability to let go of my inhibitions and simply create for the sake of creating is like a barbell: every time I pick it up, I get better at it, until I pick it up too much and then get tired and need to let my arms rest because ow they feel like they're gonna fall off. That said, it's a process, and I've started. And I know I'm not the only one.

Andrew Huang is an artist I've admired for years. He is a self-made artist, much like myself. Unlike myself, he has established a brand, makes music professionally, and is quite prolific, paling my 80 minute CD/year personal record by comparison. However, like Andrew like all music that is produced in the world, I am not here to make music to compare to others. I am just here to walk my path and make music to impress myself, and I am confident, dear reader-listener, that like that young boy who marveled at my teenaged self in a music store, I will find an audience that admires and genuinely appreciates what I have to make. If you are not impressed, however, I am not particularly worried. I will find my proper fans just like you will find your proper content creators, if my musical fruits do not resonate with you.

In my dreamer's heyday, when I made nothing but planned everything, among the things I dreamed about was fame. I wanted fame, recognition, acceptance, admiration, acknowledgement, validation -- I wanted my starving ego fed. Perhaps this is just me justifying my ego's starvation, and perhaps that isn't a bad thing, but I realize now I definitely don't want the life of a celebrity without this sense of integrity, of centeredness, in stability. The knowledge that if the world falls to hell in a handbasket, I'll still be a steady, sturdy locomotive of self is more powerful than any audience or mere circumstance can ever grant me. Meanwhile, pop stars and [nation]'s Got Talent auditionees discipline themselves to fit the form of our culture's appetites, like fast food for the soul, an unthinkably complex process made to pump out fuel for dopamine, bringing out the lowest common denominator in our minds. (Me, cynical? Never. Sarcastic? Perish the thought.) This split between myself and the bombastically skilled, clean, polished music industry suggests to me this simple truth: we are a part of a society that's more than outdone itself. It's escaped itself. I may be wrong, and I may realize later down the line I was wrong, or maybe neither will ever happen. Either way, that is my truth as I see it today, and that's the truth I proclaim for myself, come what listeners may who appreciate that message.

I aim never to escape myself, but rather to outdo myself, and I believe I do. If the progression from Experimental Demos (and earlier) to (Even) Mo' D'Gro (and beyond) doesn't demonstrate that, nothing will.

All that said, a little fame wouldn't hurt...

[Snap back to autobiographically relevant backstory.] Not too long ago, I was listening to a truly alternative radio station which belongs to my recent alma mater. There was a song I remember hearing that sounded lo-fi. I could tell it wasn't recorded with fancy microphones or mixed or mastered with elegant editing techniques. To a listener who's used to the fleshed-out, bumped-up, flashy, glitzy, high-quality pop that bursts out on our speakers, such a song might sound ugly, tinny, or unprofessional. To me, it sounded like community. A song that was composed and recorded by musicians who loved their craft and didn't give much of a hoot about the details or the fineness of their product. They didn't want to dazzle or impress with overwhelming production value. They just wanted to make their song and play it out, humble and true. They did their best, but they didn't stress the test. They were proud to come off as amateurs. They just expressed what was in their chests and they let go of the rest, like a fruit from a tree, it just grew until it was free. It felt like home to me.

A more specific and mainstream example of this lo-fi labor of love is Gorillaz' recently released track "Hallelujah Money" featuring Benjamin Clementine. When this single was released to the public, I read comments from people saying they thought it sounded bad. "Who else thinks the new Gorillaz single 'Hallelujah Money' is complete garbage?" read a thread upvoted by 26.6 thousand people. The comments within contained an interesting debate that resonated with me personally. Gorillaz, an artist that has made a lot of professional, high-quality, hit music can still appreciate experimental, odd, intentionally unpolished music. It made me feel like a very, very small part of something bigger, a schism between those who want to rock the boat and make a healthy mess and those who want the boat to be steady, clean, and on a smooth course, and I belong decidedly to the former group.

There is so much more I could say about the world and my place in it, and what this album says about me, but perhaps I shall stop here. I've already said a rather lot, haven't I? Until next time, my manatees, just keep swimming, and don't let those nasty currents push you around :)

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