I had played piano for many years, starting at the age of 5. My piano teacher was lovely, and I liked the music a lot. However, there was a connection missing that I couldn't quite put my finger on.

Enter Travis Barker from Blink-182. I had just started junior high school at St. Andrews in North York. Blink-182's posters were everywhere, and soon their records were all I could listen to. “What's My Age Again” and “All The Small Things” were my anthems and Travis Barker my guru.

Up until that point, I had been playing French horn in the junior high school band. Not to knock on that instrument, as it's very difficult and its lush tones add a silkiness to the band's sonic aesthetic. However, I wasn't quite convinced that I was sitting on the right chair. Instead I would stare at the drum throne to my left, and with envy, look at the drummers and wonder and dream about what my life would be like if I was in their position.

So I grabbed some sparkling green drumsticks and a phonebook to practice on, and started my drumming journey with my teacher Goeff at Allegro Music. I was hooked and one year later I was the drummer of the school band, and the drummer of my own rock and roll band. I haven't looked back.


I come from a pretty musical family. My younger brother plays and my dad is a professional jazz musician. Some of my earliest memories of my dad were waving goodbye to him as he set off on tours and awaiting his return late at night, or hanging out in our at-home rehearsal room as he’d practice with his band. Growing up, even though he never forced any kind of music or music instruction on me, I always saw music as a life and career possibility. Although I’d fooled around on instruments around the house as a kid, I was always more enamoured with drawing and visual art, and at one point I considered pursuing that as a profession.

What firmly cemented me in music was when I discovered the social aspect of music-making. Making new friends who were equally as excited about jamming, listening to and writing music was unlike the introverted experience of drawing, and I loved the performance aspect of it - even though it terrified me for the longest time. For me, the social aspect of music is so built into the art itself. People often call music a language, but I always compare making music with someone like the language of dogs. You circle one another, sniff each other’s butts for a bit and then suddenly bolt in a race around the dog park. Or maybe you growl, or go belly up, just to see what the other will do. It’s that primal and visceral connection that cuts right through our prepared and polite social norms that makes music-making feel so rich, immediate and intimate.