Becoming my Sutured Self
A guest article by deerxing
‘Sutured self’ album artwork by f.lee (fleeart.com)
‘Sutured Self’ is an exercise in introspection and compartmentalization of various aspects of my life, and as such it is autobiographical and roughly chronological. It dabbles in themes of self-actualization, furry identity, sexuality, masculinity, romance, heartbreak, depression, and what (I hope) lends cohesion to that collage of themes is “shame” as the central antagonist. I chose the album’s title because it has a different meaning through the lens of each of those mini-themes. Its most central interpretation is in reference to surgical sutures, and the act of independently repairing scars left by shame – both the messy operation itself, as well as the consequences of that messiness.
There are a couple additional angles on the title – A ‘sutured self’ is an oblique way to refer to a fursona, in a plush-toy sense. The album explores how taking on a fursona has been liberating for me: in my formative years I conceived of myself as a purely rational person, but one of the most challenging and amazing things about furry in general is how it seems to escape rationalization. Through furry I have found it easier to let myself feel good independently of the strictures and score-keeping of ordinary society.
Then, there are a couple interpretations to do with the pun on ‘suit yourself’. As the album closes up loose ends, it finds a comfort and catharsis in the fact that other people’s problems with me belong to them and not me. A lot of the conflict the album engages with comes from a peacekeeping, people-pleasing “fawn” response (no pun intended), and the album closes with a resolution to be more radically myself regardless of the preferences of others. “Suit yourself” could also be a bit of advice to a would-be furry: try putting a fursuit on!
The production and creative process behind ‘Sutured Self’ was a long one. I released my debut effort, ‘Trying to Leave my Ocean Home’, in November 2019. I was only able to cobble that album together (in spite of what was, in retrospect, a fairly deep depression) due to the convenience of being between graduate school and work. Through 2019 I had been ostensibly going for a PhD, but burnout was taking its toll and I absconded with a master’s; there is some impostor syndrome there, because I think the faculty could see that I was suffering – my thesis defense with an audience of my 2 faculty panel members ended with questions that shook the foundation of the work, but at the end of the hour I was congratulated.
Having escaped, and feeling unfulfilled despite what should have felt like a huge accomplishment, I assembled my first album from sketches and drafts which had slowly accrued over the course of my college years. As such, the album is eclectic and lacks some cohesion. Despite lifelong perfectionism, I released it in a somewhat under-produced state for two reasons: first, that I was drained of all energy to work on it further. Secondly, all of the sounds and recordings that I had once envisioned as placeholders in those songs had calcified into immutable aspects of the songs’ identities. I felt I could no longer change them, despite the unpolished sound (The monologue in the game ‘Getting Over It with Bennett Foddy’ comes to mind).
After a quiet album release (I hadn’t really done any marketing), I began my first full-time job at the very beginning of 2020. I was living alone for the first time, though in the first months of the first serious relationship of my adult life, and commuting 40 minutes to a manufacturing facility in rural Ohio for work. This would become a very challenging environment for a left-leaning queer person to exist in during the intensity of the beginning of COVID and the election year. I had it in mind to continue my creative momentum, having gotten some encouraging words from close friends who had listened to my music. However, when I began full-time work, my creative output came to a screeching halt, which quickly became an existential anxiety.
Okay, so I don’t have any energy left when I get through the workday. But the money I’m earning ought to give me some agency, some resource leverage to grease the creative wheels, right?
I signed up for an expensive course hosted by Andrew Huang on Monthly, to get some sort of structured external accountability. The conceit of the course was to produce 3 finished songs within the course of the month. I will say that the tutorials and insight into music production did help a lot to improve the overall production on ‘Sutured Self’, but I failed to keep up with the pace of the course in the midst of allowing myself to be drained by work. I ended up with the first version of ‘Mirage Mirror’ and two early demos of much less inspired music. The first sounds to make it onto ‘Sutured Self’ are from that draft of ‘Mirage Mirror’ from October 2020.
