To start, please introduce yourself — your name, where you’re from, what you do, and how long you’ve been doing it.

"My name is Dena G. I was born and raised in Calgary, Alberta. Both of my parents are Iranian, so I have very strong Persian roots, which I deeply admire — the culture, the history, all of it. So, shout out to all my Iranians. I’ve been making music for about five years now, but I’ve been singing my entire life. Music has always been something I knew I wanted to pursue eventually as I grew up."

What emotion or truth are you most often trying to capture when you create your music?

"I try to capture authenticity. Every song I’ve written — whether it’s happy or sad — is rooted in emotions i’ve genuinely felt, either in the moment or during a past experience. I take those emotions and implement them into my music. As I’m writing and singing, those emotions actually grow stronger because the music brings me back to that place. And if I’m already in that emotional moment, the feeling becomes amplified. Authenticity is definitely the core of everything I create."

Can you describe a moment in your life that completely changed how you approach your art?

"There was a phase where I was really seeking validation from other people, especially early on. I think a lot of artists experience that. You’re open to advice, which is important, but for me it reached a point where too many outside opinions started shaping my creative process. That took away from the purpose of writing music. Music is supposed to come from somewhere deep within you — from the heart — and you’re meant to feel a strong connection to it. Once I let go of that need for validation and returned to writing from a place of authenticity, it unlocked something in me. That shift truly improved my sound and my overall artistry. Authenticity brings out the real beauty in things."

When you’re in your creative flow, what does that moment look or feel like for you?

"Most of the time, you’ll find me creating at around 3:00 a.m. Late at night is when everything hits emotionally. The world is quiet, everyone’s asleep, and it’s peaceful. Instead of letting those emotions overwhelm me, I take advantage of them and turn them into art. That’s when I feel most connected to what I’m creating. I usually listen to instrumentals, and when something resonates emotionally in that moment, it sparks melodies and ideas naturally. That late-night calm helps me be more intimate with the music, and that’s when the truest art happens."

How do you define success as an artist, and has that definition evolved over time?
"Success always comes back to authenticity for me — being authentic to yourself first. When you’re authentic, you build a connection with yourself. And loving yourself is the blueprint to everything. If you don’t love yourself, it’s hard to find genuine love or fulfillment anywhere else. Once you unlock that, everything you create comes out in its truest form. People resonate with that because it expresses something they may not be able to articulate themselves."

What’s something you want your listeners to feel or realize after hearing your music, beyond just enjoying it?

"I want people to realize that there’s beauty in emotion — all emotions. When people feel sadness, they often think there’s no hope, but the ability to feel deeply is a beautiful thing in itself. Everyone has a story, and every emotion has a reason behind it. I try to capture the essence of emotion in my music because everything carries symbolism. When all of that comes together, it creates something meaningful and beautiful."

What part of your creative process do you think reveals the most about who you really are?

"My ability to empathize and sympathize with people. I’m a very understanding and considerate person, and I’m not judgmental. I listen. That carries into my music. I want people to feel understood, especially when it comes to emotions that aren’t often talked about. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. When I’m vulnerable in my songs, I want listeners to know that I’ve felt those emotions too."

Have you ever created something that scared you to share? If so, why?

"Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever been scared to share my music. I’ve built a mindset where I don’t worry too much about judgment. What I create comes from real emotions, and I’m confident that if I’ve felt something, someone else has too. Because of that, I’ve never felt afraid to put my work out there — at least not yet."

What keeps you grounded or inspired when you hit creative blocks or self-doubt?

"Everyday life inspires me — just observing my surroundings. Whether I’m on the bus or walking through downtown, watching how people move and interact, even questionable situations can be turned into creative fuel. People also play a huge role in my inspiration. Being surrounded by creative, passionate individuals opens my mind and encourages me to think deeper. People are a beautiful concept, and they’ve definitely shaped my creative process."

If you could talk to your future self as an artist, what would you hope they’ve achieved — not just in fame, but in meaning?

"Connection. I want to connect with people on a deep level through my music. I want listeners to resonate with my songs and feel less alone. Music is therapy for so many people. If one day I create a song that truly impacts and heals a large group of people, that’s when I’ll feel accomplished."

How has living in Calgary — the culture, people, and atmosphere — affected your artistry?

"I’ve only really immersed myself in Calgary’s music scene since late 2024, but so far it’s been incredibly positive. The passion people have for their craft motivates me a lot. Going to events and performing has helped me connect with photographers, videographers, and other creatives. Being surrounded by like-minded people encourages growth and collaboration. Everyone’s been welcoming and supportive, which has made it easier to thrive creatively."

Finally, what’s next for you, and what goals do you have moving forward?

"I recently dropped an important project called Diamante. It came out late last year, so it still feels very fresh, and I want to continue building momentum around it. One of my main goals now is to create my first official music video — and to do it properly. I’ve done performances, networking, and photoshoots, but visuals are the next step. Beyond that, I want to keep perfecting my sound, promoting my work, and staying consistent. Consistency is what leads to the bigger picture."

