It’s wild how some songs sneak up on you—how they somehow manage to tinker with your inner wiring. One second you’re just vibing, and the next, you’re knee-deep in your own memories. Some tracks hit hard—so hard, they remind you of everything you thought you’d moved past. Others? They brush by like a breeze. But then there are those rare songs that feel like something bigger. Something personal.

Because music isn’t just background noise. It’s not just a soundtrack. It’s a mirror. A companion. A reminder. Whether it takes you back to something beautiful you didn’t want to end—or something painful you couldn’t wait to get through—music has a way of tagging along through all of it.

And for me? Djo’s “End of Beginning” (2022) is that song.

Now, look—I know that might not be what the song technically means. But that’s the beauty of it, right? Music doesn’t always hit everyone the same way. To me, this track feels like the moment after the hustle. That surreal feeling when you finally look up from the grind, the chaos, the skipped plans, the mental strain—and realize, “Holy shit… I made it.”

You know what I mean. That breakthrough moment. When everything you poured your heart, soul, and caffeine into finally turns into something real. Maybe you hit a milestone. Maybe you survived something. Or maybe, you just grew in a way that felt impossible before. It’s heavy. It’s emotional. It’s earned.

And that’s the energy “End of Beginning” gives me. A quiet, cinematic kind of triumph.

Now, let’s talk sonics. The production here is gorgeously unpredictable—classic indie-pop with a twist. It opens in a way that almost feels… off. Not in a bad way. More like: “Wait, where’s this going?” The synths jingle in, the drums tap gently underneath, and Joe Keery’s vocals float just above the surface. It feels fragile. A bit odd. Like something’s about to bloom.

Then comes the chorus.

Goosebumps.

That’s when everything elevates. The melody swells, the harmonies multiply, and suddenly you’re not just listening—you’re feeling the track wash over you. It’s warm, grand, cinematic as hell. The kind of chorus that feels like standing at the edge of a memory while the credits roll.

What makes this hit even harder is how subtle it all is. Keery doesn’t overdo it. There’s no overproduction or vocal acrobatics. The power is in the restraint. In the way all the instruments quietly synchronize to carry you through the track without shouting. It just slaps—not in a loud, obvious way, but in the way it wraps itself around your thoughts long after it ends.

But above all, it’s the message that lingers: learning to let go of past versions of yourself. The things you did ten years ago? The people you once were? They don’t always follow you. And that’s okay. Because growth means shedding. Moving forward doesn’t always mean forgetting—but it does mean choosing what stays.

Sure, it’s bittersweet. But it’s also a kind of quiet victory. Like the emotional version of a deep exhale after a long fight.

That’s why “End of Beginning” resonates. Not just as a song, but as a moment. A reflection. A reminder that change is not only inevitable—but sometimes, beautiful.

So go ahead—plug in, turn it up, and let it carry you. You might just hear your own story in there too.