The Beginnings of My Musical Journey: A Personal Exploration of Music's Power and Beauty

Music affects us in various ways. We’re drawn to it for different reasons, at distinct times, and in desperate moods. We gravitate toward styles, genres, and voices that reflect something, sometimes something we didn’t know was there. Music is a profound and persistent part of every life. It shapes how we feel about ourselves and others. It influences our perspectives on film and television. It animates our spirituality. It’s the closest we come to knowing that we might all think and feel similarly.

Music is a mirror. It reflects parts of ourselves we might never otherwise relate to or share, if it didn’t feel like our favorite musicians were singing directly to us. That intimacy, that resonance, is what makes music essential. My musical interests have varied greatly over the years, and to establish some credibility in taking on the pressure of writing a music column, I think it’s important for readers to know a few things:

Childhood: I was raised listening to the Rolling Stones, Van Halen, the Doobie Brothers, the Guess Who, the Beatles, Eric Clapton, Simon & Garfunkel, Pink Floyd, Kenny Loggins, Crosby, Stills & Nash, Jimmy Buffett, and others. Our California home echoed with their voices.

The ’90s: A compilation of Smashing Pumpkins, Tim McGraw, Blink-182, John Michael Montgomery, Jeff Buckley, Third Eye Blind, Nirvana, Alison Krauss, the Eagles, R.E.M., Bush, Dinosaur Jr., Weezer, Willie Nelson, the Beach Boys, Trisha Yearwood, Matchbox Twenty, Metallica, Reba McEntire, Elliott Smith, Garth Brooks—and more.

Millennium: A deep dive into hardcore punk (late ’80s and early '90s), indie rock, and indie folk.

The Last Decade: A distillation. The most important songs in my life have revealed themselves, and the rest have quietly slipped away.

I’ve been lucky to have several extraordinary musical experiences. I attended Ray LaMontagne and Brandi Carlile’s performance at Big Sky Brewing Co. in Missoula, Montana. A miracle of logistics involving flights from Santa Fe to LAX to Seattle-Tacoma, an emergency landing in Spokane, and a final descent into Missoula at some ungodly hour. I stumbled upon Andrew Bird playing a free show at the Guggenheim while aimlessly wandering on a day off in New York City. I was part of a crowd that rushed the stage at a Black Flag concert in San Antonio, at the last Warped Tour I ever attended.

I sipped a Happy Camper IPA while Xavier Rudd and Jenny Lewis & The Watson Twins performed at Santa Fe Brewing Co. I danced as Neko Case, The Roots, Josh Ritter, Crooked Fingers, and Broken Social Scene played the Twilight Concert Series in downtown Salt Lake City. I was moved to tears while Beirut performed on a small stage in a giant warehouse in New Mexico. I listened in awe as Cat Stevens and Ozzy Osbourne traded “Peace Train” and “Crazy Train” on the lawn of the Smithsonian in Washington, D.C. I knew every word at Garth Brooks’ concert in San Antonio after his 18-year hiatus. I saw Sufjan Stevens dressed as a majestic snowbird at the Paramount Theatre in Austin. I watched Hawk and a Hacksaw perform on the deck of Meow Wolf’s Due Return. And I discovered Brown Bird—what would become a lifelong obsession—at a recording studio in northern New Mexico.

Music has been one of the most influential forces in my life. I can’t imagine a world without the harmony it’s created for me, or the clarity it’s afforded. I had a musical upbringing. My mom can pick up any instrument and play it proficiently by ear within hours. My father is a classically trained pianist. I play guitar, banjo, piano, saxophone, and drums. I don’t perform anymore, but making music remains a form of expression when nothing else does.

I wrote a music column for the Hill Country Weekly in Boerne, Texas, during a time when the town’s once-remarkable music scene was losing its edge. I wrote that column because music moves me deeply, and because sharing that feeling with others felt necessary. I wanted to write about the musicians and songs that shaped me, the shows I attended, and the new music I discovered. That’s why I’m writing this collection of music essays now, and publishing them here, on my website.