Exclusive Interview: Mitch Dubin
Photo Credit: Artist EPK
Mitch Dubin’s “Whole Damn Heart” isn’t just a song. It’s a lived-in, emotionally raw, brutally honest life story pressed to record — an open wound dressed in melody, stitched together with memory, family, and redemption.
Mitch calls this the most personal song he’s ever written — and he’s not exaggerating. Every lyric is 100% true. No metaphorical smoke and mirrors. No artistic distance. Just a man laying it all out, with a trembling voice and a hell of a lot of heart.
“Whole Damn Heart” chronicles Mitch’s journey through addiction and recovery, but this isn’t just another “I got better” anthem. It’s the granular stuff. The messy middle. The emotional wreckage. And the resilience it takes to keep a family afloat while you're trying to stop drowning.
He celebrates his wife — the anchor, the glue, the soul of the house — who held things together when he couldn’t. From going from “never wanting a dog” to being mom to two, to raising their sons through all the chaos, her strength is quietly epic.
The song is structured like an emotional time-lapse — think Taylor Swift’s “All Too Well (10-Minute Version)” but filtered through years of lived experience and lessons hard-earned. The only repeated line is the title, and every time it hits, it feels different — sometimes regretful, sometimes grateful, always honest.
Mitch describes how much his children have influenced the song. And it’s beautiful.
Noah is a fireball of creativity — a guitar shredder, Minecraft savant, Smash Bros Bowser-main who’s walked his own road through addiction. Mitch’s love for him pulses through the speakers.
Jace is the deep thinker. A former rep basketball player turned academic about to crush the LSATs and chase a law career. He's steady, determined, and grounded — thanks, in part, to his girlfriend, who Mitch warmly credits as his rock.
Their names aren't just details — they’re characters in this story, and you feel like you know them by the end of the track.
He honors his mom, a cancer survivor who somehow still keeps track of everyone’s birthdays, worries, and wins. He reflects on his dad, who lives with cognitive issues after surviving seven bypass surgeries — and who passed on his love of blues, vinyl, and Chicago road trips.
And then there’s his sister, his ride-or-die in a world that can feel unmoored. They live in different cities, live different lives, but that bond? Unbreakable.
All of this lives in the verses. You don’t just hear Mitch’s story — you feel it building with each emotional brick he lays down.
Photo Credit: Artist EPK
Musically, “Whole Damn Heart” is gentle but persistent — a singer-songwriter ballad with backbone. It doesn’t try to dazzle with production tricks. It trusts the truth to do the heavy lifting. The melodies evolve along with the lyrics, always shifting, always growing, never looping in place. It mirrors the journey — nothing stays the same, but some things return changed.
Guiding Mitch through all this has been Ken, a 72-year-old composer and fellow AA member who serves as both sponsor and mentor. You can feel that wisdom in the restraint of the track. It never pushes too hard. It breathes. It trusts silence when needed.
If you’ve ever struggled. If you’ve ever watched someone you love fight their way back. If you’ve ever lost and then somehow still found light in the cracks — “Whole Damn Heart” is for you.
This isn’t background music. It demands your presence. It wants you to sit with it. To cry. To remember. To reflect.
Mitch Dubin’s not chasing streams. He’s telling the truth. And the truth is, this song might break you a little. But it’ll put something back in you, too.
Stream it, feel it, share it.
Because in a world of noise, this is a voice worth hearing.
Photo Credit: Artist EPK
We spoke to Mitch about his journey so far.
Do you have an interesting moment or story from your early life that has had a significant impact on your journey into music?
Mitch: Absolutely. I was four years old when I went to my first concert — April Wine. I don’t remember much, but I remember sitting on the drummer Jerry Mercer’s lap backstage. That moment, along with growing up in my grandfather’s music store in Montreal, really planted the seed. That store was my happy place. Guitars, amps, drum kits, and more — music was everywhere. When I was a kid, I remember how hard Elvis’s death hit my mother. Then John Lennon was killed when I was six. I didn’t fully understand the impact at the time, but I felt the loss — like something beautiful and powerful had been taken. Those early experiences shaped how seriously I’ve always taken music. It’s never been background noise for me. It’s always been memory, emotion, and presence. That stayed with me through my years playing drums, collecting records, and now writing songs about life, pain, and everything in between.
Are there any artists that were influential to your musical journey? How have they inspired your sound as an artist?
Mitch: Definitely. I grew up on Rush — Neil Peart was my drumming idol. His precision, his lyrics, the emotion behind everything he played… that set the bar for me early on. I was also really into glam rock and metal as a kid, and later fell in love with confessional lyricists who weren’t afraid to be raw — artists like Eminem, Post Malone, and Taylor Swift. I know those names don’t always show up in the same playlist, but for me they all share one thing: brutal honesty. Taylor’s All Too Well (10-Minute Version) was a big influence on my latest song “Whole Damn Heart.” That idea of telling one story, no repeating chorus — just a continuous emotional arc — really hit me. Same with Eminem. I even wrote a track called “Stansplained” as a kind of tribute to how much his storytelling taught me. But my roots go even deeper. The Beatles shaped my sense of melody and songwriting. Michael Jackson and Prince taught me about performance, groove, and how to make every second of a song count. And Bob Marley showed me the power of music with a message — music that heals, that unites, that stands for something. So yeah, my sound’s a blend — part hip-hop, part pop, part country, part singer-songwriter — but at the core, it’s about telling the truth. That’s what all those artists taught me: if you’re not being honest, what’s the point?
