I am 27 years old. I moved to Utah from California 8 years ago, about the same time I started to play guitar and sing. I came here to ski, and the mountains are still the anchor that holds me here.
My major musical influence is David Wilcox, and when I read that he started his career playing on the street, I thought that must be the place to start. So in 1997 I began playing on the streets of Provo, mostly on the corner of University and Center. In the fall of 1998, I decided that I shouldn't stop playing just because it got cold, so I bought some P.A. equipment and started playing inside. My first ever "gig" was in February of 1999, so I've just had my 1st anniversary as a "professional" musician.
At about the same time I started playing inside, I began writing the songs that would eventually become "Secret Smile". Simultaneously, I had the good fortune to run into an old friend, local musician Finn Bjarnson, who offered to produce my first album in a small project studio he had with another mutual friend. The next thing I knew, I was sitting in a basement with headphones on, experiencing the agony of recording for the first time. Recording the album was a fantastic learning experience; I'm very proud of it, what it says, and the stage of my career it captured.
About halfway through the project, I left my job in the software industry to pursue music full-time. I look back over my shoulder constantly and wonder if I made the right choice, but for now I'm happy with the fact that I wake up every day looking forward to the work of writing, practicing, and building interest in my music. I have the time now to really focus on what I'm trying to communicate and express through music, and I think it's showing in the new songs I'm writing.
The question I constantly ask myself is, "why am I doing this?" My biggest fear is that I will end up wasting everyone's time with music that means nothing, that doesn't shine any light on the problem of how to make sense of life and love. I have thought a lot about the music that has meant so much to me (songs by David Wilcox, Chuck Pyle, Ani DiFranco, John Gorka, Cheryl Wheeler, Indigo Girls, and on and on) and I came to realize that they all somehow made me think about things from a little bit different perspective. So that's what I try to do, both for myself and for those who listen. Everyone has something to add to the never-ending process of overcoming adversity and discovering joy; music is my way of expressing myself, and whatever yours is, I hope that you do it thoughtfully so that we all might benefit from your experience.
This doesn't mean that all music must be deep or positive. There is room for every emotion in music, and as long as it's real, it all helps us explore the incredible depth and range of life. Woody Guthrie said, "A song can't just be good, it has to be good for something." That's the point, really. We have too little time to spend it on things that look good on the surface but that have nothing to offer but an image.
When I'm not playing for whoever will listen, working on new songs, or calling a club owner for the 15th time to book a gig, I'm probably out skiing in the Provo backcountry. If there's no snow, things get a little complicated, as I split time between mountain biking, climbing, running, kayaking, and soccer. I believe that having a physical connection to the earth is the key to balance. The abstraction of the physical world in modern life has left us adrift, insulated from the reality that we are inextricably linked to the world in which we live. Can you tell that I read lots of Terry Tempest Williams and Edward Abbey?
Thanks for your interest in my music. I hope we get the chance to meet some day so that you can tell me about the things you love