I’m Back: Recovery, Mental Health, New Music, and What’s Next

I’m still setting things up. Anytime I start something new, it takes a little wiggling and experimenting to figure out how it wants to roll at its best. That’s just how I work. Over the years, I’ve learned one important rule: always keep something on the burner.

Right now, that burner includes more than just music.

In the coming months, I’ll be launching a new YouTube channel focused on my personal story, specifically dealing with addiction recovery, mental health, and rebuilding life from the ground up. This won’t be a polished influencer highlight reel — it’s real life, real struggle, and real progress. If you care about recovery, mental health awareness, or what it actually looks like to keep going when things get dark, keep your eyes peeled. The channel should be live within the next month or so.

Merch has honestly been a pain in the ass — no sugarcoating that. Learning the systems, syncing platforms, pricing things correctly, and figuring out how I actually want to present it all has taken time. But I’m finally getting the hang of it, and more importantly, I’m shaping it in a way that feels authentic to who I am and what I stand for.

Looking ahead, 2026 is going to be a big year. You can expect more music than I’ve released in years, and I’ll be back on streaming services where the music belongs. This isn’t a comeback built on hype — it’s built on survival, clarity, and momentum.

I’m back, folks.
And this time, I’m building it the right way.

Hey Guys,

I know I haven’t been super active lately, so here’s a quick update.

I’ve been grinding behind the scenes — tuning up my website and building out the Strum Life store. That’s why I’ve been quiet on social media these past couple weeks.

But that’s about to change. Working on turning music into a business has me thinking hard about where I stand as a musician. This brand I’m building isn’t some made-up hustle — it’s the result of years of living. Some good years. Some brutal ones. And through it, I’m learning a lot about myself, what my comfort zone really is, and how much I’ve had to grow.

As some of you know, I’m a born-again Christian now. I’ve been thinking about how that shows up in my life. I don’t want to preach. If anyone follows Christ because of me, I want it to be through my actions, not my words. But I’ll be real — the old Mike still pops up, and I get in my own way sometimes. That’s a fight I’m always in.

This isn’t me trying to be some fake entrepreneur. This is me sharing my world, my music, and my journey. My biggest enemy has always been myself, and the only way I can get free is by leaning on something greater than me — something I’ll never fully understand.

I’m excited about the merch ideas. Coffee mugs are just the start. The exposure isn’t even in the infant stage yet — right now it’s like the sperm just hit the egg. For those of you riding with me through this experiment called the human condition — thank you.

Appreciate everyone who sticks around through the quiet patches. More is coming soon.

— Mike

I was 13 when I saw the "One" video. For about two years before that, I was lost in my parents' record collection, borrowing their tapes. The Beatles, Hendrix, Led Zeppelin, Clapton, The Doors — and the occasional BB King — ran the show in my short attention span.

MTV was always on in the house. I don’t remember the exact moment I saw "One" for the first time, but I remember the feeling.

The black-and-white video showed what I thought was an ugly chick — turns out it was James Hetfield.

The song was called "One" by Metallica, and I had never seen the guitar or drums played like that before. As the band played, clips from the movie Johnny Got His Gun flashed on the screen. It's based on a book about an American soldier in WWI who gets his face blown off. He can’t hear, can’t talk, can’t see. He can only communicate through Morse code by shaking his head in sequence.

The part that really blew me away was the machine gun effect — guitars hammering low notes while Lars attacked the double kick drums like he was running for his life.

I told my sister and her friends about it. She was eight years older than me, and she’d already been part of the music scene. That’s when I started hearing about Metallica’s old bass player — Cliff Burton — who had died just a few years earlier in a bus crash.

I grew up in Castro Valley, just outside of San Francisco, and through the years I kept hearing stories about Cliff. Not just how good he was, but how cool he was. Everyone said the same thing:
He was the nicest guy in the band. And he was real.

People told me how he’d just hang out at the local mini golf course. Or how he’d stop by your table if he saw you at dinner. Or how he’d kill time at the music store on Castro Valley Boulevard like just another neighborhood dude.

In high school, I heard "Anesthesia (Pulling Teeth)." That was my first exposure to a bass solo that didn’t give a flying fuck about rules. I didn’t fully understand it at the time, but it stayed with me.

Years later, when I was stuck in a long depression, what gave me hope was watching old Cliff-era Metallica videos.
There was something about his relationship with his instrument. You could tell the guy on stage was the same guy on the street.

I don’t care how legendary people say he is — even with a million praises, Cliff Burton is still the most underrated rock bassist of all time.

🔥 Watch this clip. If you don’t feel this, check your pulse:

Cliff Burton Bass Solo – Pulling Teeth (LIVE)