Music has always been the basis of my life. My earliest memories involve sneaking into my parents’ vinyl collection, carefully pulling records from their sleeves, and letting curiosity guide the needle. One moment it was classical or jazz, the next country, Three Dog Night, folk harmonies, the collection of Motown Records, or the brightness of Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass. I didn’t know it then, but I was already learning how different sounds speak to different parts of the soul.

 

As a teenager, music became both a ritual and an obsession. I kept a handwritten notebook where I tracked songs day by day of what was rising, what was falling, and what simply refused to let go of me. At the same time, my friends and I were making a weekly pilgrimage to University City to see The Rocky Horror Picture Show. From ages 14 to 16, we happily drove 45 minutes each way, every week, because music, performance, and shared experience felt essential, even then, before I knew what it meant to me.

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Growing up in the country meant live music wasn’t always close, but that never stopped us. Seeing a show at the Checkerdome felt monumental, something you planned for and treasured. Over the years, I learned to watch live music the way some people watch sports, with full attention, heart racing, and total immersion. From the Grateful Dead to Lou Donaldson and Dr. Lonnie Smith, from Rosanne Cash to George Porter Jr. and Magic City, from Fragile Porcelain Mice to Buddy Guy and Ani DiFranco, live shows became my classroom, my church, and my joy.

 

If I could see live music every night, I would. Radio, for me, is an extension of that same love: a way to share discovery, movement, history, and feeling. My show is built on curiosity and connection, mixing grooves, stories, and sounds that have shaped me, and inviting listeners to feel that same spark.