Inside the Mind of a Producer: Collaboration, Ego, and Making Music That Lasts

What does it really take to build a lasting career in music beyond talent, trends, and technology?

In this episode of Artists Unveiled, Holiday sits down with Spencer Hattendorf, a New York–based producer, mix engineer, and songwriter whose work spans pop, R&B, indie, and beyond. Spencer opens up about the long road from band life and corporate jobs to full-time music, and how collaboration, not isolation, changed everything.

This conversation goes deep into what music creation actually looks like behind the scenes: learning to co-write, building trust in the studio, balancing creativity with commerce, and why “doing it alone” is one of the biggest myths in modern music culture.

We talk about:

• Why collaboration often creates better art than solo work

• The hidden cost of grinding alone

• How technology changed music—for better and worse

• Finding your people and building a creative community

• Turning setbacks into pivots instead of dead ends

• Why vibe, trust, and honesty matter more than perfection

This episode is for artists, producers, songwriters, and anyone navigating a creative career and wondering if they’re doing it “the right way.”

🎧 Listen, reflect, and remember: you don’t have to do this alone. Now streaming on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, YouTube & Buzzsprout.

Thank You for Listening!

If you enjoyed this premiere season of Dream It Make It- Artists Unveiled, please remember to subscribe, rate, and leave a review—it helps more creators find us!

Connect with the Show and Dream It Make It:

• Website: www.godimi.com

Dream It, Make It is dedicated to empowering artists to build thriving, sustainable careers.

#ArtistUnveiled #DreamItMakeIt #CreativeEntrepreneur #Holiday

Transcript

Spencer: When I had been songwriting before, it was all me in a room with a piano or a guitar, trying my best to impersonate the people that I loved. And when I started co-writing, I think the first thing that I noticed was like, oh, first of all, this is way more fun. Accessible technology has made everybody able to kind of be their own producer and their own collaborator. That has made for an amazing proliferation of music. On the other hand, it’s also given people this idea that music has to be a solitary act. When really, we know that just the collaborative act creates way more than the sum of its parts often.

Holiday: Hello, welcome to Artists Unveiled, a show where we bring on exceptional creators to not just tell their story, but to give you real insights into how they went from striving to thriving. My name is Holiday, and I’d like to welcome Spencer Hattendorf, a producer, mix engineer, and songwriter based in New York. He specializes in pop, R&B, and indie singer-songwriter music, but has worked across the board with a collection of genres and styles with amazing and eclectic artists from all around the world. So did you start out on the sax?

Spencer: I started out on the saxophone. You know, it came from a pretty musical family. My mom’s a choir director.

Holiday: What kind of choir?

Spencer: She was the music director at the high school where my siblings and I all went to and where I grew up. So music was always around. My dad played the trombone. He actually played trombone in the Vietnam Army Band. He was in the Army Rangers and then in the military band in the Army. So yeah, musical family. My brother and sister both were into music as well and started playing jazz saxophone, went to college, and then got involved in this music scene that was much more expansive.

Holiday: Which was where?

Spencer: Wesleyan University in Connecticut. And when I was there, there was this really cool group of people who were all into all sorts of different things. There always is. That’s how it all begins. Everything from getting to sing in a gospel choir to playing in a salsa band to playing in a band that did Motown and soul music to reggae. I mean, all over the place. And then when I left school, I had formed a band with a bunch of classmates of mine, and we came to New York. We were like, alright, we’re gonna do this. We’re gonna tour.

Holiday: You all came to New York together?

Spencer: We all came to New York together. There were six of us, which is way too many people for a band, just throwing that out there. But eventually, over time, a couple of them left and it dwindled down to a core of three of us.

We were playing shows. I was working full-time jobs after school. So I graduated college and then started working corporate jobs full-time for years and was using all my PTO to go on the road and tour. Summers we’d be out for weeks at a time.

Holiday: Did you feel like two different people?

Spencer: Yeah. I think the weirdest part was telling anybody I worked with about the music stuff always felt a little funny. If you’re not doing it professionally, there’s like a tone to it.

Holiday: Yeah, like, oh, that’s cute.

