A number changed.

I'd be lying if I didn't admit to fantasizing about this number over the years, and I don't think a single dedicated YouTube creator hasn't at some point. Yet, here I am, watching the numbers turn over. I feel...incredibly agnostic.

What is perhaps more interesting is how this number or metric changed meaning so many times. 6 years ago, when sitting at a table with Loopop and Andrew Huang (two incredibly inspiring music creators who had far larger platforms than mine at the time), I considered that this metric meant that I would one day have access to virtually unlimited music making tools. When a synthesizer or guitar pedal manufacturer had a new design, I'd be among the few to get to make music on it before it was fully released to the public.

Then, as the shelves of my studio became more and more cluttered, I realized that these tools actually did very little for my music or personal expression. They made good YouTube content though. I eventually realized that this content was akin to the output of a contemporary ad agency. More importantly, as my personality and beliefs trickled out, I began to feel the weight of this. I got legal threats from Behringer. I very publicly invited the largest music retailer in America to perform oral sex on me. I started to understand that being an "influencer" would come at the expense of my autonomy. The "YouTube Benn" would have to differ from the person my friends and family know. There's nothing wrong this, generally speaking. When a creator exists in a sub-genre or specific hobby demographic, their critique of the system itself isn't typically desired. When I want to find out more about a telescope mount I'm considering buying, I don't particularly care to learn about an ethical problem within the supply chain. Product reviewers are valuable, it's just that, after a lot of trial and error, I learned that I do not possess with restraint or patience to be one.

I incorporated as a non-profit so there would be no personal incentive from YouTube revenue, Patreon memberships, or sponsorship windfalls outside of the increased growth of the channel's scope and projects. I would no longer be able to look at an endorsement in a way that linked to the comfort of my retirement decades from now. Virtually every person I was close with in the social media world thought this idea was risky and potentially pointless. Ironically, I agreed with them. The channel would probably stagnate with the majority of my viewer demographic, but there would no longer be a path to follow or ceiling to hit my head on.

It was really tough for a while. I'd put 100% of my time and budget into answering a question or exploring a difficult topic only to see viewership numbers that were a fraction of what a synthesizer review video yielded. But in this lull I began to learn how to sell ideas, when to approach something lightly, and when to be as serious as possible. I started to understand the delicate balance between making a video for the purpose of getting views and making a purely selfish video that few people will actually want to click and watch.

That's when the ceiling really blew off. ADHD drug shortage, Ghanaian scammers and witchcraft, a 45 minute video essay on post-capitalism, etc. The channel's subjects and content lost all predictability but remained cohesive through the mutual exploratory voyage myself and viewers would take together. That's when I found my flow and truly started enjoying being a YouTuber.

I'd love to assume that the individuals making up this massive 7-digit number grew to this size because I'm likable, funny, or intelligent. The truth is, it's far more likely that the x-factor for this channel's growth is a musician and high school dropout proving that the thing preventing viewers from exploring difficult topics or following through on a weird idea is hierarchical and intangible. If this flawed person can wake up in the morning with a hair-brained idea and spend their free time pursuing or researching it, what's stopping you? Perhaps my value to my subscribers is providing an antidote to some of their imposter syndromes. I could come up with theories all night, but the point is:

This community is full of musicians who are more skilled at music production than I am, scientists with more useful research, engineers with far better code, and personalities that are far warmer, funnier, and approachable than mine. What we all have in common is the desire to build a spotlight that we can use to explore the darkness, and the desire to share our findings with one another. Sometimes that darkness hides something playful and innocent like a bird song or microphone trick. Other times it is hiding more serious things like tools an oppressive government is using against its own people or the failure of an economic system.

Somehow this journey of mine allowed me to be where this diverse group of curious and motivated people congregate, and that alone eclipses whatever joy or validation I could take away from an arbitrary landmark number of YouTube subscribers.

It's a big, impressive, and unfathomable number. But it's also the only thing that has changed on this channel between last week and today. My agnosticism about reaching 1,000,000 subscribers is not because I'm unwilling to recognize the accomplishment, but because I've already been far more proud and impressed by the community associated with it.

I wanted to thank everyone who has supported me on this journey.
And now that I see how much I just freestyle-rambled into this post, thanks for reading.

Back to work!
This week I embark on a journey across America to record infra/ultrasonic noise pollution around large data centers in hopes to create or contribute to an acoustic health standard that can be used by local governments for zoning near residential areas. Of course, this will tie in to a video project that I will hopefully have out in early February.