The goodbye I never expected

Time stand still

Aging and the music

Motley doesn't disappoint

Ai is not music

As America celebrates 250 years, I have found myself reflecting on more than just our nation’s history. I’ve been reflecting on my own. Today has been quiet. It’s just me, the sounds of Annie the pug snorting away without a care in the world, and the occasional groans from my old beagle, Buster, as he settles into another nap. It’s peaceful, but it’s also given me a lot of time to think. Holidays have a funny way of bringing back memories. When I was in my twenties, the Fourt

Lately I have found myself thinking a lot about something that really hit me after watching the video of YUNGBLUD breaking down and reading the statement he put out afterwards. It made me stop and think. Not just about him as an artist, but about what we have become as a music culture online. Because the reaction to it said just as much as the moment itself. Instead of empathy, there was laughter. Instead of understanding, there was judgment. And it honestly made me realize h

The moon

Some days memories don’t just visit me, they flood in like they’ve been waiting just beneath the surface. A song in a grocery store. A smell in a hallway. A random object sitting in my house that suddenly transports me somewhere else entirely. Before I know it, I’m no longer standing in the present. I’m everywhere I’ve ever been. I find myself thinking about the people who are no longer here. Not just remembering them, but missing them in a way that feels physical, like somet

It started with one bill. Just one. Nothing dramatic on paper. Nothing that should have changed everything. But something about it hit differently than it should have. And it sent me into a spiral. A quiet one at first. Then heavier. Then familiar. That sinking feeling. The shutdown. The sense of everything piling up at once until I couldn’t hold it all in anymore. Before I knew it, I was back in a place I know too well. Depression. Isolation. Loud music. Silence from the wor

There are concerts, and then there are moments in time that become part of who you are. The sold-out Triumph and April Wine show at the Michigan Lottery Amphitheatre at Freedom Hill was one of those moments. The day was perfect for a road trip and a concert. The kind of Michigan day that reminds you why summer concert season is sacred. As we pulled into the parking lot, I couldn’t help but smile. Everywhere I looked were waves of gray hair. Gen X had arrived, with a light dus

I know I have been pretty absent lately when it comes to blogging, music posts, podcasts, bracelets, and honestly just life in general. The past month has been rough in ways I didn’t expect. Most of my energy has gone into helping my son through some really intense health anxiety. First it was high heart rates, then low heart rates, and suddenly we were spending days going back and forth to hospitals, doctors, tests, and trying to find reassurance anywhere we could. Watching

I keep coming back to this topic lately, probably more than once, and honestly I think it’s because of how much I love live music and how frustrating it is watching what touring has turned into in 2026. The more I read about bands canceling tours, downsizing, or struggling to even get on the road, the more it just sits with me. Not because people don’t care about music anymore, but because the system around live music has gotten so difficult that even the passion behind it is

Yungblud-Heaven looked like this....

Troutzillafest is one of those nights that doesn’t just end when the last note is played. It lingers. In your head, in your body, in the quiet after the chaos. It’s the reminder of why this thing exists in the first place, even when it’s hard, even when it’s exhausting, even when it feels like too much for just two people to carry. You have to understand, Troutzillafest isn’t run by a big team. It’s just me and Damien. That’s it. He’s usually the one physically handling setup

I’m going to keep saying this, and I mean it. I will be screaming this until my last breath, or until I get dementia and forget, lol. Coming from someone who has been around this long enough to actually see it, not just talk about it, a lot of people who say they support musicians don’t. And yeah, that might sound harsh, but it is the truth. I’ve watched the struggle up close. I’ve seen the stress, the burnout, the disappointment when things don’t move the way they should. I’

I wake up every day wondering what version of the day I’m going to get. Some days feel manageable before I even open my eyes, and others feel heavy from the moment I become aware of them. That uncertainty has become part of my routine, something I carry before my feet even hit the floor. Lately, I’ve been questioning my purpose in a very real, personal way. I don’t always recognize the person I see in the mirror anymore, and that’s hard to admit. I see time. I see changes I d

Because the moment Mick hit the stage, none of that mattered anymore.

I sit here quietly, watching Buster curled up in his favorite spot, breathing slow and steady, completely at peace. There’s something about moments like this that make time feel louder than anything else in the room. You don’t hear it ticking, but you feel it deep in your chest, in the memories that suddenly come rushing back, in the realization that the years didn’t ask for permission before passing by. Fourteen years. It feels like both a lifetime and no time at all. Time i

If your support only shows up when it is convenient, you are not a supporter, you are part of the problem killing independent music. Let’s get something straight from the start. I am not speaking from the outside looking in. I have been in independent music for almost two decades. I have worked with bands, booked shows, promoted concerts, and stood in rooms built on pure passion, not labels, not money, not industry backing. I was a DIY promoter. That means I paid for shows ou