FEEL IT THROUGH MY SKIN
This isn’t background music.
Press play.
Don’t skip.
Let it take you somewhere.
Headphones in.
Lights low.
Start at track one.
If you only listen to a few:
-
Talk With Your Hands — when words stop working
-
Through My Skin — when touch says more than sound
-
Before I Go — when it’s already over, but you haven’t left yet
Don’t shuffle.
This is a story.
About the Music
I don’t just make music. I make sensation.
I make music the way I live ...
through touch, through breath, through skin.
I don’t hear music the way most people do.
I feel it.
In my chest.
In the space between two people.
In the moment right before something changes.
As a late-deafened artist, sound didn’t disappear.
It transformed.
Vibration.
Memory.
Instinct.
Every lyric, every beat, every pause is built to be felt...
not just heard.
Through My Skin isn’t background music.
This is a full-body experience.
🎧 Start here:
-
Talk With Your Hands — when words stop working
-
Through My Skin — when touch says more than sound ever could
-
Before I Go — when it’s already over, but you haven’t left yet
Press play.
Feel everything.
Through My Skin's Story
This album moves like a night you don’t forget.
It begins with tension.
A glance that lingers too long.
Then it pulls you closer.
Hands.
Heat.
Rhythm.
Connection that doesn’t need language.
And then it breaks.
The warmth cools.
The silence stretches.
And then... release.
Not quiet.
Not gentle.
Movement.
Sweat.
Letting go.
Your body remembers.
The good.
The loss.
The feeling of being fully alive.
One night. Every feeling.
All the way through your skin.
🎧 Listen from the beginning. Don’t skip.
Behind the Music
I don’t just make music... I build it from sensation.
Most artists start with sound. I don’t.
I start with a feeling I can’t ignore.
A moment that sits in my body...
the way tension builds between two people,
the weight of a silence that says everything,
the exact second something shifts and you know it won’t go back.
I chase that.
Not the note.
Not the lyric.
The feeling underneath it.
Being late-deafened didn’t end music for me. It stripped it down.
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.
So when I’m writing, I’m not asking:
“Does this sound right?”
I’m asking:
“Does this hit where it’s supposed to?”
Every track on Through My Skin is built that way.
Layer by layer.
Pulse by pulse.
Something you don’t just listen to... something that lands in your chest and stays there.
Low-end you feel before you recognize it.
Breath woven into the rhythm.
Melodies that move like touch instead of structure.
This is music for:
Dancing too close.
Kissing too slow.
Remembering something you thought you’d moved on from.
It’s not just about listening.
It’s about feeling every second.
Go deeper into the songs...
what they mean, where they came from, and what they cost me.
