Not many people can claim they traded a world-class opportunity for getting punched in the face.

I can.

That punch might've completely shredded my pride, but I came out ahead. Big time. And I'll get to that in a minute or two.

First things first, the road to that Mike Tyson moment needs a little airtime.

When I finished my masters degree in music, I was offered a spot in a very selective doctoral program in classical guitar. It was a number one music school. Best in the country. Had I enrolled and graduated from that university, I might've guaranteed myself a job in academia, teaching music. I'd have students auditioning to work with me!

As it stands, I turned down this opportunity. Something in me said no. I didn't know what that voice was. A hunch, an intuition, something. Of course, I also suffered a barrage of other, less helpful voices in my head shouting expletive-laden variations of, "You're being a fool! Don't walk away from this!"

Yet, I walked away. I knew I wanted a break from music. A really, really long break.

Completely on a whim, I packed my forest-green Saturn sedan with the essentials and moved to Austin, TX. When I arrived, I got a room in a house with a writer, a couple of slackers, and a guy who played in an especially god-awful emo band. All five of us were absolute slobs. I had a tiny room to myself which came with a twin sized bed. I had no idea why my bed was so scratchy and uncomfortable until later when I came to understand that cheaper sheets have really low thread counts.

Things were not great at that house. My roommates there were not happy people. Shouting, disagreeing. Lots of alcohol and drug use. The dishes piled up regularly. The trash looked like columns, and the columns were everywhere. One of my roommates, the guy who played in that terrible emo-band, punched me in the face over something stupid. It probably had to do with the cleanliness of the house. I watched my glasses shatter as they hit and then shimmied across the floor.

Yup, I gave up on a badass doctorate opportunity to get punched in the face.

I moved out immediately. I crashed on a friends couch in East Austin for a month. I scrounged up a gig literally cutting down trees and digging ditches.

I ate what I could afford. Ramen noodles. Spaghetti. A burger here and there if I had the money. Making matters worse, my beautiful forest-green sedan died. A friend took pity on me and gave me a bike. I was grateful at first. Later on, the handlebar on the bike gave out in the middle of a busy intersection. I smacked the pavement and skidded a foot. I wasn't terribly hurt. Just humbled. Very humbled.

I then had a string of dead-end jobs that ranged from totally innocuous to vaguely threatening. I waited tables. I shuffled and organized paper records at a nonprofit. I stuffed envelopes for a real estate entrepreneur. I checked bags for knives at the local homeless shelter in downtown Austin.

When I look back, more than anything else I remember the confusion I felt... That feeling of uncertainty that I didn't know what I wanted to do with my life.

When the inspiration for my direction in life finally came to me, I remembered the relief. I felt so at ease and peaceful. All the light around me turned golden and luminescent. It felt like a dream, where it was weirdly magical. I felt the first legit feeling of hope in two years.

Here's it was, right in front of me the whole time: I decided that I was going to teach guitar in my own private studio, hell or high water.

With whatever money I had, I found a small studio space in South Austin, set my guitars up, and built my solo teaching practice from scratch. I earned more money. I bettered my life. With help from unlikely friends and colleagues, I gradually pulled myself up from that terrible confusion I had sunk into.

I think about those first two years in Austin with a mixture of amusement and embarrassment. Not mad blushes, mind you, but blushes nonetheless. I don't know that I could have done any better with the information I had. Clearly, I needed to go through it. Teaching undeniably made my life better. I got stronger as a human being, wiser (maybe!), more strategic, centered, and more inspired. I developed a cleverness that I still depend upon, wits that I need on occasion, and fast decision-making skills.

Overall, teaching gave me much more than I ever expected, or bargained for. Clearly, I did the right thing when I followed up on that dreamy experience.

In looking back at close to twenty years of teaching private guitar lessons, I feel compelled to share the most surprising things I’ve learned from the experience. These are things I definitely did not know before I started teaching:

• Students can learn anything if their hearts are in it.

• Analogies are irresistible fun. 80% of the time they work great.

• If there's no emotional connection between teacher and student in the beginning of each lesson, the lesson will feel rocky and weird. Reconnecting and talking after a time apart allows us to find common ground.

• Consistent and small amounts of practice each day creates a greater mastery than inconsistent, hyper-motivated sprints.

