There were a few pivotal moments in my life that cemented how much I wanted to be a musician. I had been taking guitar lessons since about age 8 or 9 but I had my first taste of “success” at 11 years old, and boy was it intoxicating. I was the lead singer of my 6th grade band, The Keepers Of Peace, and somehow we were able to enter a local Battle of The Bands in Iowa City, where I was living at the time. We performed in front of a crowd of nearly 1,000 people and won second place among grown adults and professional bands. It was most likely the cuteness factor that led to our win (how do you crush the dreams of three 11-year-olds?) but it was the first time I ever felt like a “rockstar” and it made me want to chase this music dream forever.

Fast forward to my senior year of high school, where I was graduating from a public school in rural Vermont. Throughout my high school years, I’d played a lot of shows at my school auditorium and a few local events and venues, but never ventured out into the wider world. I got the opportunity to attend GRAMMY Camp, a camp run by the GRAMMY Foundation for kids interested in going into the music industry. While at GRAMMY Camp, I had the opportunity to perform at the GRAMMY Museum, meet legends like Ryan Seacrest and AJ McLean, and play at the historic El Rey Theater. Most importantly, I was around other people who all wanted a career in music, and it no longer felt like just a “fantasy”.

Finally, there was a turning point where my partner Greg and I realized we wanted to make music together. We had been dating for a year and were both singers but kept in our own lanes (I was doing the singer-songwriter thing and he was doing musical theater). On a whim we decided to host a cabaret, titled “You And Me (But Mostly Me)” at The Duplex in New York. The cabaret went over so well that we ended up doing it again in Greg’s hometown of Austin and later again for an off-Broadway series. We then happened to get a residency at the Nomo SoHo, where we had free reign to perform whatever we’d like for three hours every week. That allowed us to hone our craft and really learn how to vibe off each other. This eventually caught the eye of GRAMMY-winning producer Mr. Sonic, who signed us to his label and started producing what would turn into Fab The Duo's debut EP, Our Love Is Resistance.

Photo courtesy of Fabian Di Corcia

It marks no surprise to family, friends, teachers or even enemies that I have chosen to pursue a career in music. As a kid, an early crop of red flags emerged as pigtailed performances as Baby Spice became a weekly meal of its own, to be served as an accompaniment to the roasted rack of lamb and garlic mashed potatoes of Sunday family dinner. 

Music has always been a very important part of my life since I was a child. I am not sure whether the fact that my parents took me to a Garth Brooks concert while I was still in-utero or just a natural instinct, but from the time I was actually cognitive, there has been something about music that makes me want to move and stop paying attention to the troubles around me. Growing up, my parents were always showing me a wide variety of music from Great Big Sea, being my first concert, all the way to The Ramones and everything in between. They wanted to make sure that as I became my own person I got to experience as much of the musical spectrum as possible so I could figure out where my own taste lived.

Though I always loved music, it wasn’t until I got to high school that I had an interest in actually playing and creating music. Trevor [Bowman, bassist], and I grew up together in a little rural town called Elmira, Ontario. Being such a small town, there really wasn’t much to do to keep young people busy, especially in the entertainment space; so we were forced to get a little more creative to sustain ourselves and stay out of trouble. This is going to sound extremely fantastical, but months after I started trying to teach myself how to play the guitar, I remember Trevor boldly suggesting while we were at school that it would be super cool if we started a band. He recommended that he buy a bass guitar and learn how to play since I already had a guitar at home. That was the beginning of our long journey together. After learning a few simple cover songs, we found some other friends who played music and started the first version of Excuses Excuses (called Stained Glass Army).

For Trev and I, when we hit the stage for the first few times, it was like a part of us woke up from a deep hibernation. We were absolutely hooked on the feeling of standing in front of a crowd, sharing our passion and getting to be whatever we wanted to be for those brief moments. It was the most energizing and relieving feeling we had ever experienced, and right away we knew we had found something special within ourselves that we needed to pursue. As we kept playing and learning, these feelings only got stronger to the point where we spent countless late nights talking in wonder about how we could find a way to turn our passion into a living, expressing that neither of us could really see ourselves being happy without it even though we had only been working at it for a few short years. That was the moment we knew we not only wanted, but needed, to make music.

After that we really started investing our time and money into music, even though many of the other members of our high school band began to move on. We ended up briefly going to school in Kingston, Ontario, where we met Jason [Nicoll, drummer] through friends at Trevor’s college after we hadn’t been active in several months. When we started hanging out with Jason it was an instant click, and as we began to practice with him, that love and need for playing was instantly reinvigorated. Though we didn’t know where it would take us at this point, we played our first official show as Excuses Excuses on the university campus with our good pals in a rock band called Kasador after practicing with Jay only a handful of times. It was surreal… Not only did Trevor and I feel like we came back to life, but I like to believe that was the moment that we helped ignite the spark of passion in Jay. Sure, we already knew that we needed the music, but that was the moment that we realized how and with whom we wanted to make music. That was the moment that we truly became Excuses Excuses.

