I grew up immersed in the world of music without even really knowing it. In my nine years with The Louisville Leopard Percussionists starting at age 8, I had some of the most surreal experiences of my life, from meeting Ozzy Osbourne and playing a private performance for him for his television show, to playing at a TEDx Talks convention in Kansas City, to playing at the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland, and even to playing for Prince Charles when he came to Louisville. I attended percussion clinics with greats like Giovanni Hidalgo (Grammy award winning Latin jazz percussionist), Zoro (known as “The Minister of Groove”), Hannah Welton (the drummer for Prince), and Dani Markham (the percussionist for Childish Gambino). They would visit us at our Leopards practice space. I think I had a much different path than many others my age and I loved what I was doing. Music made me feel as if I had superpowers: by day I was an ordinary kid, but by night I was a rockstar (or at least in my head I was). When I was twelve years old, the great Ndugu Chancler (if there was an official hall of fame for drummers, he would be in it) changed my life. I was rehearsing for a gig with the Leopards and playing drum set on a tune called “Shrimp & Gumbo.” Ndugu (who was to play a song with us in the performance later that night) came into the room and walked right up to me. He crouched down next to the kit and explained to me how he loved the excitement I was bringing, but he thought I was playing a bit too loudly and that I had to know when to put the group first. At that moment, I was horrified because I had just been called out in front of everyone by one of the greatest drum set players ever. I heeded his advice, but I was very tentative with my playing for the rest of the night. It wasn’t until much later that his words truly sank in. His advice changed not only the way I play music, but the way I approach life. Instead of feeling the need to be “loud,” I learned the power of listening, deep listening, and how the rhythm section guides the machine, not by drowning everyone out, but by keeping everyone together. I had the power to make others feel good about themselves by controlling how we played as a group, and I realized that was a pretty good feeling. I felt more tuned in as a musician because I was listening to everyone else instead of only thinking about what I was doing. I could still play with excitement and intensity, but had a better view of the big picture. Ndugu probably had no idea of the lesson he had given me that day... or maybe he did. There is a certain serenity that can be achieved by a band who is tuned in to each other, listening to each other, playing perfectly balanced. It’s a feeling I strive to achieve any time I play, and the more I think about it, the more I realize this is true of most things in life. I will forever be grateful for the wisdom of Ndugu Chancler as he showed me a new way to have a positive impact on others and myself. Perhaps Shakespeare was right, sometimes we must be cruel to be kind. Following the many incredible experiences I have had the privilege to be a part of, this moment, the present, is also pretty big for me. I’m making decisions about how I want to spend my life, where I want to go to college, and what I want to study. I think I’ve known since age eight, that I would be a musician. Ultimately, I can’t realize any of my goals without going to a good music school and I am thankful to have been accepted to study at Belmont University as a Commercial Music major with an intended emphasis in songwriting. At school, I know I will spend lots of time in practice rooms honing my craft, learning the business of music, gigging around town (when it’s safe), writing new music, and learning new instruments. To graduate as an entrepreneur comes with a fair amount of risk - which I am willing to take. I am reminded of a sign that has hung in my room since childhood - “What would you do if you knew you could not fail?” I guess I’ll find out because I am jumping in with both feet. I know that I’m ready to take my music to the next level. I can already picture myself on stage playing my own songs and making people feel good. I know I have what it takes to make it in the music business, it’s just a matter of getting into the so-called “Room Where it Happens”, to quote Hamilton. This is a feat not easily achieved. I need to conquer my personal challenges and continue to put in the work if I want to be able to spread my music around the world… I know I can do it.

If money wasn’t an issue, I would become a professional songwriter and musician without a plan B. Sure, I would love to have cases for my drums to protect them when I travel from gig to gig. Sure, I would love to hire a graphic designer to help me visually represent my brand. Sure, I’d love to buy some new instruments to help record the music I have written - and it would be a dream to have constant access to a recording studio. But if money really wasn’t an issue, I would graduate from music school with no debt. Period. That’s it. That’s my number one. I have been playing music for almost my whole life. I spend a lot of time creating, practicing, and listening to music, but many times I have felt myself stopping short of my potential because I know I will not be able to do everything I want to do without the necessary equipment. My first real exposure to music came between first and second grade when I was introduced to the youth ensemble The Louisville Leopard Percussionists in Louisville, Kentucky. I attended their summer camp and was invited to join the group, a dedicated ensemble consisting of about 36 kids playing year-round. It was with the Leopards that I developed my connection to music, my passion, and understanding of how it can change the world. In the eight years I spent with the group, I had some of the most surreal moments of my life, from meeting and playing for Ozzy Osbourne, playing at a TEDx convention in Kansas City, playing at Forecastle, playing on viral YouTube videos, playing at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, and much more. These experiences completely changed my outlook on the music world and are still helping me become better today, as I have developed many meaningful relationships and know what it’s like to work hard and to be in the spotlight. With the Leopards, I learned to love all kinds of instruments and all kinds of music - something that has stuck with me to this day. It changed my life and set me on this journey. If money wasn’t an issue, I would live those ideas to the fullest and spread my music all over the world to all kinds of people. When I sell my first song, I will be proud to send a check to the Leopards to help create opportunities for more kids. Ultimately, I can’t realize any of these goals without going to a good music school. Thankfully, I have received some scholarship money from Belmont University for academics and music, but the balance due is still a hefty price. At school, I know I will spend lots of time in practice rooms honing my craft, learning the business of music, gigging around town (when it’s safe), writing new music, and learning new instruments. If everything goes according to plan, I will be able to support myself off of my music - but even that is somewhat unknown. To graduate as an entrepreneur comes with a fair amount of risk. This moment in life reminds me of a sign that has hung in my room since childhood - “What would you do if you knew you could not fail?” I guess I’ll find out because I am jumping in with both feet. I know that I’m ready to take my music to the next level. I can already picture myself on stage playing my own songs and making people feel good. I know I have what it takes to make it in the music business, it’s just a matter of getting into the so-called “Room Where it Happens”, to quote Hamilton. This is a feat not easily achieved. If money wasn’t an issue, I would arrive in the room prepared by my education and experiences - and I would be there with no debt. If money wasn’t an issue, I would feel safe to try and try again to make my dream be my life. Somehow, I seem to suddenly understand the comfort that comes from being an accountant and knowing you will have a steady job. It’s just not me.

Writing "Ocean" was almost like a religious experience. I was sitting at the piano one night at around 1:00 and it just came to me. All of it. It took me about 15 minutes to get the bones of the song down. I had been struggling with my feelings towards a girl who kept turning me down and was feeling as though my life wasn't going to go anywhere. Every time I listen to it, I'm brought back to that night... I'm not sure whether or not that's a good thing or a bad thing. "Ocean" is still a work in progress from the production side, but it means a lot to me and will be a part of my first album.