• The more I charged per hour, the better the clients. Not only that, but the pace of learning and commitment were stronger. Even better: The collaboration was 10X stronger.

• It doesn't matter if a student comes in late if I still get paid for the full hour. Hows that for a truth bomb?

• A student who keeps their agency and accepts responsibility to learn often gets way better results than a student who just listen and does, blindly. A student who figures something out on his/her own is way more motivated to learn. I dare say, more fun to work with overall.

• Collaborative learning is way more fun than authoritarian teaching.

• If I mess up, it's almost never as big a deal as I think it is. If a student messes up, it's almost never as big a deal as he or she thinks it is.

• Pretty much everything that goes wrong is probably not that big of a deal.

• 9 times out of 10, wrist pain or back pain on the part of the learner is caused by something other than playing their instrument.

• Trying to figure out how someone learns, and how I can teach a concept to many different people, forced a creativity and emotional resilience that I wouldn't have developed otherwise. Problems aren't really hard; Finding the right solution makes difficult problems disappear.

• When a student is done working with me, it's best to make it super clear that he/she owes me nothing.

• Hearing from old students, and getting an update on their life, is one of the greatest joys I've ever known.

• An easy to use and automated scheduling software is well-worth the investment.

• Watching people progress and change, right before my eyes, couldn't get more addictive.

• It's good to remind really serious students, the ones who practice hard, that it's okay to relax.

• The fun goes through-the-roof when both parties put their phones on airplane mode.

• Unless I ask a lot of questions, the core reason why someone wants to learn guitar will remain hidden. The more hidden that reason is to me, the less successful the collaboration.

• Consistently reminding students where they came from helps them remember how far they have progressed. It also keeps them from obsessing over how much they have to learn.

• Getting "good" at playing guitar is actually not that fun of an experience. Enjoying playing guitar is.

• Teaching, as a profession, is more about the teacher learning than it is about the student. There's no reason to go into education if you're not curious about yourself.

Not bad eh?

I guess all it took was a punch to the face.

Have you ever wondered how the most perfect music falls in your lap at just the right moment?

Kin Leonn, a UK-based ambient and electronic music producer, and his music smoothly nestled themselves into my headphones this summer. I needed it, too.

I learned of Leonn from his work on the film The Breaking Ice. The movie follows three adults in their early 20's, living in contemporary northern China. Each character forms a deeper friendship with the others, while simultaneously, all of them work through their past traumas. It's billed as a bittersweet romantic drama, and it delivers.

The Breaking Ice forced itself onto my list of movies that I will watch twice. It has a solidity to it that I appreciate from good, independent movies. Besides, all I needed was to hear just a few seconds of Kin Leonn's musical score to know that this movie would slay.

I've since come to admire Kin Leonn’s work on a much deeper level. He has a way of creating music that surprises me, pushes me, and haunts my edge every time. I believe that his music effortlessly incorporates a wide and surprising degree of contrasts.

There are several techniques he uses to create this contrast in his music. And, I might do a deep-dive on that in the future. For now, I want to go deeper on how Leonn’s deliberate use of contrast in his music influenced the process I had on Lodern, the most recent release from Wicked Cities From A Distance. I also want to talk a little shop about Eurorack synthesizers.

Boring Synth Pads

In the past, I created a lot of ambient pads and soundscapes, droning out for dozens of minutes. The trouble appears when ambient music dangerously veers towards sameness, and slaps the listener with boredom. Drones can feel a little dumb, repetitive, numbing, and perhaps overdone.

This was why I felt so relieved to hear Kin Leonn’s work. It forced me to realize how important it is to think about variety, to insert some conflict inside of a song. Nothing wrong with having a little fight in you.

Discovering Leonn’s work compelled a deeper awareness of composing music that surprises and delights. I definitely attempted that with Lodern.

Creating Variety With Just Two Notes

Lodern has two notes: A root and a major third. It started as a simple drone piece. But this focus on contrast haunted me:

How on earth do I make a 15 minute long song interesting when it's just two notes, total?

To answer this, I need to nerd out about modular synthesizers. Fans of Eurorack are gonna love this part.

Granular Synthesis via Morphagene and Nebulae

The bulk of Lodern was created from two Eurorack modules, the Make Noise Morphagene and the Qu-Bit Nebulae. Both of these modules accept recorded audio and turn it into loops. Then, they can mangle those loops in so many wonderful ways. John Lennon would have flipped his wig had he had access to these two modules!

