Letting the Music Back Into the World (Why I Stopped Sharing — and Why I’m Ready Again)
Where do I fit?
For the better part of fifteen years, I’ve kept my music close to my chest. I never stopped writing. I never stopped experimenting. I never stopped disappearing into that creative space where songs take shape. But I did stop releasing music publicly — and it wasn’t because I ran out of ideas. I had plenty.
The truth is, when streaming took over the music world, I didn’t know where I fit anymore.
When the Industry Shifted, I Stepped Back
There was a moment when the landscape changed so quickly that artists like me had to reassess everything. Music was no longer something people purchased — it became something accessed, shuffled, algorithmically served, and often quietly undervalued. The economics felt imbalanced. The system felt impersonal.
More than that, the culture around it began to feel competitive in a way that never resonated with me.
I watched an endless stream of music — some thoughtful, some not — being pushed relentlessly, shouted into feeds, promoted constantly, all chasing the same attention. I realized that participating meant doing something that felt deeply uncomfortable: competing for ears, marketing myself loudly, and potentially becoming part of a noise I didn’t believe in.
Music was never a competition to me. At its core, it was about connection.
So I stepped back. Quietly, and deliberately. I knew it would come with a sense of loss — and it did. But it felt more honest than forcing myself into a system that didn’t align with how I want to show up in the world.
The Loss Was Real — and I Accepted It
Even after stepping away from public release, the music itself never stopped. I kept writing. Kept recording. Kept exploring. I just wasn’t sharing any of it.
I missed the connection, but I also knew exactly why I had stepped away.
I missed playing for people, seeing the subtle reactions, hearing the stories about what a song reminded someone of. I missed the conversations that music can spark, and the quiet way it lets us show up for one another. But for a long time, I accepted that absence as the cost of staying true to myself.
What eventually became clear, though, was this:
If connection is what I value most, then hiding the music entirely wasn’t serving that value either.
Streaming as a Doorway — Not the Destination
So this year, I made a decision I never expected to make.
I’m putting my music on streaming platforms.
Not because I believe Spotify or Apple have solved the industry’s problems — they haven’t. The royalties are still small. The system is still imperfect. But I’ve come to see streaming differently.
Streaming isn’t the whole story.
It’s simply a doorway.
If someone hears one of my songs because it appeared in a playlist, or was shared by a friend, or because they searched for my name — that’s a connection I’m willing to welcome. The heart of what I do doesn’t begin or end with a platform. It lives in the music itself. The rest is just how people find it.
Where the Music Truly Lives
While streaming helps people discover the music, Bandcamp is where it truly lives.
Bandcamp supports artists directly. It allows listeners to engage more intentionally — to listen deeply, to support the work in a meaningful way, and to feel connected to the human being behind the songs. That alignment matters to me.
If you’d like to explore my music in a way that feels closer to how it was made — thoughtfully, patiently, and without noise — Bandcamp is the place I’d love to invite you.
A New Chapter with Old Roots
I’ve spent many years quietly making music for myself. Now I’m ready to share again.
I have albums of original material — songs written across different seasons of my life, all waiting patiently. Releasing them now feels like reconnecting with an old friend: familiar, grounding, and quietly exciting.
If you’ve been here for any part of the journey — whether you heard me play once, have known me for decades, or are just discovering my work now — thank you.
This next season is about returning to the joy of sharing. About embracing imperfect tools without letting them define the work. About opening the door to connection again.
I hope to see you on the other side of that door.