Spencer: Exactly. Like, oh, you do your little weekend thing. That’s nice. But when coworkers actually came to shows, they were like, oh, this is real. We’re playing for hundreds of people. That’s not a fake thing. At the peak, we were playing over 100 shows a year, which for us, while working full-time jobs, felt like a lot.

 At that point, I had no idea what a music producer was. I had a vague idea of what an engineer was. My relationship with music was really about writing songs and performing them live. I wasn’t thinking about recording studios or capturing sound. That changed when the band went to make our first album and we worked with a producer. That was the first time I really understood what that role was. The producer we worked with was very old-school. He wasn’t a beat maker. He wasn’t playing every instrument. He was someone who put people in the room together, got the vibe right, picked the right collaborators, and intervened when needed.

Holiday: You mean Yaron?

Spencer: Yes. His name’s Yaron. Wonderful human. Seeing that kind of production for the first time was eye-opening. The album process took a long time, as band albums do. And eventually, the band imploded. Much love to those guys. It’s a bond you can’t erase. But we went our separate ways. What stayed was my relationship with Yaron. He took me under his wing and started hiring me as an assistant on projects. That’s when I really started learning what a producer is, how that works, and I got deeply interested.

Holiday: And this was in the city as well?

Spencer: Yeah. I was still living in the city. Yaron lives in Westchester and has a studio up there, so I would come up from the city. That was kind of how I got launched into the production side of it. But while I was doing that, before the band fully imploded after I met Yaron and started getting into the production side, I also started working with other people. I was like, okay, let me help you make your music. I’m seeing how this works. I’m getting interested. Let’s figure this out together. The way I approached it was: I know how to play these instruments. I know how to create sounds. I’m getting into Logic and Pro Tools and learning the technical side. Let’s make something together. It was always about helping artists make their thing. I wanted to make my own music, but I found myself much more interested in supporting other people doing theirs. 

Around the same time, on the side of all this, I had started coaching at a rowing fitness gym. That gym eventually launched into a national franchise, and they ended up hiring me to make custom music for their rowing classes. They needed tempo-specific songs that could speed up and slow down.

Instead of licensing big pop songs, I pitched them on making original music. I was like, let me make you pop records where the tempo can change however you need for your classes. That was kind of how I cut my teeth in pop music.

It was my first real big-paying production gig, and I was so excited because it combined everything I loved. I had been a rower in college. I was into fitness. I loved music. Suddenly all of it came together.

Holiday: Where talent meets commerce.

Spencer: Exactly. It made me realize this could be a real career. For a long time, being in a band, I saw the music industry as this giant brick wall I kept throwing things at, hoping someone would pull me up. But no one has that power. You have to make your own thing. You have to prove value.

Technology has made music incredibly accessible. Social platforms let anyone put their work out there. That means you can prove your worth yourself. Eventually, someone might come along and say, come with me, I’ll show you something, but no one can just press a button and give you a career.

I spent years thinking, if I could just get in the room with this person or that person, everything would change. But the reality is, they’re on their own journey too. They don’t have a magic wand. They’re trying to pay bills and build their own legacy.

That fitness music project was the first time I realized I could create my own opportunities by seeing a need and filling it. A few years later, I left my corporate jobs and went full-time into music.

That happened at the end of 2019. Then the pandemic hit. It was a terrifying moment to go full-time, but I had already been working with international clients remotely, so I had a workflow set up.

Holiday: How did that come about?

Spencer: Through working with Yaron. He has a lot of international clients. We were working with artists in the Czech Republic, Amsterdam, all over. So when the pandemic happened, I was like, okay, I’m actually already set up for this.

Around that same time, this organization called Songwrite Club started. My friends Steege and Andrew started it with a few others. When the industry shut down, everyone needed a way to collaborate

I was doing multiple writing sessions a week with people in Miami, LA, Ohio, London, everywhere. That experience taught me how to truly co-write. Before that, my co-writing had mostly been band-based.

Holiday: Elaborate on that a little bit.

Spencer: Before, songwriting was just me in a room trying to impersonate people I loved. When I started co-writing, the first thing I noticed was how much more fun it was.

Technology lets everyone be their own producer now, which is amazing, but it also convinces people that music has to be solitary. And that’s not true. Collaboration creates something bigger than the sum of its parts.