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.

Photo courtesy of Bob Holtsman

Music has always been a huge part of my life since I was a kid, thanks to my dad's incredible vinyl collection. You could hear Stevie Wonder, The Beatles, Elvis and James Brown blasting 24/7 in our household or during family cookouts. Over the years, as my siblings got older, it became 80s ghetto blasters wearing out tapes of Led Zeppelin, The Police and Prince. I had no idea how lucky of a child I was to be exposed to all of this amazing music and that my passion for it was growing.

By the time I got to grade 6, my oldest brother, Efren, was already touring in a cover band playing in small towns and bars in our city of Saskatoon (hometown of Joni Mitchell, by the way). By grade 8, I was their lighting tech at their high school dances. The band's school bus full of their giant clunky PA system and lights was parked in our driveway and our basement was their rehearsal space. I would often daydream about doing what my big bro did for a living, being a professional touring musician.

So in high school, I started my own band where I was the lead singer/bassist and began writing original songs. My bandmates and I would sneak into the basement and secretly rehearse using my brother's band's gear for months in order to audition for the big annual high school Variety Night. To our school, it was a pretty big deal - a ticketed talent show that was open to the public in our 250 capacity theatre. Despite there being intimidating senior bands, we passed our audition and got in!

The night of the big show, we were scheduled to close by performing last. As the lights dimmed and the anticipation built up, we stepped onto the stage and did our best rendition of "Free Fallin’" by Tom Petty. Girls started screaming and as we played our last note, the crowd cheered so loudly and gave us a real standing ovation. We felt like the freakin’ Beatles! I was on cloud nine and didn't want the night to end. That was the moment I knew I wanted to make music.

Fours years later, I got signed to Warner/Atlantic with my next band, Wide Mouth Mason, and we were opening for The Rolling Stones. I definitely made the right choice to pursue music because 25 years later, I'm making the best music I've ever made and having more fun than ever with my new band, The Steadies!

From a very young age, I knew I wanted to be a singer, but it wasn’t until I moved to New York City and started meeting other artists that I knew wholeheartedly that I could be a performer and make music for a career.

I grew up singing in church and school choir. As a pre-teen, I knew instinctively how to channel my emotions into song. Singing has always given me great joy and I would sing for hours. I applied to talent shows and I performed where I could without a car, but I never fully felt supported enough to believe that I could make it as a professional.

When it came time for college, I chose to study marketing because I saw the success that my grandpa had in business and I wanted the same for myself. I had no idea that music school was an option at the time. I had been sewing my own clothes and even sold some of my shirts around town to a few local boutiques so I thought that with a marketing degree, I could learn to run my own fashion business.

I quickly became burnt out from going to school while working and holding a leadership role in my sorority. For the first time in my life, I was ready to quit. I was having constant headaches and was secretly depressed. I started therapy and decided to take summer courses so I could graduate early and move to a larger city to ‘start my life’. Looking back I can see that college was something that was expected of me and not necessarily something I wanted to do.

After I graduated, I sold my car and moved to Italy for nearly a year. I struggled to support myself with babysitting jobs and teaching English. I landed in Brooklyn with just enough money to sublet a room for one month in Williamsburg. I continued to babysit, took on restaurant jobs and any other kind of work I could find to pay my bills so I could intern for the global fashion PR firm Karla Otto. Even with all the glamorous parties and clothing, I quickly realized that the fashion industry was not where I wanted to be and I felt very lost.

I started dating a guitar player and writing songs again. I found a local Craigslist ad for a backup singer in an R&B group out of Newark and I auditioned. I performed with them and another folk duo just for fun. I was of the mindset that I was automatically disqualified from becoming a professional musician because I had no official training for it. I jumped around from bartender job to art job to marketing job, but I finally started to feel like I had found my purpose.

Three years into my time in New York City, I decided to travel to the Bonnaroo Music and Arts Festival outside of Tennessee with some girlfriends. I saw LP perform on a smaller stage and I was mesmerized by their voice. It was a music festival experience that any aspiring artist could dream of. By the end of it, I was convinced that I would not attend another music festival until I was performing at it. I continued to teach myself guitar and focused on writing my own songs. At this point, all of my roommates were making music and I was warming up to the idea of performing.

The following year I met an artist named Sky. She had made $40,000 from a sync placement of one of her songs and was not even well-known as an artist. The two of us became quick friends over music and fashion and I ended up driving cross-country with her to help her move out to Los Angeles. I flew back to New York with a changed perspective. If she could make money from music, so could I…

That October I gave my first performance for Greenpoint Open Studios and I haven’t looked back since. My focus has been music.