The conceit that having more liquid assets would make up for how much of myself I was pouring into work was showing its flaws. Money can definitely buy happiness to some degree, but time and energy are also limiters and I had none of either. I went to therapy to discuss, among other things, how I felt like I could not accomplish anything other than what was mandatory. The work that needed to be done there was compartmentalizing what I thought of as ‘mandatory’, and why. The mental distortions that led to that sensation of hopelessness are delivered heavily in ‘Bright’, track 8 on ‘Sutured Self’. The escape from that darkness is in progress, but I have made great strides away from it by refusing to count my work performance toward my self-worth, which alleviates the guilt associated with deliberately withholding my creative energies for more fulfilling personal projects (like finishing this album).
Work on ‘Sutured Self’ accelerated to a gentle walking pace, but my job was a terrible fit for me, so burnout persisted. I quit that job in summer 2022 (a decision that I estimate was at least a year overdue), beginning what would be a 9-month period of unemployment. The album did not have a title yet, but some of the songs were coming together and I had a vague 3-act order in mind. The first act would be an extended double-entendre of queer awakening and furry identity; the second a set of songs about interpersonal relationships, and the third about my relationship with work and self-worth. Most of the core musical ideas had been conceived, but there were many gaps to fill and good-voice days to wait for.
The creative process by which I write songs is largely meditative, circumstantial, and unreliable. I idly ideate musical ideas fairly constantly, but I do not have the habit of writing them down. The ideas that make it onto paper in some form are the ones that take residence in my mind for weeks and do not let go. I hope that this process ensures that the ideas in the finished project are engaging ones. Some of those survivors, though, end up scrapped, because the way they take shape when I try to produce them fails to resemble the sound I envisioned. All this is to say, while a lot of artists have a disciplined workflow by which they produce a glut of songs (then pared down to album length), the vetting of ideas and paring down to an album’s worth of music happens much more gradually for me.
The increments of songwriting and production progress for ‘Sutured Self’ felt largely out of my control For instance, I was asked to play violin at a family member’s memorial service last fall. I had not touched the instrument since 2017, but I got my instrument from my parents’ house and worked it back up (eased by the shared tuning with mandolin). That happenstance is why the song ‘Building’ exists, and why there are some live strings on other tracks. And I think on that song you can hear me getting a hang of the intonation again – I’ve spent too much time with frets – but that’s a song where some imperfection is welcomed.
A lot of the sounds on ‘Sutured Self’ are shaped by circumstances: were the neighbors out so I can sing loud? Can I be bothered to get a good take? Is this quarter-inch cable good? Can I literally play this instrument right now?
The bric-a-brac ‘studio’ in the third and final apartment where Sutured Self came to be.
The mandolin you’ll hear on Sutured Self, and the album artwork’s marker original by flee.
With depression (in the meantime diagnosed and medicated) at one’s side, the most mundane setbacks would put a weeks-long delay on the next step toward a finished product. I think in the case of ‘Sutured Self’, that kind of fermentation helped create a more organic album. But it’s definitely something I would like to figure out a way to have more agency over for my next project. I should sing loud when my neighbors are home; I should give some of the less-persistent musical ideas a chance at being heard. I should ask collaborators for help – it comes down, once again, to shame.
The mission statement I hope people take from ‘Sutured Self’ is this: Shame in all its forms – for deviating from the prescribed life cycle of heteronormativity, school and career; for the shape of one’s body; for having hurt and been hurt by others – is the enemy. Become yourself in spite of that shame.
About Deerxing
Rich (aka deerxing) is a multi-instrumentalist singer-songwriter making alternative pop. His music is influenced by a wide range of genres including art rock, bedroom pop, jazz and classical music.
His new album ‘Sutured Self’ is on bandcamp and on all major streaming platforms. He is an animal on the internet at @deerboye and handles deerxing social media through @deerxingmusic.
AA Note: While producing this article, he has now also joined our friends over at trickyStoop! Congrats <3.