On the Morphagene, I had a piano loop running backwards. Using control voltage, I was able to change where the sound played inside of the loop (SLIDE on the Morphagene). Further, I CV’d (short for control voltage) the size of the loop (GENE SIZE), and I also CV’d the MORPH knob on the Morphagene. This formed a dynamic loop, one that changes, a lot.

The output of the Morphagene took flight after getting patched into a Hologram Microcosm with the MIX all the way up. I fiddled a lot with the Microcosm during the recording (TIME, ACTIVITY, and REPEATS). This part sounds pretty mellow just on it’s own:

Make Noise Morphagene

On the Nebulae, using a similar piano recording but played in mono, I found a single section of the loop that I liked and froze it by turning the SIZE knob all the way down while keeping the START knob static. From there, I used my fingers to manually adjust the DENSITY, BLEND, PITCH, and OVERLAP controls.

The output of the Nebulae took on a very intense sound after I violently shoved it into a distortion pedal by DOD called the Gunslinger (Shoutout to Jerry Daniels for the pedal). This noisy loop dominates the dead center of the stereo field throughout the piece. During the mixing stage, I paired it with an EastWest Spaces reverb, a pretty slick convolution reverb, just to give it a little more breath:

Qu-Bit Nebulae

These ideas were patched through to three separate tracks on my iD44 interface, and then captured in one take… One big, long, 15 minute take.

Adding Thickening Agents

I needed something to anchor the droney loops, something I could stand on with some certainty. I plugged a triangle wave output from the Pittsburgh Modular SV-1b into the filter section of the same module. I then took the lowpass filter out to the mixer. In one take, I opened the filter to get more volume when the song needed it:

Pittsburgh Modular SV-1b

Finally, I loaded up an ensemble string patch from EastWest's Hollywood Strings 2. I voiced a simple chord and mercilessly programmed it to repeat endlessly. If you've worked with orchestral samples, you know that the "sustained" sounds make interesting drones. Why? Players gotta stop at some point! The post production audio engineers who work on these sample libraries are often tasked with looping the end and beginning of a patch to create a sustained sound:

Aquiring More Contrast and Conflict

As I mentioned before, I do love long stretches of sound. But, drones need contrast to whack the livin’ hell out of a listener. I had to find places where sound could jostle things out of the ordinary.

A very good friend of mine Eddy Hobizal, who’s music you ought to check out, graciously allowed me to borrow his Fender Rhodes. I was able to plug that bad boy straight into the Hologram Microcosm. Without too much fussing about, I could play all sorts of chords and the Microcosm would throw everything back to me in a nice, twinkling way. An exemplar contrast to the lower foundational harmony.

Finally, I added some nature sounds. Why the hell not? Ambient musicians love nature sounds. Classic. Like a duck to water. Ha!

The entire session looks like this in Ableton Live:

View fullsize

Lodern in Ableton Live 12

Lodern in it's Entirety

Overall, I tried to make the elements of Lodern subtly contradict the next. I wanted each solitary minute to sound a tiny bit different than the previous. Sometimes the keyboard sounds would drift casually into the background, or lift up in the higher registers, or tinker with different harmony. Sometimes, the stereo field would hinge from balanced to dangerously out-of-phase. Sometimes, the thickening agents would just wreak a fever pitch of intensity.

I didn’t know what direction this music could take when I first started working on it.

My August this year (2024) held a plenitude of change. For one, I bought a new car. Having AC felt incredible as I had been without for about 7 years. I could actually drive places without having to bathe in my own sweat. I kept on getting the nudge to write and I began doing it. I decided to get new photos taken for my sites. And, Autumn felt closer than ever.

And once that change started happening, it manifested itself into Lodern. I ended up composing in that in-between place where I hadn't yet changed into something new.

I knew I had to pivot from old Dave to new Dave, as it happens from time-to-time. Lodern is music of that transformation, but specifically the space in-between, that liminal space, where we haven't yet figured out what's going on. Where we haven’t really finished the metamorphosis. That space has intensity. A good friend of mine said it's like taking a Polaroid and having to wait to see the picture clearly, later.

All I gotta say now? My-oh-my, thank god it's fall in Austin. That's a polaroid I've definitely been pining for.

