It started as a release; it was an escape. My mind would wander over the notes and rudimentary chords. The first few weeks were cacophony — then — as if teased forth — melodies and harmonies began to emerge.

Music had been a knee jerk reaction. Looking back, it was an inevitable response to the emotional drain that could be found waiting for me at the university hospital. It was unending. It was death and sorrow. There were sparks of hope. There were moments of medical triumph. But, it wasn’t enough. For the human psyche — at least for my psyche — it was too much to bear.

So, I began to create music. My childhood curiosity had drawn me to computers at an early age. So, constructing a small digital recording studio around my laptop was relatively easy. Seven years of classical music education didn’t help as much as I thought. As my music began to take shape, word spread. Inexplicably, musicians bearing saxophones, electric guitars, portable keyboards, and even harmonicas began to show up at my door.