How would you describe your sound to new listeners? What do you think sets you apart?
Mitch: My sound is emotional storytelling set to rhythm — a mix of confessional hip-hop, pop, country, and singer-songwriter. I’m not trying to fit neatly into a genre. If it needs bars, I rap. If it needs melody, I sing. If it needs space, I let it breathe. I write songs the way I feel them. What sets me apart is the rawness. I’m not interested in polish for polish’s sake — I care more about whether the emotion lands. Every line goes through me. I’ve lived the stories I’m telling. “Whole Damn Heart,” for example, doesn’t have a chorus. It just unfolds — one scene to the next — like a memory you can’t skip. I think that’s what makes it resonate: it’s not about formula, it’s about feeling.
What’s your creative process? Where do you normally start when it comes to writing and recording? Do the lyrics come first?
Mitch: For me, it usually starts with a feeling — something I need to get off my chest. Sometimes it’s just a line I hear in my head, or a phrase I can’t let go of. I don’t sit down with a plan. I follow the emotion wherever it leads. A lot of times, I’ll beatbox or hum a melody into my phone just to capture the vibe. I’m a big believer in starting with instinct — not rules. From there, I build out lyrics, usually in a stream-of-consciousness style. I write like I’m talking to someone who really needs to hear it. Then I shape it, line by line. I produce everything in my home. I use Logic Pro, GarageBand, RX11, BandLab, Ocenaudio, and more — but I don’t lean on plugins to “fix” anything emotionally.
Have you had any challenges or adversities in your life that you feel have shaped you as an artist?
Mitch: Yeah — the biggest one has been my battle with addiction. I’m 18 months sober now, and that journey has completely reshaped who I am — not just as an artist, but as a husband, father, and human being. There was a time I was barely holding it together, and my family carried me through it. My wife Melissa, my two sons, my parents, and sister — they never let go of me, even when I had. That struggle shows up in almost every track I write. Songs like “Sober Savage” and “Whole Damn Heart” are snapshots of moments I lived through — moments where I had to rebuild from zero. Music became a way to process all of it, and to tell the truth without shame. I want people to know they’re not alone in their pain, and that it’s possible to come out the other side.
Are there any moments or achievements from your career so far that you’re most proud of?
Mitch: Finishing my debut album, Bars, Bruises & Breakdown Beats, is at the top. I didn’t rush it. I started writing “Sad Inside” early in the COVID lockdown before my addiction took hold. That track sat unfinished on my hard drive for over five years. When I finally got sober, I went back to that track as well as some beats I had created, and began writing what would become the album Bars, Bruises & Breakdown Beats. To hear them now, fully produced and out in the world, still kind of blows my mind. One standout is “Whole Damn Heart.” It’s resonated more than anything I’ve done. Seeing the messages from people who connected with it, or hearing someone say, “That song says what I couldn’t,” means more to me than any playlist or stream count ever could.
Which do you prefer, the creative process or live performance? Or do you enjoy both equally?
Mitch: Right now, I live for the creative process. Writing, recording, layering vocals, sculpting the sound — that’s where I feel most in control and most at peace. It’s personal. It’s private…
Do you as an artist require fans to fully understand your message in each song or do you encourage subjective interpretation from every listener?
Mitch: I definitely leave room for interpretation. My songs are rooted in very personal stories, but I know once they’re out in the world, they’re no longer just mine. If someone finds their own meaning in “Whole Damn Heart” or “Jack of Hearts” — even if it’s different from what I intended — that’s a beautiful thing. That said, I always write with intention. The lyrics are layered, and if someone wants to dig deep and unpack the real story, I hope they feel rewarded for doing that. But I’m not here to control how anyone feels — I just want them to feel something.
Does the political landscape have an impact on your music, or do you keep your personal opinions separate from your work as an artist?
Mitch: Politics isn’t a major focus in my music, but I do touch on it when I feel like there’s a creative or cultural angle worth exploring. On this album, I have a track called “Red, White, and Big Mac Pride” that plays with the Trump era — but it’s more satirical than serious. I stayed away from the darker, more divisive stuff. Instead, I leaned into the absurd — like Sharpies on weather maps, paper towel tosses, and crowd-size debates. It’s meant to be humorous, not hostile. I wasn’t trying to offend people who support him or turn it into a protest song. I just wanted to capture a weird, unforgettable chapter in American culture in a way that made people smirk — no matter which side they’re on. In general, I focus more on personal truths: addiction, fatherhood, mental health, redemption. Those topics feel more urgent and real to me than picking a political side. But if something political overlaps with personal experience and I can approach it with heart or humor, I’m open to that too.
What are your future plans? Any new songs/projects on the horizon?
Mitch: Yeah — I’m already deep into my next album. It’s called The Music That Made Me, and it’s exactly what it sounds like: a tribute to the songs and artists that shaped who I am. They’re not covers, but each track contains pieces, references, or emotional callbacks to some of my all-time favorites — from Skid Row to The Wallflowers. It’s been an amazing experience reconnecting with the music that raised me, but reinterpreting it through my own lens — as someone who’s lived, stumbled, and grown. I want it to feel like a conversation between past and present, between the artists who inspired me and the artist I’ve become. At the same time, I’m still promoting Bars, Bruises & Breakdown Beats, which really set the tone for everything that’s coming. I’m building out visual content, connecting with listeners online, and laying the foundation for a long-term relationship with my audience. This isn’t a one-album moment for me — I hope to be in this for the long haul.
“Whole Damn Heart” is available now on all major streaming platforms