Holiday: The synergy.

Spencer: Exactly. You get in a room with certain people and they somehow know what’s in your head, but express it in their way. Suddenly, it feels like being in your favorite band. Through Songwrite Club, I met people who are now my closest collaborators. Looking back, I wish I had spent more time earlier building a musical community.

Holiday: Do you think you can force community?

Spencer: It has to be organic. But it takes time and care. You can’t plant a garden and not water it. I came to production late compared to a lot of people. I didn’t start until I was around 28.

Holiday: It doesn’t matter when a flower blooms. It matters that it blooms.

Spencer: That really helped me reframe things. Every realization in my career happened when I was finally ready for it.

Holiday: Sometimes you’re ready and you don’t even know it.

Spencer: Exactly. A lot of my biggest opportunities showed up before I understood what they actually were. Someone would suggest something and I’d think, I don’t know why they think I can do that—but I’m willing to try.

Holiday: You mentioned earlier something I wrote down: the band imploding.

Spencer: Yeah. Those moments are turning points. When the band imploded, it felt devastating. But that was also the moment something else opened up. Even before that, there was a moment where half the band left all at once. Three people were suddenly gone. The remaining three of us had to decide do we quit, or do we keep going? Right at that moment, we were offered some big opportunities, opening slots on tours, recording opportunities. It felt like the universe saying, no, you actually have to keep going.

Holiday: I have a theory. A fire theory.

Spencer: I love this already.

Holiday: A band is a fire. As long as someone carries that fire forward, it lives. You just don’t know who that person will be.

Spencer: That’s exactly right. And after the band imploded, I tried to carry the fire forward in my own way. I made a solo record during that time. I was producing other people’s music, but also trying to make my own. Looking back, it was a huge learning moment.

I didn’t co-write that record at all. And now, the thought of not co-writing feels insane to me. Why wouldn’t I? But I needed that experience, making a full-length project, producing it, hiring musicians, learning how to run a room.

Holiday: You were working closely with Yaron at that point. How did that evolve?

Spencer: When Yaron produced our band’s album, he created this incredible experience. We recorded in an amazing studio in the Hudson Valley with musicians I had idolized growing up. It was like watching the best concert I’d ever seen except it was my own music. We worked with Neil Dorfman, who engineered records like Born to Run. Being in that room was unreal. During that project, Yaron’s longtime assistant, who’s now a very successful producer, moved on. Around the same time, Yaron was working with a Czech band called Kryštof.

He asked me and our guitarist to help co-produce some tracks. That went well, and after that I started working on more of his projects. Reggae albums, eclectic records dozens of projects over the years.

I worked as his assistant, learned Pro Tools, learned how to run a board, and learned engineering from him. He’s been an incredible mentor, and I’m really grateful for that relationship.

Holiday: How did you show value in those rooms? And how could someone else do that?

Spencer: My philosophy is simple: no matter how big or small my role is, I treat it like the most important thing in my life. If my job is tiny, I’ll do it incredibly well. If it’s big, I’ll do that incredibly well too.

I see this with interns all the time. The ones I love working with don’t care that they’re getting coffee, they do it thoughtfully. Then later, they’re around during the mix, asking real questions. Those are the people you want to bring into bigger roles.

The people I gravitate toward have no ego. They want the project to be great, regardless of genre or client. People who walk into rooms thinking they’re better than what’s there don’t last.

Holiday: You don’t know anyone when you walk into a room.

Spencer: Exactly. Any assumption you make is probably wrong. People can really surprise you, in good ways, if you let them.

And honestly, the biggest artists I’ve worked with have been the nicest people. Talent and generosity often go together.

Holiday: If someone wants to co-write, where do they start?

Spencer: Find people whose music you admire, or people at a similar stage as you. My best co-writes were with people who were learning at the same time I was.

It’s a lot like dating. Some sessions won’t work. Some will. Sometimes the fourth session is magic after three bad ones. But the key is joy. Early on, I thought suffering was required to make great art. Now I believe if it’s not fun, why are we doing this? Music is hard enough. Have a good time. When I think about all of this, one of the biggest lessons for me has been learning that timing isn’t something you can force. I spent so much of my early twenties feeling behind, like I had missed some invisible window that everyone else seemed to catch. And looking back now, I realize I wasn’t late, I was just learning differently.

