I wrote a song that mocked me for not knowing what an EQ is. Then I shelved it for nine months, learned to produce, and finished it myself. Releasing it is my answer to my own lyrics.

I started working on this track after coming back from a vacation in Europe (Paris, Marseille, Lisbon, Sintra, Rome, Florence & Venice, to be precise — and no, I'm never doing such a sprint and calling it a vacation again). That was November 2025.

By that point, I had released a few tracks. Something was bothering me, however. I had become comfortable with the routine. Writing and performing in a similar way. Working with similar instrumentals. Running circles, basically. A part of me was becoming increasingly restless.

Rabih. You're not putting yourself in danger. I'm not happy with this. You're wasting time. Yes. That's Moudra. He's a nutcase. YOU'RE TH–.

When I make music, my favourite topic is exploring my personal battles. Finding myself at this place — pulled between comfort and a need for "danger" — was the perfect theme to explore in this new release. And what I remember enjoying the most about the whole process was how my main objective was to overcome an artistic, psychological obstacle, and how the sidequests turned into lyrics, performance practices, and eventually a finished track.

This track, therefore — like many of the ones I've made — represents an actual milestone in my growth as a person. It represented triumph. I had won over self-imposed limitations. I had won over the resistance to break into newer ways of writing and producing music.

The nine months I forgot about it

After the recording was done, however, I didn't publish it. I had other intentions for the song back then. And I didn't even send it to my engineer at the time, because I'd get too excited and want to share it immediately. So I let it sit in my files for well over 8 months. Then, while working on my first EP, I remembered this song.

After giving it a listen, I was — obviously — as happy with it as I'd been the day I made it. Except for two things:

  1. The performance was too much for the artist I've become: there was too much wanting to prove something. Which is normal every now and then.
  2. Thank God I never sent it to an engineer. A) Because I'm finally producing my own songs, so I'll work this exactly as I envision it. B) I get to re-record it the way I'd perform over it presently.

The part that still gives me chills

In some of the lyrics of RUNNING CIRCLES, you can hear:

Okay you write lyrics
Get in tune with beats
Even dropped a few pieces
But tell me about mixing
What's an EQ? And please
Don't go messing with your settings
Hoping it works like magic
That's not being hardworking
That's being tragic

At first I thought I'd keep the track in my closet for a future potential project. Turns out, I came back to it exactly when I was doing what my past self reproached me for not doing. I was producing the song myself. I was learning what an EQ is. I was doing the work. Publishing this track is the answer to those lyrics: look — I did it now. Don't you find it uncanny? Life and its beautiful mysteries. I guess that's why the more floaty, dreamy part of me firmly believes that "everything happens for a reason."

The voices underneath

The good thing is that the first recording doesn't go to waste, either. The skeleton of the song was built during it — the flow, the feel. And the more volatile energies still have potential. So what I decided to do with those takes was to place them underneath the main performances you'll hear in the track. They're still parts of me. I'll never reject myself, my journey, and what makes me who I am today. So they'll live on this track forever — just like the "staff" the masses rarely hear about, the ones who actually make the celebrities.

These voices are past versions of me. And they're full of energy. I know I'll need them every now and then — they'll just be a little more refined. And on top of being voices, they have a symbolic presence: they represent the unconscious forces present in all of us. It's that tension I wanted to capture while mixing this track. I hope you enjoy the pull from those diverse emotions.

While I've often not been the nicest person to myself, I've learned over the past few months that it wasn't a healthy approach to life. We are always with ourselves, so we might as well improve our relationship with the person who's always breathing down our neck. Maybe, as a result of that improved relationship, I learned to take it easier on myself. And naturally, I decided I might as well roll up my sleeves and do the work I was dreading. Steven Pressfield was absolutely right about the transformation we undergo when we go through what we resist the most. I would do this work one hundred times again if I can feel as grown, and as burning with passion for my craft, as I am now. Nothing else matters.

Listen

Thanks for reading — and I'd appreciate it if you'd follow me on your favourite streaming platform. Come on. It's not that huge of an ask.

I'll see you in the next piece.

Best,
Rabih