Introduction:
Every artist has a moment—a flash of clarity—when passion becomes purpose. For one drummer, that defining moment arrived unexpectedly during his senior year of high school, while he was serving time in military school for what he calls a “misspent youth.” At the prom, leaning against the edge of the stage and watching his friend command the drums, something struck him with the force of a “20-pound sledge.” In that instant, he knew: That was what he wanted to do. That was the seat he was meant to occupy.
Athletics hadn’t worked out, charm only went so far, but music—music had a gravitational pull. That realization launched him onto a path that eventually led him to Myrtle Beach, to the chaotic, sweaty, electrifying atmosphere of The Bowery. It was a carnival of sound, salt air, rowdy crowds, and unforgettable nights. In that wild, gritty environment, he learned the thrill of performing—and, unknowingly, some hard lessons that would shape the rest of his career.
As his journey continued, he discovered that talent alone was never enough. The business side of music demanded discipline, curiosity, and humility—qualities he admits he didn’t foster early on. He openly shares that neglecting the financial and managerial aspects of his career cost him greatly. His advice to emerging artists is simple but powerful: If you’re a creative brain, find someone with a business brain. Ask questions. Understand publishing, royalties, and partnerships. Don’t let pride become a liability.
His story also carries deeper layers—reflections on personal battles that nearly cost him everything, including his gift. Years of excess and self-destructive habits culminated in a near-fatal wake-up call. But in the darkness, he found clarity, recovery, and eventually, redemption. Now more than a decade sober, he says he is a better player, clearer thinker, and stronger person. The gift he once abused was returned to him only after he chose to value it again.
Yet for every low point, there were extraordinary highs. One of his most cherished memories is touring with the Doobie Brothers—heroes from his youth. 
He recalls riding his bike into a festival crowd, anonymously listening as they played under the summer sun, and realizing he would soon share the stage with them as a peer. It was a surreal, full-circle moment that reminded him why he loved the dream long before he ever lived it.
Today, he uses those experiences—the triumphs, the mistakes, and the hard-won lessons—to guide young musicians. Through teaching and storytelling, he hopes to offer what he once needed: direction, realism, and encouragement.
If the 60-year-old version of himself could speak to the 18-year-old dreamer, he says the message would be simple: “Listen to your gut—and act on it. It’s usually right.”