Holiday: That’s a really important distinction.

Spencer: Yeah. I think we internalize this idea that there’s a correct order to things. Like you’re supposed to figure out who you are early, lock into a lane, and then just climb upward. But real creative lives are messy. They loop. They stall. They restart. And sometimes those restarts are the most valuable parts.

Holiday: And they often don’t look productive from the outside.

Spencer: Exactly. A lot of what looked like stagnation from the outside was actually me collecting tools. I was learning how to listen better. How to communicate. How to be in a room with other people and not feel like I had to prove something constantly. Those skills didn’t feel like progress at the time, but now they’re everything I rely on.

Holiday: Especially in collaborative spaces.

Spencer: Totally. Collaboration is where all of this really comes together. And I don’t just mean musically. I mean emotionally. You’re walking into rooms with people who are exposing parts of themselves that are really fragile. If you don’t know how to hold that responsibly, no amount of technical skill is going to save the session.

Holiday: That’s such an important point.

Spencer: I’ve learned that people don’t remember every chord or lyric, but they always remember how they felt in the room. They remember whether they felt safe. Whether they felt heard. Whether they felt like they were allowed to experiment without being judged. That’s what makes people want to come back and work with you again.

Holiday: And that’s not something you can fake.

Spencer: No. You really can’t. People can sense when you’re present and when you’re just waiting for your turn to talk or show off. Early on, I definitely had moments where I was more focused on what I was adding than what was actually needed. And over time, you learn that sometimes the best contribution is restraint.

Holiday: Listening as an active skill.

Spencer: Exactly. Listening is creative. Listening shapes outcomes. And it’s funny once I stopped trying to force my voice into everything, I actually started making better work. The room got lighter. Ideas flowed more naturally. People trusted the process more.

Holiday: Do you think that trust is what ultimately leads to longevity in this industry?

Spencer: I really do. Talent opens doors, but trust keeps them open. The people I see working consistently are the ones who are reliable, generous, and genuinely curious. They show up prepared, but flexible. Confident, but not rigid. That balance is hard, but it’s essential.

Holiday: And it takes time.

Spencer: A lot of time. And patience. Which is tough, because patience isn’t rewarded immediately. But it compounds. Every good experience builds on the last one. Every respectful interaction becomes part of your reputation, whether you realize it or not.

Holiday: So for someone listening who feels behind or unsure of their path 

Spencer: I’d tell them this: you’re probably exactly where you need to be. If you’re paying attention. If you’re learning. If you’re staying open. There’s no wasted experience if you let it shape you instead of harden you.

Holiday: That idea of not hardening is interesting, because a lot of people do the opposite when things don’t move fast enough.

Spencer: Yeah, and I get it. When you put so much of yourself into something and it doesn’t immediately give you validation or stability, the instinct is to protect yourself. But protection can turn into armor really quickly, and armor makes it hard to connect.

Holiday: And connection is the work.

Spencer: Exactly. Especially now. The people who are thriving aren’t just technically strong, they’re emotionally literate. They know how to read a room, how to pivot, how to meet someone where they are instead of forcing an agenda.

Holiday: Do you think that’s changed over time, or was it always like that?

Spencer: I think it was always true, but it’s more visible now. The barrier between personal and professional has thinned. We’re seeing more of the human behind the work, for better or worse. And because of that, authenticity isn’t just a buzzword, it's functional.

Holiday: Functional how?

Spencer: Because people want to work with people they trust. If you’re guarded, defensive, or transactional, that energy shows up in the work. But if you’re open even when you’re unsure, that openness creates momentum.

Holiday: That ties back to what you said earlier about readiness.

Spencer: Yeah. Readiness isn’t about having everything figured out. It’s about being willing to step into uncertainty without needing to control it. Some of the biggest growth moments in my career came from saying yes to things I didn’t fully understand yet.

Holiday: That takes courage.

Spencer: It does. And humility. You have to be okay with not being the expert in the room. You have to be okay with learning in real time, sometimes publicly. That can be uncomfortable, especially if you’re used to measuring your worth by competence.

