#004

I don't have too much to say right now. Me second album is out this Friday and if anything I've felt a bit guilty about not having as much time to promote it. I ended up getting a job on the weekdays that takes a lot of energy out of me, but at the same time I feel less stressed about making sure the music is enough to sustain me when it's realistically hard for everyone right now. Every day I see more people with "exciting" careers supplement themselves with some other job(s) to make it all work. As tough as it is, there's something comforting about knowing we're all trying to keep doing the things that bring us fulfillment.

At the same time I think a lot of us feel spread thin. A lot of things need our attention, but it's hard to give any of it the 100% it may deserve. I'm working on being nicer to myself about this process. I can only give within my means. I can listen to what my loved ones need from me and do my best to deliver. Even though it’s a terrible habit of mine, there's not much use in beating myself up over what's outside of my control.

I made 'Floating Worlds' so I could enjoy the solitude I had after tour last year. The album is meant to unpack the feeling of disappointment and frustration I had with where the music industry is at and what I'm able to do about my own experience of it. I was realizing I could never depend on anyone, especially the bigger artists I've encountered for any advice about what to do with my own project. At the same time I was absorbing so much art and literature that made me realize it wasn't this isolated experience, and that if other people have gone through it, there's a chance I can make it to a better place too. I just needed to trust that I am on my own path.

Promoting an album can always feel a bit weird and kind of selfish, especially now when it looks like the world has much more serious things we should all be worried about. At the very least I try to focus on connecting more with people that are listening and understand what I'm trying to do with my songs. I've been building a new live set to tour with early next year. I started writing new song ideas to exercise more of what I learned from my album. All of that sort of stuff can be self-indulgent until it's shared, so I think it's important that I try to be more responsive to people that care about the art I've made. It's the very least I can do, and it helps keep the worst thoughts about being a musician away. It's so easy to worry about anything you do being enough. It's harder to keep showing love to yourself and others when it feels like so much is working against you, but doing so has never made me feel bad. Making art doesn't make me feel bad. That's what I have to keep at the front of my mind all the time, and I hope that's what people get to experience with this project.

Excited for you to finally hear it this week.

-Lu

#003

Promoting your art can feel like a contradiction at times. On one hand, it can be exciting to share the news that you've completed a long-term commitment (like finishing an album). You spend a period of your life tuning into what your art needs from you. You’re letting it shape your perspective and transform you. It's an isolating experience that I believe is necessary to finish the job sometimes. You complete the album by suppressing the outside world's noise and constant distractions. It's an act driven by a desire for self-exploration, and in the end, it's like traveling through space then returning to Earth to say "Here's what I found out there! Isn't it surreal? Doesn't it make you want to see how much further we can go? We can explore this space together. We can talk about how it’s shaping our view of the human experience."

On the other hand, we all have to deal with an overflowing saturation of voices trying to grab your attention. It feels like a cluttered antique shop where everything is yelling at you to buy an online course. There are hundreds of music fans tracking statistics and comparing artists. We've ended up in a place where an artist with millions of plays on their songs can still be deemed a failure on the surface. It's such a bizarre way to observe art. This isn't why many creators go through the trouble. It completely steals the joy of sharing what you made because it is rooted in unpredictable and constantly shifting factors that we can’t always control. It doesn't bring us any closer to a creator. It doesn’t help us understand their intentions or how they wanted their art to speak to us—it shuts us out of an experience where the art is a guide or a resting place when our current reality is so unforgiving. Even the artists who inspired me to begin my own journey in music are feeling this pressure to conform to this current social state, and I'm not really sure what to make of that.

It makes me think back to this passage from Boethius where Lady Philosophy tells him:

"In your desire to outdo others in high honor you will have to cheapen and humiliate yourself by begging."

To be clear I'm not against making content or marketing in general. Personally I enjoy making little videos and editing. I think it's a fun activity to pass the time. I don’t take it personally when things don’t perform well algorithmically, but I'm starting to understand where my boundary of interest is. I like to share the process of how I get to a finished song. I like to give away resources I've found along the way. I like to see people actually using what I share to benefit their own journey. I've never been comfortable receiving comments about how my songs helped anybody, but it does mean a lot to know that folks are not only giving their time, but taking a moment to immerse themselves in this space I initially created for myself. Being an artist can mean facing this dilemma of being thrown into an audience rather than a community whose values you resonate with. Reaching more people doesn’t really mean much without connection. You begin to realize the analytical numbers on all your apps will never be high enough if that’s where your heart places your sense of identity. You start to feel this pressure of needing to balance the isolating act of songwriting with the selfless act of sharing what you’ve created. It’s not exactly the easiest thing to do for artists!

As I'm getting deeper into the process of promoting my second album, I'm trying to keep these feelings in mind. I don't want a rush of people quickly trying to consume things on a surface level and making judgments around statistics that could kill an artist if that were all we ever focused on. I want to move slowly with the intention of giving more to people who choose to be in this space with me. I'm exhausted with how selfish the promotion process can be just as a consumer. I don't want to perpetuate that feeling onto my own listeners if I can help it, and you could say I’m still learning what that even means… All I know is that I made an album. It took me on a journey that forced me to shift my perspective on what it means to feel alone on a flakey, unreliable planet. It threw me into a crippling fear of the unknown, but I came back feeling an even deeper connection to myself and my surroundings . I can only hope to share that exploration with others trying to experience the same without completely losing their foundation. The world is constantly shifting the narrative on what makes something "worthy," and I know so many of us don’t even have the desire to keep up anymore. I can only try to serve the people who want to connect deeply to art and themselves. That relationship is more than enough.