To begin, please introduce yourself. Tell us your name, what you do, how long you’ve been doing it, and where you’re from.

"What’s good — my name is Eric, also known as 90 Proof. I’m from Alberta, specifically Calgary. I’m a musician, producer, and engineer. I play close to every instrument, I’m a songwriter, and I’m my own artist. I’ve been doing this professionally for about five years now, and I’m still growing and evolving every day."

What emotion or truth are you most often trying to capture when you create your music?

"For me, it’s my honest truth — my real reality in the moment I’m trying to portray. A lot of my music is based on my lived experiences: things I’ve been through, things I’ve battled internally, including drug addiction and other personal struggle. Music is therapy for me. That emotional side is what I value most. I tend to bottle things up, and even though I’m better at talking about my feelings now, it took a lot of work to get here. Even today, I still struggle to talk sometimes — so music becomes my outlet. There are ups and downs. I’ve learned how important it is to recognize those peaks and appreciate the moments you’re in, because they can disappear quickly. Sometimes you have to look at yourself in the mirror and say, “You showed up today.” Artists often internalize self-doubt and feel undeserving, but that’s not reality — it’s just a moment you’re passing through. Long story short: it’s okay. All of it is part of the process. Vulnerability doesn’t come easily for everyone, and that’s fine. It’s about finding your own pacing and balance, and using your art as a way to express what words sometimes can’t."

Can you describe a moment in your life that completely changed how you approach your art?

"There were multiple moments, but one of the biggest was when I decided to stop waiting on other people and pick up instruments myself. I picked up the guitar, taught myself drums, and stopped saying, “If only I could play.” I used to hear riffs in my head and think I needed to meet someone to bring them to life. Then I realized — I don’t need to meet the guy. I need to be the guy. I’m not a savant, but I put in consistent time every week learning instruments, production, and sound. That decision changed everything. Another turning point was realizing I needed help with production — stepping away from ego, investing in myself, and actually learning instead of assuming I knew everything. That mindset shift changed my music emotionally and technically. One more thing I think every artist needs to hear: I wasn’t afraid to lose money. I wasn’t afraid to spend my last dollars on the gear I needed or travel for shows and connections. I wasn’t afraid to lock in for years without a “normal” life, because I knew it would pay off later. If you fail — you can get back up. Don’t be afraid to invest in yourself. Fear around money will kill your drive faster than anything."

How do you balance vulnerability and self-protection when expressing personal experiences through your music?

"You don’t balance it — you let it go. You let yourself feel everything in the moment and put that raw emotion into the music. That’s where the truth lives. You can always tell when something is forced. I’ve never sat down and said, “I’m going to write a song today.” It always comes when something’s happening — when I’m overwhelmed and need to release it. Music helps me take those emotions out of my head and put them somewhere else. Sometimes, when I revisit them later, I realize I wasn’t seeing things clearly in the moment — and that’s growth. You can’t put constraints on vulnerability. Don’t worry about being “too deep.” Talk about your feelings. Make music for yourself first. You should love your music enough to play it in your car every day. If you don’t love it, no one else will. Too many artists tailor their work to trends, and that’s not sustainable. Trends change. Authenticity lasts."


When you’re in your creative flow, what does that moment look or feel like?

"I’m very routine-based because of my ADHD. I set intentions, organize my tasks, and prepare my environment before I start. Lighting is huge for me — I hate overhead lights. They feel like hospital lights. I need warm, calm lighting to stay grounded. When I’m in flow state, everything disappears. I’m not here anymore — I’m somewhere else entirely. Time doesn’t exist. I’ll look up and realize eight hours have passed, I’ve missed calls, I haven’t eaten or drank anything. Music is spiritual to me. It’s a universal language. When I’m creating, nothing else matters. That’s why it’s so powerful — and why it can be dangerous if you don’t stay balanced. But it’s also the thing that saved me. I wouldn’t be who I am without music, and I’m endlessly grateful for it."

How do you define success as an artist, and has that definition changed over time?

"Success to me is being able to live comfortably off my art. I don’t need fame. I don’t need excess. I just want to wake up every day doing what I love. You have to be delusional to do this, because you never know if it’s going to work. But that belief is necessary. I’d rather be tired doing something I love than exhausted doing something I hate. Success is sustainability, fulfillment, and staying true to myself — not chasing perception, but building reality."

What’s something you want listeners to feel or realize after hearing your music, beyond just enjoyment?

"Hope. I want people to feel like they’re not crazy for feeling the way they do — and that they’re not alone. My favorite artists were there for me when I needed them most. They made me feel seen. That’s what I want my music to do for others. My music isn’t party music — it’s something you sit with. The stories are open-ended so people can place their own experiences into them. If my music helps someone feel understood or gives them hope, then I’ve done my job."

What part of your creative process do you think reveals the most about who you truly are?