Lodern cover art, by Wicked Cities From A Distance

The old kicks the bucket. The new catapaults itself into being. An everlasting cycle. Rinse and repeat. Ever changing and always occuring. Life, death, restated.

The gap between death and rebirth is known as the liminal space. This space occupies a poetic place in storytelling. Imagine a limbo place where twilight, awkwardness, and risk form the lay of the land. A bardo that underscores the contrast between the old and the new. An initiation that compels a clear look at the past as well as energizing the will to jump bravely into the future.

Everyone enters the liminal space. It happens over and over again. All of us come back renewed afterwords. It's a rite of purification. Problems consumed by that inferno never return with as much power as they once had. We move on, relieved yet vaugely aware that this dance will happen many, many more times in our lives.

Lodern (coming from the old German verb “to blaze”) by Wicked Cities From A Distance, is music of that transformation.

Lodern displays an astonishing magnitude of variety, contrast, rhythm, and thickness without modifying the fundamental harmony. At moments, there dwells a deeply-embedded chaos. One sound burning itself up only to get replaced with something new. A death of the old and the sprouting of the new.

Like the liminal space, Lodern holds contrast. A narrow mono signal contrasting with a wide stereo relief. Long-held drones contrasting with a spirited loop run through a distortion pedal. A triangle wave fundamental contrasting with a pitch-shifted Fender Rhodes. Time-based storytelling that plays with the richness of timbre.

Lodern invites a listener to stir the pot. It encourages full participation, staring with a clear consciousness at the coming transformation in this world, eyes-wide-the-fuck-open.

Inspired by the relentless change in the modern era, Lodern invites you to suspend time, enter the liminal space, and exit a little wiser.

Just like everyone else, there was a part of my life where I focused on the wrong things.

When I was a lot younger, I put all my focus into “being the best guitarist, ever.” I had this ideal of what the perfect guitarist would look like. I loved the thought of being acknowledged as this total badass on guitar. I romanticized the adulation I would receive on stage. I loved thinking about the attention I would get from the opposite sex. In every possible way, I wanted to be that perfect guitarist. I measured myself against him constantly. As you might've guessed, it didn't make me happy.

My life thankfully took a different turn. Now that I look back on it, I can’t help but wonder: What would've happened if I kept this target of being the best guitarist ever? What would my life look like?

For one, I probably would have 10X the technical ability on the guitar than I do now. I’d seriously blow the guitar up every time I played it.

I would have firmed a reputation as a touring musician. I probably would have recorded in quite a few amazing recording studios. I would have spent many more lonely hours in bars.

I also imagine my LinkedIn profile might've looked cluttered with groups that I had played in. I would have a colossal social-media following. I'd probably possess many more connections within the music industry. Perhaps I would have cultivated a reputation as this immense rock/metal guitar icon. Who knows?!?

I have no regrets about the path I took. I focused on film composing, on building a good home life, and I concentrated heavily on balance in all parts of my life. I'm pleased to say that I'm remarkably happy and progressing further towards all these ends.

After all, I believe that what I focus on is what I will become known for. The good, the bad, or the meaningless. Focus on the good stuff, I'll become known for it. Focus on the bad stuff, I'll become known for it. Focus on the meaningless stuff, and I'll get remembered as meaningless (if at all).

Now, my focus remains on the things I wish to cultivate. Values like balance, creativity, presence, kindness, and security. I'm very cool with getting remembered for any one of those!

Likewise, I ruthlessly expunge anything that I don't want to become known for. I refuse to hold court with optional sadness, arbitrary anger, or voluntary bitterness. Don't get me wrong. I feel my feelings which at times challenge me, but I never create stories about them. I guess I don't want the people I love to remember me as a man who carried shitty narratives.

This also affects how I develop my career. Every time a well-meaning friend tells me I should get better at social media to make it in the film industry, I ask myself, "am I willing to become known for that?"

I don’t want to become known for putting out YouTube videos every day about film composing, no matter the promise of more exposure. Knowing me, I’ll have less energy to reach out to potential directors, let alone give them my unbroken attention. Besides, it's not guaranteed to get me more gigs.

I don't want to be known as an Instagram influencer who continually is on the phone, even during Thanksgiving dinner. I think that couldn’t get more rude. Besides, it's not guaranteed to get me more gigs.

