Everyone has a beginning. Mine started with a cheap, plastic-string Lyle acoustic guitar that would not stay in tune. I used a pair of pliers to tighten the pegs until it sounded close enough.
It wasn't fancy, but it was a start.
One day, after seeing Neil Young tear down the Omni in Atlanta, I went down to Metro Music in Buckhead and left with a black Les Paul. That guitar changed everything. I started writing songs and dreaming a little bigger than this old town.
Not long after, I put together a band called The Onions. We loved The Who and The Rolling Stones, but instead of playing the hits everyone knew, we went for the deep cuts, the obscure songs that only true fans recognized. Most audiences had never heard them, so after our shows people would come tell us how much they loved our songs.
I told the band, “Don't tell them we didn't write those. Just nod and say thanks.”
Those early years were spent bouncing between rehearsals, gigs, and studio sessions, eventually landing me at JBS Studio in Avondale Estates. I wasn't an engineer or producer, but a gofer. Go for this. Go for that. Go for coffee. Go for food. Go for tape reels. Whatever needed to be done.
But after hours, I'd stick my toe in the water of recording in a real studio. Those late nights gave me the chance to experiment and discover what kind of sounds I could make.
Eventually, I recorded my first album there. I called it Block Parents. Even though it was a solo record, I released it under a band name instead of my own.
The title came from something uniquely Atlanta. During the years when Wayne Williams was terrorizing kids in the city, neighborhoods displayed Block Parent signs in their windows, letting children know they could find safety there if they ever needed help. Those signs represented protection, community, and hope in an uncertain time, and the phrase "Block Parents" stuck with me.
Music kept opening doors.
We played college keg parties in Athens, shows at DeKalb College, downtown Atlanta, Margaritaville, and some unforgettable parties at the Atlanta College of Art. Every show seemed to lead to another one, and before long, three of my songs landed in regular rotation on WRAS, Georgia State University's radio station, one of the biggest college stations in the South at the time.
That little bit of radio airplay gave me the confidence to make the leap and try it out in the big city.
So I packed up and moved to New York City.
The East Village was unlike anything I'd ever experienced. Art, music, photography, and film, it felt like every sidewalk fueled my creativity.
I got hired by MTV, where I designed and produced The Week in Rock each week. I also helped redesign MTV News and worked on House of Style with host Cindy Crawford.
It was a far cry from being a gopher in an Atlanta recording studio.
While working there, I formed another band with a group of East Village punk musicians called The Insects. We played all over downtown Manhattan, including six shows at CBGB, the legendary birthplace of American punk rock. We also played Continental Divide, Downtown Beirut, The Spiral, The Cat Club, and Luna Lounge. These were venues where every night felt unpredictable and electric.
Our album, Return to the Foreign Legion, was released and received radio airplay across the country. For a kid who started with a plastic guitar and a pair of pliers, it felt pretty surreal.
Looking back, I realize there was never a master plan. I simply kept saying, "Yes, I can," following whatever inspired me and trusting that music would keep leading the way.
That's what this blog is about.
The stories behind the songs, the people I met along the way, the paintings, the albums, the mistakes, and the moments that somehow turned into a life in art.
When I got knocked down, I picked myself up, dusted myself off, and started again. That's actually a Sinatra lyric, but it's what I've done ever since.
The bottom line and my recommendation to you all is,
Failure is not final.