When I was little, I noticed that my mother had bought guitars for both my brothers. I saw how delighted she was with the fact that they were playing, and frankly I wanted her to be delighted with me, too. The instrument absolutely captivated and mystified me, and does to this day. It didn’t take long for me to care very little who noticed. I don’t know why I stuck with it, I suppose that’s just what happens when you fall in love. Through years of failed friendships, romances and family turmoil, I came back time and time again to the world that the guitar had opened up for me. It was a haven, a safer place; one that I could build and rebuild to suit myself. That’s a luxury I didn’t have in the material world. I came across guitar players like John Mayer and KT Tunstall... I fell in love with the way they could express themselves like that, and I endeavored to be able to do the same.
Somewhere along the way - maybe eleven or twelve - I fell in love with words. I had a poem published in a collection of works, and I never forgot the feeling of that book in my hands. I loved the places that words could take me to; places far away from what I was facing in ordinary life.
I suppose that when I realized I could combine the two, I became a songwriter by default. My father would sing to me in the car; wonderful folk songs written by the likes of Cat Stevens and Joni Mitchell. These songs were stories, lessons, friends; and they kept me company through the time I spent in places I never belonged: like high school, and at home. I started to write songs as a means of comforting myself; I could listen back to something I wrote the last time I felt lost or alone, and remember how I got through it. Honestly, that’s still what I do to this day.
I never made the decision to be a professional musician. That was just something I realized I was doing. All of what I am, I am by default. My heart beats, my lungs breathe, and I write and sing songs.