Further, I don't want to be known for working with the wrong people because I think it will lead to success. Narcissists, takers, and opportunity exploiters... all of these people just want me to do something for them. Besides, it's not guaranteed to get me more gigs.

Simply, I won't do anything that I don’t want to become known for.

Coming back to my example earlier, had I continued to focus on being the best guitarist ever, I would no doubt have become the best guitarist ever (at least in my mind!!!).

At the same time, I might have missed all the pleasure I have creating ambient music with modular synthesizers. I might have missed the joy of creating an orchestration for a scene that works perfectly with the performance. I might have missed all the wonderful chats I have with directors who just want to know the best way to get their film's music done. I might have overlooked the joys of a clean life, of settling down in a good home, of interacting with a close-knit, like-minded community.

I focus on giving my undivided presence to those I think deserve it. I bet I'll be remembered as a guy who put down his phone when he was in conversation and gave his attention thoroughly and generously.

I focus on creating music with a cutthroat ferocity to shut out external demands. I bet someday the film and music industry will view me as a guy who cared about doing his best work.

I focus on being a good friend. I hope my friends will remember that, once I'm gone. They may not! I don't know! That's certainly the hope.

I won't budge. I'll never go back.

I only focus on what I am willing to become known for.

I’ve heard some people totally shit on goal-setting. Maybe that word sounds too sporting. Maybe others prefer not to put pressure on themselves to accomplish things. Maybe a fear lingers that they’ll fail. Maybe others just hate the SMART goal acronym and wish it would die already. Or weirdly, maybe goals “aren’t difficult enough.”

Yet, throwing out goal-setting altogether leaves room for an even tougher devil to take up space:

Ideals.

What is an ideal? To me, it’s a far off version of perfection.*

Years ago, I threw out goal-setting because I felt depressed about not achieving the goals I created. But almost immediately, ideals invaded and proliferated in me. I often thought, “if only I could be like (insert name of famous musician) then I would have it all together.” Comparisons festered, and comparisons are indeed a thief of joy.

As I languished in not living up to whatever ideal I was comparing myself to, I also felt completely depressed. True, there was a lot of progress in a lot of ways. I saw forward movement. Yet I still felt haunted by the sense that I couldn’t reach that plateau.

Ideals vs Goals

I stayed attached to ideals until I began to consider the differences between ideal and goals. What I figured out totally surprised me:

1. Ideals lend themselves well to obsession, and obsession leaves no room for allowing the energy of inspiration. Putting work into achieving well-defined goals allows me to gauge progress, feel momentum, and it primes the pump for inspiration.

2. Reaching an ideal can never happen because ideals love to change. Reaching a goal means I get the satisfaction of reaching it, and then choosing a new goal.

3. Ideals resist definition. Goals love specificity.

4. Ideals tend to grow exponentially, no matter the progress made towards them (a true rat race). Goals stay the same size as when I consciously chose them.

5. Ideals resist measurement. Goals thrive on it.

6. Ideals constantly shift and move around. Goals stay put (with a little bit of effort).

7. Reaching an ideal means nothing because I don’t ever notice reaching it. Reaching a goal means a whole lot more because I will celebrate the completion of that goal. I more clearly reach a goal than I do an ideal.

8. Ideals need a low-self worth to thrive. Goals need sustained engagement and a little love to survive.

9. Ideals seem indistinct and fuzzy. Goals love to exist in a concrete, crisp, clear, and transparent way.

10. Ideals require me to measure myself relentlessly to other people, especially if I look up to them. Goals force me to get pragmatic about growth, to get smart about how progress gets measured.

11. Ideals force me to measure progress forwards, to see exactly how far I am away from achieving them. Goals allow me the opportunity to measure progress backwards, from where I started, and focus on the gains.

12. Ideals suck focus away from my mental life due to their chatty and cluttered nature. Goals are simple, clear, and I let go of them after I reach them.

13. Ideals breed depression. Goals breed momentum and lightness.

14. Ideals punish me regardless of whether I chase them or not. Goals don’t mind getting put away for a little while, especially if I only notice the progress I make towards achieving them.

15. Ideals have only one timestamp: ASAP. Goals can easily survive an openness and freedom of time.

16. Ideals force me to concoct how to get there. Goals (without a time-stamp) allow enough room for me to use inspiration to find the strongest way to achieve them.

