Songs You Don’t Just Hear, You Feel
Cracked Bottles, Broken Hearts (Live)
The first entry in Sessions from the Velvet Boot, live songs from my musical, Speakeasy.
Out now.
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In the show, four people sing this one. A drag queen, a priest, a dancer, a bartender, each taking a verse before every voice folds into one. I wanted to hear what happens when a single voice carries what four people usually share. Just a voice and a piano, holding a whole room's worth of loss.
Also Out Now
Read My Lips (Acoustic Version) and Stay Through the Storm (Acoustic Version) from the new In the Quiet series are out now on all music platforms.
I Don't Hear Music the Way You Do.
I Feel It.
Most artists start with sound.
I start with a feeling I can't ignore.
I'm Deaf and it didn't end music. It rebuilt how I make it.
I went deaf later in life and it forced me to trust instinct over perfection, to build songs from vibration, memory, and physical sensation instead of what something is supposed to sound like.
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So I don't record the way you'd expect. I lay down each element alone, the guitar first, then the piano, then my voice, so I can feel exactly how each one moves through my chest before any of them meet. My body is the studio monitor. When something is wrong, the hair on my arms stands up before I can name it. When it's right, heat climbs from my chest and the back of my neck, and I know.
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Not because I heard it. Because my body told me the truth.
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Full production or bare, the process is the same. I don't chase the note. I don't chase the lyric. I chase the feeling underneath both.
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This isn't background music. It's built to land in your chest and stay there. Low end you feel before you recognize it. Breath woven into the rhythm. Melodies that move like touch instead of structure.
Press play. Feel everything.
WHAT CRITICS SAY
"Silence becomes an instrument, skin a musical score."
ActuaNews (France)
"Sound you feel... a rare and revelatory pop-dance statement."
Rising Artists Mag
Two Rooms, One Voice
In the Quiet
Read My Lips (Acoustic Version) opened this room with defiance. Stay Through the Storm answered it with gratitude. Stripped-back songs from my own catalogue: guitar, piano, and voice. The quiet is not the absence of production. It is the absence of armor.
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Sessions from the Velvet Boot
Cracked Bottles, Broken Hearts (Live) opens this one. Songs from my musical, Speakeasy, reimagined as live performances. Arrangement varies, sometimes just a piano, sometimes a fuller band.
Where It Comes From: Through My Skin
Before the quiet, there was the full spectrum. My debut album, out now, the full-production home these acoustic versions come from.​
Headphones in.
Lights low.
Start at track one.
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If you only listen to a few:
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Talk With Your Hands — when words stop working
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Through My Skin — when touch says more than sound
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Before I Go — when it’s already over, but you haven’t left yet
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Don’t shuffle.
This is a story.
Go deeper into the songs...
what they mean, where they came from, and what they cost me.
The Music Is One Room in a Larger House
I also write literary horror, essays, a memoir, and a musical.
Different forms, same preoccupation: stories you feel in your body.
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Silent Horrors · Messy Reinvention · Speakeasy · Notes From A Sissy
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