I am grateful that you have taken the time to listen! You are reading this because we have crossed paths and most likely impacted one another. I do not take these encounters lightly! Because I’m not just an artist and you are not just a listener. To me, YOUR voice and YOUR story are ringing loud and clear. Sometimes like a symphony, sometimes like a train wreck! And such is life…. And such is our lives… We must embrace both the joy and the pain. My music just so happens to reflect the way I feel. It helps make me the most effective at portraying that balance. Take a listen and reflect on your own portrayal….

I was a deaf, tow-headed white kid who thought he was Michael Jackson. I’m serious…..Not even trying to be funny! The crazy thing is that my mother supported my idea. I even had a back story. “My name is Michael Jackson and I have a sick mother in California. I need to ride my motorcycle there to be with her.”

I wasn’t completely deaf, but I couldn’t hear much until I got tubes put in my ears when I was young. But not hearing others clearly, or my own pitch for that matter, didn’t filter away the music that was wellin’ up within me. I knew every tip, tap, horn line, backbeat, upbeat, crescendo, and hook of everything that I heard.

I couldn’t sing or play any instruments, but I’d captivate audiences using a broomstick as a guitar and a vacuum cleaner as a personal microphone with built-in stand. I didn’t get my first instrument until much later. It didn’t matter because I was just putting a voice to the music that had already been pouring out of me. As young children, my big brother JJ and I would craft songs and raps with full production. All instruments were duplicated with our mouths, and maybe whatever percussion was around, like a #2 pencil on a perfectly tuned cereal bowl.

My mother would play her guitar and sing and it fascinated me. It was only a matter of time before the guitar found me when I was 15 years old. I learned how to play very quickly and immediately started writing songs. I wrote my first song literally locked in my grandmother’s house due to her perfectly valid fear that I would sneak out. It had a very upbeat, Counting Crows “Mr. Jones” feel. The song was a clear cry for help, calling on a higher power to “show me the way.” The song was seemingly prophetic because shortly thereafter, as a misdirected 16-year-old, I was sent to the Paul Anderson Youth home, founded by Paul Anderson, the strongest man who ever lived, and his wife Glenda.

This place gave me the mental, physical, and emotional tools to persevere and overcome. My time at the home saved my physical life, but most importantly, this is where my higher power showed me the way. After an 18-month stay at Paul Anderson, I left to be a bona-fide travelin’ minister, a.k.a. missionary. This made complete sense to me because I was combining my love for people and my love for God. For three years I relied on the support from anyone, anywhere, to eat and sleep. Two of those years were spent playing drums in a band with other full-time missionaries. During our concerts we would switch instruments. I’d go up front with the guitar, and sing some of my songs. The response was positive, and pretty soon I realized that this was what I was put on this earth to do. That was 13 years ago, and after playing music in a bunch of different countries and just about every state under my belt, my purpose is still the same. We the people are hurting and we need help.

Music is a very powerful entity. I try to harness that power in order to motivate myself and others, so that we can enjoy our time on earth. If you are lacking in joy, I’d like to remind ourselves that we possess the will to choose a higher power. His joy is never lacking and His strength is perfect. Entertainment is fine and dandy, and me in the band can boogie down and show you a real good time….. But more importantly, I want to converse with your soul, to listen to your soul, so we may share and hope together. I’ll listen to your story and sing for your journey.

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