17. Ideals never give me a moments rest. Whatever I do, I’ll never live up to them. Goals allow me far more peace, especially if I see progress.

18. Ideals cause anxiety. Goals can create repose and happiness if done correctly and with inspiration.

19. Ideals get implanted as a result of unconscious programming. Goals are chosen consciously, and (hopefully) with immense care.

So now? I’ve thrown out all my ideals. I set goals. This time, I said, “No timestamps. I’m patient. I can still get it done even if it’s not today.” I measure the progress backwards. Much, much simpler. Lighter.

I notice more and more relief flood my body when I work. I no longer feel stressed while I work. I can also feel rested and comfortable on my days off. I can let go of work with much more ease.

And overall, I see a lot more forward movement. I feel much happier. I feel like my goals are much closer to getting accomplished, too.

And holy shit I’ve got tons of things I gotta do with this life.

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*Ideals and/or goals have nothing to do with one's values, ethics, anything else. It is simply a mental construct of the “perfect” you living the “perfect” life with the “perfect” this/that/the other thing.

Whenever anyone says that they don’t mind the heat in Austin Texas, they never say it during August.

The heat makes things feel a little... cwazy. My sycamore tree gasps for breath in a very yellow-leafed way. The lizards scoot over the pavement like mini hovercrafts. Ants hide in the relative shade of the grass. Cats never bask in the sun. Dogs don’t get walked until the day is done.

To make matters comical, the AC in my car died. I have a 7 mile radius I can drive, unless I decide to get out in the early mornings. Getting lunch? Gotta deliberate on that one. Have a date with a special someone? Might want to rent a car for that. My Mom and I have had pretty epic conversations about getting a new car. I gotta admit, I feel tempted.

To make summers shorter, I pick projects that take a little while to get done. An album, a film score, something. This time, I decided to do something a bit different, and epically satisfying on a creative level.

I decided to completely categorize all of my old voice notes, sketches, and musical ideas so I could search by mood and project. I wanted to have a plethora of melodic ideas ready to go, at a moment’s notice.

For example, on February 19th, 2020, I created an orchestral sketch entitled, “P17 - Doubling For Power” (see screenshot below). Doubling for Power is a orchestral technique taken from George Frederick McKay and his epically good Creative Orchestration.. Be sure to get the workbook for Creative Orchestration, too. It’s great for learning how to orchestra.

I wanted to categorize Doubling For Power with moods [see screenshot]. I wanted to make sure I knew it was something I could use for film soundtracks. And I also wanted to write down who it reminded me of, like composers and artists. Finally, I wanted to be able to pull this up on different devices to audition the idea.

And here comes the drama: Whereas before I had no idea this sketch even existed, now if a director came to me and asked for something epic, powerful, rhythmic, and dramatic, then I can search for the moods and audition this piece for the director immediately.

Not all the sketches I had were orchestral ones. Many involved synthesizers. More than 800 of them of them are me singing into my voice notes app and saving them. Sometimes, this happened in the middle of the night. I’ve found these to be great starting points for new films.

When I started on June 30th, I had just around 2,100 or so sketches to catalog. And it was a huge mess. I looked at the sheer amount of them and got a headache thinking about having to search them. How to find just the right idea.

That led me to the next idea: Why not create a database of sketches? Luckily, I found an incredible app called Collections. And, I totally recommend it. It has made the cataloging process so much easier.

It’s now the middle of August, and this morning I completed quite a few sketches and records. I can already think a little clearer. And boy was it ever fun to find old, crazy sketches (I found an early demo of this song, too)

For those of you who recently saw Maestro on Netflix, you got treated with tour de force performances by both Bradley Cooper as Leanard Bernstein and Carrie Mulligan as Felicia Montealegre Bernstein. In the film, Cooper actually conducted the finale to Mahler's Ressurection Symphony (No. 2), with a live orchestra. And he absolutely kills it.

Bernstein's performances of the Mahler 2nd differ wildly from other conductors (Cheers to you, Maazel). Bernstein, however, did popularize Mahler, so his interpretations gets special attention in my opinion.

If you wish to get a good-sounding dose of Bernstein doing Mahler symphonies, this recently remastered collection absolutely scratches the itch for good, loud, in-your-face classical music. Is there such a thing? Yes and it's as punk rock as a motherfucker.

