Coming Back to the Stage

Where It Began

Growing up with a father who played music was something special, though I didn’t fully understand it at the time. Music was simply part of the atmosphere of our home — especially during holidays like Christmas, when my dad would pick up an acoustic guitar and lead us in singing carols. His friends were often musicians as well, so harmony entered my world early and naturally.

We usually sang along, but we didn’t have to. Sometimes it was enough just to sit and absorb the warmth and joy in the room. Those moments always felt a little magical. I also remember watching my father come offstage after performances — if I was lucky enough to attend an all-ages show — and seeing the genuine gratitude people expressed toward him. Even as a child, it was clear he had a gift, and just as important, that his heart was in the right place in wanting to share it.

Learning to Play — and to Perform

As a kid, I learned to play guitar and drums, but my interests were wide and varied, and I didn’t pursue any one thing with great intensity. That changed in my teenage years, when I began practicing more seriously, driven by a desire to express myself musically — and perhaps by the hope that one day I might perform live the way I had seen my father do so many times.

Before long, I found myself in a band, playing lead guitar. I loved playing live. Every gig felt exciting — not just because of the audience, but because of the shared experience with my bandmates. In our heyday, we sometimes played to crowds of over a thousand people. It was exhilarating.

When Something Shifted

Over time, though, something shifted within me. Gradually, my enthusiasm began to fade. This coincided with broader changes in live music itself — as bands became less central to social spaces, replaced more and more by DJs and pre-recorded entertainment. While I have my own thoughts about why that happened, the reasons didn’t change the reality: crowds grew smaller, and the energy changed.

Around the same time, I became a parent. With children came responsibility, and with responsibility came hard choices about where to spend my time and energy. Playing live was becoming less fulfilling, and it wasn’t paying the bills. My relationship with performance grew complicated. On one hand, music felt like a gift I could — and perhaps should — share. On the other, a gift can only be shared if there are people willing to receive it.

Near the end of that chapter, I began to feel anxiety around playing live. Eventually, I stepped away from it altogether.

What Never Left

What never faded, however, was my love for music itself. The desire to connect through it went quiet for a long time, but it never disappeared. With distance and reflection, I’ve come to realize that for many of those difficult years, I was playing music that wasn’t entirely me, for audiences I wasn’t truly trying to connect with.

The bar scene often favors music that is loud, chaotic, and disposable. When I’m at my most comfortable musically, I’m something else entirely — less loud than expressive, less chaotic and more safe, warm, and inviting. I enjoy excitement and fun as much as anyone, but I’m drawn to a kind that feels intentional and human.

Considering a Return

So here I am now. My children are grown. I’m still making music, though I’ve mostly been keeping it to myself. And something deep inside me is stirring again — a desire to share, to connect, to be in a room with others through sound.

I’m genuinely considering playing live again.

I’m not without hesitation, and there’s still a bit of anxiety there. But there’s excitement too. This time, I’m drawn to the idea of doing it solo — approaching performance from a different angle, with a clearer sense of who I am and who I’m hoping to reach.

Meeting in the Music

I feel a gentle pull toward the music I grew up with, and I imagine carrying some of that same warmth forward — creating a space where the sound feels safe, expressive, and quietly exhilarating. Maybe there are others looking for that too. If so, I’d love to meet you there amongst the warmth and glow of our presence.

Let’s gather in a beautiful space and share some music together.