one night while on the brink of sleep, small voices began to creep into my head... whispers really. nothing definable was ever spoken, but the voices began to create this discernable pattern of noise that could only be called music. since that time, i have tried to recreate the patterns of sound i hear occasionally in that weird interim between the consious and the subconsious, with varying degress of success. i've found, however, that when i play the tunes that run through my head along with some of those textural soundscapes that haunt me on occasion, there is a balance that is acheived. this balance is the scope of my work. it's heartfelt, sometimes innocent... sometimes angry... sometimes out of control. but it is me. and i find that most of the time it is easier for me to to be expressive with music rather than words.