If you can't get the boxed set, make sure to at least listen to the recordings remastered by Andreas K Meyer.

So pleased with The Place She Dwells and the response from the audience last night. 125 seat theater was packed. Lucky that I was able to be a part of the team for that film. Hanging with Maurice Moore is always a party.

Now? Celebrations!

Btw: Luna is always curious how unlit cigars smell. She’s not a smoker… :)

Original interview here.

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What's your business, and who are your customers?

I compose music for films, and my customers are directors of films and, of course, the audience.

Tell us about yourself

I've been a musician most of my life. I remember being very young and roaming around the Eastman theater while a youth orchestra rehearsed Mozart's Jupiter Symphony. I was thrilled with the power of it. I picked up a guitar in junior high and kept going until I had a master's in classical guitar many years later.

Most of my music career was spent writing songs, educating, and performing, of course. I began composing music for films about five years ago, just as I was turning 40. I'm a late bloomer. It seemed right, and just my speed. The best part of scoring films is the challenge of capturing a story in music and weaving that throughout the movie in a relatable way. I love creating music that pairs smoothly with the visuals, performances, and stories.

What's your biggest accomplishment as a business owner?

I'm proud of the skills I've grown from scratch. Both modular synthesis and orchestration are vital skills for me, skills that took years of study to get where I'm at now, and I'm nowhere close to where I want to be. Other than that, I'm happy the films I've worked on were screened where they were, and they received the attention they did. It gets me excited for the future!

What's one of the hardest things that comes with being a business owner?

If something seems hard and it seems like I can get away without doing it, I just won't do it. But if I want to do it, I modify my approach until the dam breaks loose and I've got the momentum to solve it. It's all about the approach.

Like, I wanted to learn all the ranges, color-tone ranges, and transpositions of each instrument in the orchestra. I couldn't do that with my old set of memorization skills (aka, repeat it mercilessly). So I started to research the best way to memorize that stuff and found a better way (Loci method). Now, those ranges are stuck in my brain.

What are the top tips you'd give to anyone looking to start, run and grow a business today?

1. Mind your stories and feel your feelings. The things you tell yourself need to be challenged and reshaped, and feelings that you feel need to be felt. Simple as that. I'm indebted to Cassie Parks for her incredible guidance here.

2. Nurture your skills. It's just fun getting better at what you're best at. I love studying orchestral scores and learning about new synthesizers!

3. Nurture your network. A life well-lived is a life full of good friends and colleagues. When someone pops into my head, I often reach out and tell them that. It feels right, no matter what profession you choose.

Fractal Magic is the fourth track off of Ambient 2022, Vol. 2.

Ambient 2022 Vol.2: One hour listening experience for work, mental engagement, and concentration. Perfect for study, cooking dinner, drawing, light vice expression, and interesting love-making.

Special thanks: Kirt Bozeman, David Hobizal.

Teleporter is the first track off of Ambient 2022, Vol. 2.

Ambient 2022 Vol.2: One hour listening experience for work, mental engagement, and concentration. Perfect for study, cooking dinner, drawing, light vice expression, and interesting love-making.

Special thanks: Kirt Bozeman, David Hobizal.

Ambient 2022 Vol.2: One hour listening experience for work, mental engagement, and concentration. Perfect for study, cooking dinner, drawing, light vice expression, and interesting love-making.

Special thanks: Kirt Bozeman, David Hobizal.

Stereotactic is the third track off of Ambient 2022, Vol. 1.

Ambient 2022 Vol.1: One hour listening experience for rest, relaxation, and rejuvenation. Perfect for reading, watering plants, small repetitive tasks that need to be finished only by you, and psychedelica.

Special thanks: Kirt Bozeman, David Hobizal.

Memories of Rain is the first track off of Ambient 2022, Vol. 1.

Ambient 2022 Vol.1: One hour listening experience for rest, relaxation, and rejuvenation. Perfect for reading, watering plants, small repetitive tasks that need to be finished only by you, and psychedelica.

Special thanks: Kirt Bozeman, David Hobizal.

Ambient 2022 Vol.1: One hour listening experience for rest, relaxation, and rejuvenation. Perfect for reading, watering plants, small repetitive tasks that need to be finished only by you, and psychedelica.

Special thanks: Kirt Bozeman, David Hobizal.