Holiday: But it’s also freeing.

Spencer: Very. Once you stop tying your identity to being “good enough,” you start actually getting better. You experiment more. You ask better questions. You listen more deeply. And all of that feeds the work in ways you can’t plan.

Holiday: How do you balance that openness with self-belief?

Spencer: For me, it’s about trusting my curiosity more than my ego. I might not always know the answer, but I trust that I care enough to find it. That’s been more reliable than confidence alone.

Holiday: That’s a powerful distinction.

Spencer: And it keeps the work alive. When you’re curious, you’re engaged. When you’re engaged, you’re present. And presence is what people respond to whether it’s in a studio, a writing session, or a conversation like this.

Holiday: It sounds like you’ve built your career less around control and more around responsiveness.

Spencer: That’s a good way to put it. I think earlier on I was chasing certainty. Now I’m more interested in alignment. When something feels aligned even if it’s challenging I know I’m in the right place.

Holiday: And when it doesn’t?

Spencer: Then it’s information. Not failure. Just information telling me to adjust, recalibrate, or move on.

Holiday: That idea of alignment instead of certainty really reframes how people think about success.

Spencer: Yeah, because certainty is kind of a myth in creative work. There’s always going to be some level of instability. Even when things look solid from the outside, internally you’re still making choices without guarantees.

Holiday: So alignment becomes the compass.

Spencer: Exactly. Alignment with your values, with the people you’re working with, with the kind of life you want to be living. When those things line up, the external stuff becomes easier to navigate even when it’s hard.

Holiday: Do you feel like that’s something you learned through experience, or is it something you could’ve been told earlier?

Spencer: I think you can hear it intellectually, but you don’t really understand it until you’ve lived through misalignment. Until you’ve chased something that looked right on paper but felt wrong in your body.

Holiday: That’s usually how the lesson sticks.

Spencer: Yeah. And those moments are painful, but they’re clarifying. They teach you what you’re not willing to compromise anymore. For me, joy became non-negotiable. Not happiness all the time, but joy in the process.

Holiday: Joy as a metric.

Spencer: Exactly. If the process is constantly draining, something’s off. That doesn’t mean it has to be easy. Some of the most joyful things I’ve worked on were incredibly demanding. But they didn’t feel hollow.

Holiday: They fed you back.

Spencer: Yes. They gave something back. And I think that’s what people underestimate. They think sacrifice means depletion. But the right kind of work even when it costs you something also replenishes you.

Holiday: That’s a hard distinction to learn.

Spencer: It is. Especially in a culture that glorifies burnout. We’re taught that exhaustion equals dedication. But dedication without sustainability just leads to resentment.

Holiday: And resentment leaks into the work.

Spencer: Always. You hear it. You feel it. Whether it’s in music, writing, performance whatever it is the energy behind it comes through. That’s why I’m so intentional now about who I work with and how.

Holiday: Intentional in what way?

Spencer: In asking simple questions early. Do I feel respected here? Do I feel safe being honest? Is there room to experiment without punishment? If the answer is no to those things, it’s probably not a long-term fit.

Holiday: That’s a very grounded approach.

Spencer: It had to become that way. I think earlier on, I would’ve ignored those signals because I didn’t want to miss an opportunity. Now I understand that not every opportunity is actually for you.

Holiday: That’s a big shift.

Spencer: Yeah. And it comes from realizing that your time and energy are finite. Where you place them shapes not just your career, but who you become as a person.

Holiday: That’s something people don’t talk about enough.

Spencer: No, they don’t. But it’s real. Your work life bleeds into your inner life whether you want it to or not. So you might as well choose environments that support the person you’re trying to be.

Holiday: When you look back now, do you feel like there was a specific moment where that mindset really locked in for you?

Spencer: I think it was less one moment and more a series of realizations stacking on top of each other. Little moments where I noticed patterns that energized me, what drained me, what felt honest versus what felt performative.

Holiday: Patterns are hard to ignore once you see them.

Spencer: Exactly. And once you see them, it becomes harder to justify staying in situations that don’t serve you. Early on, I would rationalize a lot. I’d say, “This is just how it is,” or “This is what you have to do to make it.” But eventually, that narrative stopped working.

