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Music has always had a quiet but persistent hold on me. In the late 1990s, before algorithms and endless playlists, finding music felt like an act of devotion. I would stay up late, tuning into local college radio stations, searching for electronic sounds that had no real venue and no obvious home. These weren’t records you could just walk into a store and buy. So I recorded them, carefully, onto mix tapes, capturing fleeting moments from the airwaves before they disappeared. It felt like discovery in its purest form, music found rather than delivered.

Those late nights stretched into weekends shaped by voices and shows that expanded my world. I pulled what I could from CKCU and CHUO, then absorbed broader influences from Chris Sheppard’s broadcasts and weekly billboards, especially progressive trance. Electronic music wasn’t just something I listened to—it became a landscape I explored. My uncles were instrumental in this, all musicians in their own right, passing along the understanding that music was something you made, not just consumed. A special mention goes to my cousin Joey, whose intricate electronic creations rewired how I saw what was possible. Watching him build such layered works of art broke my brain; for a long while, I never imagined that level of creation could exist within my own realm, and I remained a spectator to the magic he was making.

Between 2004 and 2006, that idea took a more tangible form. Alongside my buddy Dan, I learned to play the guitar and began writing songs of my own. We weren’t chasing perfection; just sound, structure, and feeling. A handful of songs emerged during that time, rough around the edges but honest. Then life intervened in the way it often does. Family came first, and music shifted into the background, not abandoned but patiently waiting.

That pull led me back 20 years, to the songs I’d written in 2006. I dusted them off and reimagined them, this time through a jazz lens. Five old tunes were reshaped, two new ones written, and then, the album was completed with a French song that still breaks my heart when I hear it. That project didn’t feel like nostalgia. It felt like resolution. From there, I began exploring post-punk, and I’m now working toward a release of roughly a dozen songs, hopefully arriving during the Christmas vacation season. Each phase has felt less like reinvention and more like continuation.

Along the way, the support around me has mattered deeply. My kids have been endlessly enthusiastic, genuinely engaged with the music I’m creating, which has been both grounding and energizing. And my friend Karim (an artist himself),who has always been a catalyst. He has a way of pushing work not just toward completion, but toward refinement, helping me tie it off cleanly, with intention and care. I don’t know exactly where this path leads next, but my creative mind is fully alight right now. I’m more excited than I’ve been in over a decade, and that spark has even reignited a desire to write a non-fiction book. Whatever comes next, it feels alive, That, more than anything, feels like home.

An Informative Text Blurb

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