There is a reason I am on this Planet Earth. History and environment explain none of it.

I make music.

I do not read or write music in the traditional sense.

I play several instruments, but do not consider myself a musician.

I am a storyteller and a poet.

Music simply makes my poetry come to life in a manner the printed page cannot. I play one chord and write a single phrase and it begins. Start in the middle and write away from it, then up to it. In some ways it is an expression of that ongoing conversation you might have with a friend or lover.

Speak a word. Create an imaginary conversation around it. Make your point. What affects you or touches you emotionally? What is close to your heart? What is your story? Make the language your own. Break and make the rules. It can be conversational. Write from every point of view simultaneously…. I, me, you, them….  Much like a Rorschak inblot test, there is no right or wrong answer, only YOUR answer.

Sometimes I will search the guitar or piano or bass for a secret it is willing to tell and combine it with a lyric that suits the moment. At other times, I will already hear the melody in my head and with an instrument, speak it out loud. Every so often a cliché or series of phonetic word sounds speak to me and it becomes a tune.

Unlike most people, I will play and write, then put it down. Sometimes I go weeks, months, even years and do NOT write or play or sing. Write feverishly for long periods and simply walk away. When I come back I am fresh, as if I’ve never done it before, still with a storehouse of ideas and pieces parts that come floating back to me.

I surround myself with talented, creative players and together we breathe life into the material. That can be the complicated part of the equation. Playing music with others is the foundation of a very special personal relationship. It is the sharing of a language to a secret we each understand.

Without them, I am just a dreamer dreaming. I am a lucky man.