One Month In and One Year Later: A Journey Worth Celebrating

It was just about a year ago when I wrote a reflection on 2023, so I figured I’d do it again this year. It’s hard to put into words how it feels to look back on this past year. At this time last year, I was sitting in my living room, recording It Can Be Difficult Sometimes with a broken hand. That project was raw, uncertain, and deeply personal—a first step back into music after nearly 30 years of silence. It wasn’t about perfection or even knowing where it might lead, but about finding a way to express something real.

Since then, the journey has continued to unfold in unexpected ways. I’ve faced challenges that felt insurmountable at times, from finally unraveling decades of mental health struggles to facing crippling moments of doubt and rediscovering my relationship to music. Also during this past year, I took my second trip to Peru, sitting with Ayahuasca and working with the medicine to peel back layers of fear, pain, and old narratives (more on that later). Over the past year—and even the past four years—releasing four EPs and a full-length album has been part of this process of growth and healing. Each project has been a step toward reconnecting with myself and learning to be present in the creative process, which is why it has been so satisfying to be on the other side of releasing this album (as I’ve mentioned before).

In the first month of Where’ve You Been?, the album has been streamed 3,558 times across Spotify and SoundCloud, with additional listeners on Apple Music and YouTube. On Spotify alone, 72 listeners have spent time with it—on average, over 14 streams each—adding tracks to 15 playlists and saving them 182 times. Knowing that these songs are being heard and connecting with people is something I’m deeply grateful for, and quite humbled by.

I didn’t create this album to chase any kind of external validation, even if I do want people to hear my music. If there is a “victory” to be had, though, it was in going through the process of creating itself. Each song represents a step in my healing, self-discovery, and learning to express myself again. Every crackle, every unpolished take, every moment of vulnerability captured on this record is a testament to what it’s taken to reach this point.

What strikes me most, though, as I reflect on the past year is the realization that I’ve never really been alone—even in the moments when I thought I was. Danielle’s persistence, love, and care have been a constant through every twist and turn, even when I wasn’t sure I deserved it. Her belief in my ability to grow, her willingness to hold space for my process, and her refusal to let me give up have been as much a part of this album as any note I played or lyric I wrote. Without her, I’m not sure I would have made it here.

So I’m feeling pretty chuffed—not in a loud or boastful way, but in a quiet, deeply personal way. Proud of the work I’ve done, proud to have shared it, and proud to see it finding its way into the world. And while I don’t measure success by streams or saves, I do hope that more people get to experience this music—not for the sake of fame or recognition, but because connection is at the heart of everything I do.

As I look to the future, I’m excited to take the next steps in this journey. Playing live again is something I’m eager to explore—it’s been almost 30 years, but I’m ready to reconnect to music in that new but so familiar way. I’m also looking forward to meeting more musicians and maybe collaborators who share a love for raw, honest music, to bring new energy and perspectives into the creative process. Musically, my next project will be inspired by my Vermont roots—not the postcard version of Vermont, but the one I lived and grew up in, shaped by influences that were intrinsic to being raised here. Those experiences weren’t always idyllic, but they were real, and they’ve left their mark on me in ways I’m still uncovering. As I step into this next chapter, I’m holding onto the lessons of this year: that imperfection is a gift, that vulnerability is strength, that I’ve never been as alone as I sometimes felt, and that every step forward, no matter how small, is worth celebrating.

Thank you to everyone who has listened, shared, and supported this album. And thank you, Danielle, for walking this path with me. Your presence and love have made all the difference.

If you haven’t listened to Where’ve You Been? yet, I’d be honored if you did. All of my music is available on the following services:

Apple Music
BandCamp
Spotify
YouTube

Here’s to what’s next.

Sabin 🎶