I recently released my first new track in over 5 years. A friend asked me what drew me back and... I realized I hadn't really thought much about it. So I wanted to think about it and write about it in case anyone else happened to be curious.

Why I Stopped

I never consciously decided to stop making music. For years after graduating with my Master's degree, I struggled to consistently put out new music. Often the music I did write, I was not all that happy with. I got hired for a couple of movies, I had a couple of discounted commissions from friends, I did some arranging. I never reached my goal writing anything for a commercial game.

I also taught music theory at my alma mater, where I struggled to find my footing, especially when I was thrown into teaching second year music theory. The way the curriculum was structured, there were right and wrong answers, but the way I wrote music, there was only "what effect does this have on the listener"; these were always neutral decisions. I'd gone so far afield in that brain zone that I struggled to find my way back to the structure of the modern study of Romantic music. I also realized that speaking to a room of late-teens and early-twenty-somethings was not how I wanted to be spending the rest of my working days. Not to mention, being adjunct faculty with no interest in pursuing a doctorate, I had zero possibility of anything resembling upward mobility; as a matter of fact, my chances of getting laid off were pretty staggering.

So I quit and decided to learn programming, and basically left behind music entirely. Not just in my professional life, but in my personal life as well. I was just so burnt out at trying to convince people that my music was worth paying money for, that I became burnt out on making it at all. It hadn't been bringing me joy, and it apparently (to my knowledge) hadn't been bringing others joy, so it just wasn't worth spending time on.¹

Why I Started Again

In 2023 (I think?), my mentor and friend Bruce Hamilton reached out and asked if I'd be interested in playing some music with him. I was quite hesitant at first, but agreed; I missed seeing folks, and it seemed relatively low-pressure. It turned out to be even more fun than I had anticipated. Bruce had an established audience, he wrote rad music I could be proud to be a part of, I was playing with other skilled friends, the parts were within my skill level... I felt like I could finally have fun with music again.

I played as part of the Jostaberry live band for a couple of years. We recorded a number of tracks semi-live in the studio. I mostly played bass (something I hadn't done much since my time in my late high school band The Situation). We played live a few times. I even wrote a track or two (I might release one of them myself eventually...).

Then, I got a dog.

Now, I'd heard that dogs (especially puppies) were challenging, and I believed it, and thought I was well-prepared. But I hadn't actually had a dog myself since I was 4 years old. So when we brought Denny home, I was completely floored by how much energy it took to take care of him. If I could do it over again, I'd absolutely adopt him, but I do wish I could have prepared a little bit differently (see also: better). My time in Jostaberry had to come to a regrettably sudden conclusion.

Uprooting Some Core Issues

...But I quickly started missing making music. I had fiddled around in DAWs several times over the years, trying to recapture the joy I initially felt making music, but I seemed to have trouble making anything I was happy with.

I have been in therapy off and on for many years now, having seen several different therapists to help with several different issues. One thing that I hadn't quite dealt with yet, though, was the attitude that I had around music making since I was a teenager.

I don't know how it came about exactly, but every time I approached a new song, I seemed to semi-consciously think to myself, "This is going to be my masterpiece. Twenty years from now, people are going to look back at my output and say, 'This was a turning point in her musical output.'" It was completely delusional. I always kept it to myself, but it shaped my entire attitude around the music-making progress. It was so high-stakes. This new string quartet, this new flute solo, this new electroacoustic miniature, this new pop song, this new horror soundtrack... every new piece I wrote would be The One.

So years later, when I was out of practice and had little creative time to myself, I would end up paralyzed with a level of perfectionism impossible to fulfill. "WHY CAN'T I MAKE A MASTERPIECE?!?" It's absurd in retrospect.

I can't point to any particular moment this shifted, but eventually I realized "...I just need to make something dumb." I made some short things I probably will never finish or put out there. I improvised on the piano. Learned Persona tracks and Kessoku Band songs. At some point I just... felt ready to write something simple I could share with folks. But I was pretty sure I'd have to force my own hand.

So I posted on Bluesky.

I will release a song in January.

— June Bash (@june.bash.pizza) December 26, 2025 at 1:29 PM

And I got to work.

Conclusion??

I don't think "are you losing sleep?" is a masterpiece. For perhaps the first time, I didn't try to make it one. I don't even know if it's all that good. I don't really care. I feel freer, and I'm finally enjoying writing music again.