The Aftermath of Almost: Mike Schiavo’s “binging” and the Fight Within
- Rebecca McDevitt
- 9 hours ago
- 3 min read
Article Contributed by Rebecca McDevitt
Fourteen years ago, Mike Schiavo was performing in a small pizza shop in New Jersey, the kind of venue where the stage feels temporary but the ambition does not. Backed by members of Aaron Carter’s former touring band, the show carried an odd duality: hyper-local grit paired with a glimpse of something bigger. Even then, Schiavo sang like someone already imagining Los Angeles.
Now, Los Angeles is home.
His latest single, “binging”, deliberately styled in lowercase, strips away everything but the essentials. Just acoustic guitar and vocals. No layered production. No studio gloss. The sparseness feels intentional. There’s nowhere to hide.
At its core, “binging” is a meditation on self-perception, on the long shadow cast by insecurity and the ways we learn to cope before we learn to understand.
Throughout the track, Schiavo repeats the refrain, “if I knew then what I know now,” turning hindsight into a quiet ache. It doesn’t feel like tidy wisdom earned with age. It feels like someone replaying old moments, searching for the point where they might have been gentler with themselves.
One of the song’s most vivid memories reaches back to when he was thirteen, catching his reflection at a strange angle and convincing himself he looked bigger than the April before. It’s a fleeting image, but that’s how insecurity often embeds itself: in offhand glances and distorted reflections that linger long after the mirror is gone.
Later, he sings about bringing his demons to Los Angeles with him. The cross-country move, the industry gamble, even an appearance on The Voice — none of it left those demons behind. Public rejection and private doubt collided. Geography changed. The struggle did not.
But the song’s emotional turning point arrives when Schiavo reflects on turning twenty-five and finally recognizing that he was hurting. “Yeah Mike, you deserve it,” he sings; not as a declaration of ego, but as an acknowledgment of humanity. Within that same passage, he admits:
“maybe I wouldn’t have withheld all of my grace, maybe I’d be nicer to myself to start my days, maybe I’d have found some better ways to deal with pain.”
It is a striking confession. The regret isn’t about missed industry milestones. It’s about the kindness he didn’t extend to himself. The grace he withheld. The coping mechanisms he adopted before he had the language for healing.
The acoustic minimalism makes every word land heavier. His voice carries restraint, tension, and something close to release. There’s no dramatic swell to cue emotion. Just an artist narrating his internal battle in real time.
There is something uniquely brutal about being “almost.” Almost the breakout story. Almost the industry success. The music world celebrates winners and reinventions, but rarely lingers on the long middle, the years spent trying to untangle self-worth from public validation. “binging” lives in that middle.
It is not a triumphant comeback. It is not a neatly packaged redemption arc. It is an artist confronting the younger version of himself and wishing he had been softer.
And in a culture that often rewards self-criticism more than self-compassion, that confrontation feels radical.
Mike Schiavo is still in Los Angeles. Still writing. Still wrestling with the same inner voice he’s finally learning to quiet.
This time, with a little more grace.
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