Songs are where souls feel seen.
Music for feeling your story.
My musical roots are wildly uncool.
No Johnny Cash, the Clash, or Dylan. My earliest musical memories are of the soft rock my mom listened to on our travels around town in the family station wagon. (To be clear, I'm not mad about that. I love a good love song.)
But for me, it was Springsteen who changed everything.
At bedtime I'd pop one of The Boss's cassettes into my hand-me-down stereo and play it on repeat as quietly as I could so I wouldn't get in trouble — the tape clicking back and forth between sides all night long.
Years later, I have vivid memories of one particular song, a live version of Thunder Road, Springsteen alone at the piano. By then, I was old enough to drive, but not bold enough to leave. I remember many Saturday nights slipping out of some hangout where I'd been a wallflower or a punching bag, putting that song on in the car, rolling down the windows even in winter (actually, especially in winter) and driving to the edges of the known world to see what lay beyond. Rewinding it over and over again.
It's funny. So much of my life has had the feeling that search is never ending.
Music became my refuge in the midst of the confusing pain, longing, hope, and loneliness of growing up. Somehow I felt seen, understood, and just a little less alone in the space of those songs and stories. I was hooked.
Fast forward through a dozen plus records, and the blessing of more than a decade touring full-time. The songs have taken me on adventures I never imagined — both out in the world and in the recesses of my heart and mind. And, more than 30 years into this beautiful craft, I still feel like a beginner with so much to learn and share. Each time a song grants me the privilege of being its vessel, I'm speechless with giddy awe and gratitude.
Also, it's still just really really really fun.
At the intersection of James Taylor and Bruce Springsteen
— with Garth Brooks directing traffic.
That’s where my sound lives.
My songs are notes from the highs and lows of the journey, and from the journeys of the people I meet along the way. Set to a melody and offered up in the hope of catching a glimpse of something that moves, heals, and maybe offers a few deep breaths.
I’ve been blessed to perform for audiences ranging in size from one to thousands at festivals, camps, conferences, bars, coffeehouses, living rooms, and a couple of rooftops, too. Among them have been iconic rooms like the Bluebird Café in Nashville, The Bitter End in New York City, and Eddie's Attic in Atlanta. I’ve had the great privilege of sharing the stage with jaw-droppingly gifted artists — notable and lesser known. And driven more miles than I can count.
Thank you for the privilege of sharing my art with you. I do so very much hope you find something that serves you waiting between the words and notes.
Much of my music is streaming in all the places with new music still to come. If you’re new to my music, start here with my most recent record called Yes, And.
A Through-line
What I do as a singer-songwriter and as an authentic communication coach come from the same place. A deep belief that your story matters. And that the world is better when more of the real you shows up in it.
That’s why my path has long also included serving as a speaker. Calling you into living more of your story.
Bring the music (and more) to you.
Some of the most meaningful shows I've ever played happened in someone's living room. That and the ones at a retreat, camp, fundraiser, or community gathering.
So if you've ever thought “this is exactly the kind of thing my people need” — you might be more right than you know.
My shows aren't just music. When I get the chance to serve with a song, rarely is it without a story or conversation. And when I get to serve with a talk, rarely is my guitar out of arm’s reach — just in case.
The experience leaves people feeling a little more connected, and a little more like themselves. Which, it turns out, is something a lot of us are quietly hungry for.
If you're curious about what that could look like for your home, organization, or event — let's talk.
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Booking Questions
Let’s chat about coming to your neck of the woods.
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