For as long as I can remember, I always loved music. Instrumental. Vocal. It all resounded so deeply within me. Growing up, I listened to a lot of music. I’d sit in my room, pop in a cassette into my stereo, and then record myself singing onto a cassette player. I’d play that cassette over and over again critiquing myself. I think my mother was concerned about my music choices as I listened to a lot of George Michael, Janet Jackson, and Michael Jackson. I distinctly remember that she had a book titled something like, The Devil’s Music. I knew she was reading it because of me, and frankly at that time, it made me chuckle.
Life in the Van 