Holiday: Because it didn’t align with reality anymore?

Spencer: Right. Or with who I was becoming. I think growth creates friction with old frameworks. Things that once felt acceptable start to feel unbearable.

Holiday: That’s such a clear way to put it.

Spencer: And it applies creatively too. The music I was making earlier in my career made sense for who I was then. But as I evolved, I couldn’t keep making the same kinds of choices just because they’d worked before.

Holiday: So evolution demands risk.

Spencer: Always. Staying the same is actually the bigger risk in the long run. Especially in creative work. Audiences can feel stagnation, even if they don’t know how to articulate it.

Holiday: Do you ever feel pressure to repeat what’s already worked?

Spencer: Of course. That pressure exists everywhere externally and internally. There’s comfort in formulas. But I’ve learned that repetition without curiosity kills my interest fast.

Holiday: Curiosity keeps it alive.

Spencer: Yes. Curiosity and play. Even when I’m working on something very serious or emotionally heavy, there has to be some sense of exploration. Otherwise it becomes mechanical.

Holiday: And mechanical work rarely connects deeply.

Spencer: Exactly. It might be polished, it might be technically impressive, but it won’t linger. The things that stay with people usually come from moments where the creator was genuinely engaged, maybe even surprised by what emerged.

Holiday: Surprise feels essential.

Spencer: It is. I think that’s why collaboration has become so important to me. Other people introduce variables you can’t manufacture on your own. They pull you out of your habits.

Holiday: They disrupt your defaults.

Spencer: Yes. And that disruption is healthy. It forces you to listen, to respond, to adapt. It keeps the work dynamic.

Holiday: Which brings us back to the community.

Spencer: Exactly. None of this happens in isolation, even when it looks like it does from the outside. Every piece of work is shaped by conversations, influences, and shared experiences.

Holiday: Even the quiet ones.

Spencer: Especially the quiet ones. The moments offstage, off-record, where trust gets built. Those are the moments that determine whether the creative process feels safe or strained.

Holiday: And safety doesn’t mean comfort.

Spencer: No. It means permission. Permission to fail, to try again, to not know yet. That’s what actually allows good work to happen.

Holiday: That permission you’re talking about do you feel like it’s something you had to learn how to give yourself first, before you could create it for others?

Spencer: Absolutely. I don’t think I could’ve held space for other people creatively until I learned how to do that for myself. Early on, I was really harsh with myself. Everything had to be “good” immediately, or I felt like I was failing.

Holiday: That internal pressure can be brutal.

Spencer: It really can. And it shows up in the work. When you’re tense, the music feels tense. When you’re judging yourself in real time, you’re not actually listening.

Holiday: You’re anticipating instead of responding.

Spencer: Exactly. And that anticipation kills presence. Once I started relaxing my grip a little—trusting that something would emerge if I stayed engaged—the work got better. And honestly, it got easier.

Holiday: Easier, but not easier in the sense of less effort.

Spencer: Right. Easier emotionally. The effort is still there. The hours are still there. But there’s less fear driving the process.

Holiday: Fear is exhausting fuel.

Spencer: It really is. And it’s not sustainable. You can make something good out of fear once or twice, but you can’t build a life out of it.

Holiday: That feels important for artists to hear.

Spencer: Yeah. Especially because so many creative environments unintentionally reward fear-based behavior—overworking, self-erasure, perfectionism. Those things get mistaken for dedication.

Holiday: When they’re actually warning signs.

Spencer: Exactly. Dedication should feel grounding, not destabilizing. When someone is truly committed, they’re consistent, curious, and present not panicked.

Holiday: How does that translate when you’re working with artists who are earlier in their journey?

Spencer: I try to normalize the mess. I tell them upfront: it’s supposed to feel confusing sometimes. If you’re uncomfortable, it doesn’t mean you’re doing it wrong it might mean you’re doing something new.

Holiday: That reframes discomfort completely.

Spencer: Yeah. Discomfort isn’t failure. It’s information. And if you can learn to listen to it instead of fighting it, it becomes incredibly useful.

Holiday: That takes a lot of trust.

Spencer: It does. And trust builds slowly. It builds through consistency, honesty, and showing up when it’s not glamorous.

