I grew up in North Carolina, where the music is as rich and varied as in any place you can imagine. At least it was in my family. Everybody played at least one instrument, and most of us were enthusiastic singers. Mom was fond of pop music, while dad loved bluegrass and what I still refer to as "real" country music, the work of people like Roy Acuff, The Carter Family, Ernest Tubb, Hank Sr., and Loretta Lynn. My grandparents preferred big bands and the standards. We also listened to a good bit of classical music, and we all enjoyed singing hymns and gospel songs. I think I was in junior high school before I realized this was not happening in every family.

My first instrument was the piano, followed by the trumpet in the school band. Then one night I caught a passing glimpse of the TV while Duane Allman was playing guitar on The Midnight Special. I wasn't a huge fan of his music - and I'm still not - but I couldn't stop thinking about his mastery of the instrument. Suddenly, all I wanted was to learn to play guitar. I took lessons for a few months and figured I was ready to start a rock band. We were pretty awful, but blissfully unaware of the fact.

One day a friend who was taking banjo lessons asked if he could play a few tunes with me to get a feel for playing with another person. I invited him to a band rehearsal, and our lead guitarist brought a mandolin. The sound clicked, and before we knew it the three of us had gigs coming out our ears. Good bye rock band.

When we decided we needed a bass player, my dad offered to buy us an upright bass if we could find someone to play it. Why not him? I taught him to play it as best I could, and he and I spent almost 10 years playing and recording together in a band called The Southland Ramblers. Long after I had moved away to college and gone on to other things, dad kept The Southland Ramblers moniker alive with new faces - including mom on dobro! - until his passing.

In art school, I kept the music thing going by playing solo in restaurants and for weddings, wakes, circumcisions and laundromat openings. When I got out of school, I had the great good fortune to find a job. And the misfortune that it wasn't in art or music. I essentially stopped playing publicly for about 15 years.

In the meantime, I got myself a fine woman, a procession of good dogs and a job in Pennsylvania that paid the bills. Suzy (my wife) and I carved out a nice life for ourselves, thank you very much.

Little did I know that another chapter in my musical life was yet to be written. One of the musicians I met in the area, my good friend Frank, told me about Song Fight, a songwriting competition website he had discovered. Before long I was writing and submitting material. The Song Fight experience blossomed into a rejuvenation of my musical activity. I started writing and recording again and playing guitar in Frank's group, Frankie Big Face. Suddenly I found myself reading equipment specs, buying guitars, shopping for amps, and unpacking all my recording equipment again. It's more work (and a lot more expensive) than I remember. I'm lovin' it.

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More recently, I've changed jobs and relocated again -- this time to New Jersey (I know...insert NJ joke here.) The logistics of making such a change put a damper on my time, and consequently I wrote and recorded very few songs for about a year. We're finally settled in and I'm getting a little free time back these days, so I'm hoping you can look for things to pick up around here again soon.