"I’d say my honesty — and my willingness to learn, to fail, and to go through it no matter how messy it gets. I allow myself to experience every version of the process. That includes frustration, anger, self-doubt — wanting to punch a wall some days — but never giving up. What really reveals who I am is that I always come back. I always push through to a conclusion. And when I do, I’m proud of myself. I’m glad I didn’t quit. The process isn’t linear at all. It’s probably the least linear thing you can experience. One day you’re on top of the world, feeling like the best artist alive. The next day — sometimes even the same day — you feel like the worst, questioning everything. I’ve gone from feeling unstoppable in the morning to thinking, “What am I doing? I’m not going to make it,” by the afternoon. But every time that thought shows up, I remind myself: I didn’t stop. I didn’t walk away. I kept coming back, even when I hated everything I was making. Those small patterns — showing up anyway — slowly change your mindset. People say, “Whatever you think becomes your reality,” and I get the idea, but the truth is that humans think some really negative things sometimes. That doesn’t mean you’re doomed. Struggling doesn’t mean you’ve failed. It just means you’re human.

When you keep coming back to your art — whether it’s music, film, painting — that’s your calling pulling you back in. Even if it pisses you off. You’ll always find some peace in it, even if all you can manage that day is one small thing. It’s okay to have downtime. It’s okay to feel stagnant. That doesn’t make you a bad artist — it just means life is heavy right now. Sometimes you have to go back into the studio and suck for a while. Hate everything. Delete it or keep it. Then come back another day and realize you actually love it. It’s all mindset. Shifting it takes time and work, so don’t be so hard on yourself. A lot of people quit because they internalize frustration and decide it’s “not for them.” That’s the test. Being uncomfortable is part of the job. As an artist, you live in discomfort. Most people fold there — and that’s what separates one-hit wonders from people who are here for the long run. The ones who are here for the art."


Have you ever created something that scared you to share — or something you were too embarrassed to put out?

"Oh yeah. Definitely. Early on, when things were going really well — shows selling out, excitement everywhere — my homie and I decided to get super experimental. We tried making a track in a 3/4 time signature. It was some of the worst shit I’ve ever made in my life *laughs*. At one point, we both just looked at each other and said, “This is not it.” *laughs*. I was so relieved he said something, because I was thinking the same thing. That moment was funny, but it was also important — knowing when to scrap something is part of growth. There’s also stuff from my early days as a DJ and producer that I’ll probably never release. I still have my very first vocal recording saved somewhere. It’s awful — but I keep it as a reminder of how far I’ve come. Back then, we were recording in a basement with a cheap mic and two speakers, but it felt like a real studio to us. That’s where it all started."

What keeps you grounded or inspired when you hit creative blocks or self-doubt?

"Honestly, discipline. Getting out of bed even when I don’t want to. Going to the studio even if I feel like shit. Creative blocks get worse when you stay stuck in your own head. Just showing up gives you a chance — even if nothing good comes out that day. At least you stepped out of the fog. Gratitude is huge. Looking in the mirror and reminding myself how far I’ve come — even when it feels like I’ve done nothing that week. The past isn’t a place to live; it’s just something to reflect on. Artists are always living in the past or the future, rarely the present. Opening up helps too. Talking — especially as a man — is still stigmatized, but it shouldn’t be. Everyone feels loneliness, anger, love, loss. If you don’t talk about it, you carry it alone. I’ve learned that the more I open up, the better I feel — and the better my art becomes. Letting go of fear around how people might judge you actually helps people connect with your work. You’d be surprised how many people relate when you speak honestly."

If you could talk to your future self as an artist, what would you hope they’ve achieved — not just in fame, but in meaning?

"Mental clarity. And the ability to genuinely love myself. It’s not about money or status. It’s about waking up and feeling good — even when problems exist. I don’t want to be 60 years old still carrying unresolved emotional weight. There are so many people who are financially successful but deeply unhappy. What’s the point of that? I want to be stable, yes — but more than anything, I want peace."

How has the place you live — the culture, people, and environment — affected your artistry?

"Honestly, it’s been challenging. Alberta — and Canada in general — has potential, but the infrastructure for artists is still lacking. It’s expensive, cities are far apart, and most major artists end up leaving for the U.S. There’s diversity here, but it can be cliquey. There isn’t always enough collaboration or cultural exchange. We’re so divided over things that shouldn’t matter. Music is powerful because it brings everyone together. That’s what I love about it — it cuts through the noise. It allows people to feel each other’s pain, growth, and joy without judgment. That’s also why I care so much about community. I want to help underprivileged youth — kids who don’t have access to instruments, studios, or support. Art gives people somewhere to put their energy. It breaks cycles. Music saved me in many ways, and I want to be part of giving that back."

Finally, what’s next for you? What are your goals moving forward?

"To keep learning. The second you stop learning, creativity dies. I want to explore new genres, new cultures, and never box myself in. This year, I want to build my core community — my tribe. Next year, I want to tour. Long-term, I want to create spaces for artists — studios, headquarters, safe places to create and do business. I want to help bring power back to artists. Help people fall back in love with art. And maybe, along the way, earn some recognition — Junos, Grammys — but that’s not the main goal. The real goal is staying true to my values, my purpose, and the message behind my music — and seeing how it resonates with people across the world."