Holiday: That part doesn’t get talked about enough.

Spencer: No, it doesn’t. People love the highlight reel. But most of the work happens in the in-between moments the days where nothing feels clear but you still show up.

Holiday: Those are the days that shape you.

Spencer: Exactly. And over time, you start to realize that those days aren’t obstacles. They’re the work.

Holiday: When you think about longevity, staying in this for decades, what do you think actually makes that possible.

Spencer: Boundaries. Honestly. I didn’t understand that early on. I thought saying yes to everything was how you survived. But that burns you out fast.

Holiday: Especially in creative fields.

Spencer: Yeah. Because there’s always another opportunity, another collaboration, another idea. If you don’t decide what matters, everything feels urgent.

Holiday: And nothing gets your full attention.

Spencer: Exactly. I had to learn that protecting my energy wasn’t selfish it was necessary. If I’m depleted, I’m not useful to anyone in the room.

Holiday: That’s a hard shift for people who equate sacrifice with worth.

Spencer: Totally. There’s this narrative that if you’re not suffering, you’re not serious. I don’t believe that anymore. I think sustainability is the real flex.

Holiday: That’s such a good way to put it.

Spencer: Because the people I admire most are still curious, still generous, still excited about the work after years of doing it. That doesn’t happen by accident.

Holiday: It happens by design.

Spencer: Yes. You design a life that allows the work to keep evolving instead of consuming you.

Holiday: How do you see that showing up in your own process now?

Spencer: I’m more selective. I ask better questions before I say yes. Not just “Is this cool?” but “Is this aligned?” and “Do I have the capacity for this right now?”

Holiday: Capacity is such an underrated metric.

Spencer: It really is. You can love something and still not have room for it. And that’s okay.

Holiday: That permission again.

Spencer: Yeah. Giving yourself permission to pause, to say no, to change direction. Those are all creative acts too.

Holiday: They shape the work indirectly.

Spencer: Exactly. Life feeds the art. If life is chaotic and depleted, the art eventually reflects that.

Holiday: What do you hope artists listening take away from this conversation?

Spencer: That there isn’t one right way. That your pace is valid. That collaboration isn't a weakness. And that joy is not optional, it's part of the process.

Holiday: That feels like a strong place to land.

Spencer: I hope so. Because if we don’t make room for joy, this work becomes very lonely very fast.

Holiday: And it doesn’t have to be.

Spencer: No. It really doesn’t.

Holiday: Before we wrap up, I want to ask you one last thing. When you look back at everything you’ve done, from bands, to production, to mentoring what feels most true to you right now?

Spencer: Connection. That’s the word that keeps coming up for me. Whether it’s connecting sounds, people, ideas, or moments, it’s all about connection.

Holiday: That through-line is very clear in your work.

Spencer: Yeah, and it took me a long time to see it. I thought I was jumping around or not committing enough to one thing. But now I realize I was just following the same instinct in different forms.

Holiday: Which is?

Spencer: Creating spaces where people feel safe enough to be honest. Musically, emotionally, creatively.

Holiday: That’s a rare skill.

Spencer: I think it comes from knowing how hard it is to do this alone. And knowing how much better the work gets when you don’t have to.

Holiday: That feels very aligned with everything we’ve talked about today.

Spencer: Yeah. And I think that’s what I’d want to leave people with, if you’re struggling, it doesn’t mean you’re doing it wrong. It usually means you’re doing something that matters.

Holiday: That’s powerful.

Spencer: And if you can find even one person to share the process with, everything shifts. The weight gets lighter.

Holiday: Spencer, thank you so much for being here. This conversation was generous, honest, and incredibly grounding.

Spencer: Thank you. I really appreciate the space you’ve created here. It feels thoughtful, intentional, and human, which is rare.

Holiday: That means a lot. Truly.

Spencer: Happy to be part of it.

Holiday: And to everyone listening, thank you for spending time with us. This has been another episode of Artists Unveiled. If this conversation resonated, share it with someone who needs it.

You can follow us on Instagram at @dimi.app.og—that’s D-I-M-I dot A-P-P dot O-G—and learn more at godimi.com.

Until next time, keep creating, keep asking questions, and don’t do it alone.