#002

Lately, I've been diving into different parts of my job that don't involve songwriting. The switch in mindset takes some getting used to, but moving into the next phase of releasing my album has made me realize how grateful I am for the time I spent creating. Almost all of it came together last December when I was still living in Georgia with two long-time friends of mine. Rent was cheap, so I had the freedom to focus solely on my art and reading books that kept the process exciting. It was nice having a whole month to isolate from any pressure I'd get from being online too much. I was writing a song or more every day, and it was a brief moment in time where I truly felt like that was more than enough. There's usually some ghost in the room with me saying it's not.

Moving to Philadelphia was a significant change, not because of a lack of experience living in a city, but because of a massive shift in responsibility. I wasn't just taking on more financial burden; I'm also still in the process of finding new friends and activities I like to do so I'm not falling into my usual trap of extreme solitude. While it is valuable for the art-making process, I've read often that what you learn can't truly be put into practice without community. I made a lot of excuses that I needed to finish the album first, but now that it's done, I'm making more of an effort to be out and enjoy how walkable Philly is, how charismatic the people are, and how much I can immerse myself in conversation.

I finished writing and mixing the record around the end of March and started brainstorming titles by flipping through my old book notes. The process actually started well before I went on tour last year when I came across the book 'House of Leaves.' I was drawn to the themes of liminal space considering how much of a transition period I was going through myself. I was always looking for familiarity because it seemed like the only safety in a world that is so cold and unpredictable. I found myself revisiting the existential themes from my first album 'Contra' but with more understanding of where all the emptiness was coming from. At times, I think it was my subconscious warning me that the success I was about to come into would mean surrounding myself with events and people that would ultimately ruin my creative spirit. I was about to see how unsafe and unreliable the music industry can be. I was going to see how hard I would have to fight to maintain my joy of creation and sharing with people who genuinely care.

In all my reading, I would eventually stumble into the concept of "Ukiyo" (Floating Worlds) in "The Ritual Process, Structure, and Anti-Structure" by Victor Turner. The term refers to the transient and unreliable nature of life, which felt like a perfect description of what was causing me so much grief these last few years, even beyond my music journey. When I went online for more info, I was interested to see that before the word shifted into a description of a more hedonistic artistic style, it was a description of this unfulfilling loop Buddhist monks sought to break out of.

My album 'Floating Worlds' is an exploration I may not have been mature enough to understand when I made my debut. My questions back then led me to emptiness and a lack of trust in my surroundings, and while I could argue I have even less to believe in now with even more experience, I've also learned that my perspective is a new decision to make in every moment. I am constantly changing as much as the rest of the world is. I can keep redefining what gives me purpose. I can find joy in familiarity while also seeing the unknown as an invitation to more growth and eventual comfort. I can't always understand or control things, but I can always find new ways to enjoy my experience—my opportunity to perceive in the first place.

The first single is out at midnight, and it's a very simple expression of choosing joy when I needed it most. There’s no judgement to make beyond what I created. I went after a very specific feeling. That’s all I say about it and expect from the process.

#001

In a recent YouTube video I posted this past week, I talked about the books that have been a source of inspiration for my latest album over the past four months. As I was going through what each book meant to me, I noticed a recurring theme that initiated a realization I wished I'd known sooner, before my creative journey became overshadowed by external pressures.

Reading showed me that the process of completing your art should be transformative. It needs to be a deeply personal journey that remains true to your vision, even if it's not immediately clear to you. I'll find myself reflecting on my experience around releasing my first album CONTRA. I kept thinking back to it because the joy of creation was overshadowed by external expectations and pressures. I began to forget why I made that record in the first place.

I found myself losing sight of the themes that initially fueled my work—things like finding purpose and existential exploration. I felt the rollout of my album became more about identity politics than the lyrical intention I had poured my heart into. I became discouraged by the subtle yet pervasive biases I encountered that made me recognize that no amount of success would matter if I didn't assimilate to my environment. Despite any achievements, I had to confront the sobering reality that true acceptance seemed out of reach within a system that wasn't designed to accommodate people like me.

As I began reading a lot more books for my second album, I was starting to realize I finally had the words to describe what was bothering me so much. My experience was not an isolated incident. The system we currently live in was working exactly as it should, and I obviously wasn't able to handle being around it.

While most people would never agree with my approach, I was able to find a way out of my situation and provide myself the space I needed to write my second album. I decided to reclaim my creative autonomy. I decided to create music that resonated with me on a deeper level, free from the constraints of external expectations. I embraced isolation as a way to reconnect with my emotions and allow them to guide my creative process. I felt myself returning to what brought me so much joy about creating in the first place. I was finally in a place where I could allow my art to be a path to transformation.

I think it's very hard to make sense of where the world is at right now. It doesn't seem like any good is being protected...The only thing I can be sure of is that happiness needs to be fought for. I have to actively choose joy everyday and nurture whatever brings me closer to it. My music is not just a product but a reflection of myself in the current moment. It doesn't need to be any more than that.

Sometimes I still hold onto feelings of deep resentment and frustration, but this new album became a promise to myself. I committed to preserving my artistic vision and any transformation of the self that is necessary to see it through.