I remember riding along the Jersey shore in the back seat listening to Paul Simon’s Graceland, Joni Mitchell’s Chalk Mark in a Rain Storm and Talking Head’s Naked, which remain three of my favorite albums. I also remember listening to Bonnie Raitt, whom I recognized from a guest spot on Sesame Street, the show I really wanted to be on. Most things about me haven’t changed (listen to my song “U” if you need evidence). When not dressing up in my grandmother’s clothes and composing songs about princesses and rocks I spent a lot of time in the ocean or wandering around my mom’s garden gathering ingredients for flower soup. 

Then we moved to Vermont as I was entering kindergarten, the year of my epiphany. I can still conjure the moment I heard “My sister got lucky/ Married a yuppie.” As usual, I was sitting in the backseat when this jangly refrain of “Yer so bad/ Best thing I ever had” sprung me forward to demand WHO IS THIS?! Not only was yuppie the coolest word my five-year-old ears had ever heard, but also the music was the equivalent of the first glimpse of Southern California by eyes acquainted to gray New England winters. In that instant I heard my calling in the voice of Tom Petty. He was, and will always be, the absolute. 

Kindergarten came with many other highlights, such as riding the tractor at dusk as barn swallows dive-bombed my head, starring in The Little Red Hen, and learning the alphabet, all of which prepared me well for my chosen profession of driving around, performing, and writing songs. 

Then we moved to Massachusetts for a couple years before briefly living in New York City. Manhattan was a hot, humid, gray, smelly place I hated and yet have returned to and inhabited more than any other in my adult life. It’s kind of like putting black crayon over colored pencils - every time I come back here I scratch out a little more rainbow. And thanks to my first summer of living here as a kid I know where to find the bathrooms in just about any hotel, museum, and department store. 

By the time we settled in Connecticut my older sister and I were very familiar with the backseat of realtors’ cars and we were very good at making our own fun. We choreographed Paula Abdul’s Forever Your Girl and developed a series of alter egos and aliases we used while traveling. A little later we made music videos for Rage Against the Machine’s Evil Empire, a shift in musical taste that reflected the onset of puberty. I still dressed up and sang opera in the basement where I thought no one could hear me and I played the violin in the school orchestra. However Tom Petty plays guitar and after years of longing I held my first guitar on my thirteenth birthday, the start of another pivotal year. 

Seventh grade was the opposite of kindergarten. Whereas I loved every day of kindergarten - even the day I threw up on Nick’s shoe during story time, because I got to go home and watch cartoons - I hated every day of seventh grade. I begged to be sent to boarding school. When I learned a family friend was going to be stationed in Saudi Arabia I begged to be sent there too. This year marked the longest I’d ever lived in one place yet it was the place I most wanted to flee. 

Then I discovered that music offered more than just sound - it offered an escape. A way to mentally transport myself to another place when I was physically bound. So I became the music I listened to - Are You Experienced, Harvest Moon, Under the Table and Dreaming, Wildflowers, and August and Everything After. I inhabited Blue, turning to Joni Mitchell when my skin felt too thin to contain the intensity of my feelings. Music became my religion. My bedroom wall became a shrine to Beck. 

Then came a research project in Social Studies, where the assignment was to pick someone from history, write a paper, and make an illustrated life-size cutout. According to my teacher only two musicians “qualified” for the project - Jimi Hendrix and Bob Dylan. Of course I wanted Jimi because all I knew of Dylan was this god-awful cassette from MTV Unplugged that my dad sometimes played in the car until I out-whined Bob. Unfortunately this kid named Kevin got to pick before me and I was left to choose between Dylan and some political leader or whatnot. So I chose Dylan. 

To write how Dylan’s music transformed and continues to transform me would be similar to making a list of every thought, feeling, and breath I’ve ever experienced or will one day experience. I’m pretty sure Bob Dylan is the cosmic egg. I quickly became a convert, playing my violin along to Desire and singing “The Times They Are A-Changin’” at the Senior Center Holiday Concert. It went over better than “Needle and the Damage Done.” I still have the life-size cutout I made of Dylan and I don’t plan on parting with it any time soon. 

Life became a lot easier after that and my family started dividing our time between Connecticut and Vermont. I breathe deeper whenever I cross the VT state line. It uncorks my soul. My sister got her driver’s license and we blasted a friend’s mixtape on our way home from the farm stand, berry juice dripping down our sunburned chins as we giggled over “George of the Jungle,” the hunky guy who walked around the farm stand shirtless whether it was peach season or pumpkin season or Christmas tree season. We belted along to “Silver Spring” and “Peace Train” (ooh aah eeaahh ooahhh) until I nearly caused her to crash (not so difficult to do with my sister) when I had another WHO IS THIS?! moment - 

Phish. Unlike Dylan, I could tell you a lot about the impact Phish has had on my life because I could simply cut and paste my junior year research paper. While my classmates chose topics such as the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and Global Warming, I wrote Phishing for Happiness, a look into the culture and music of the greatest band of all time. I got an A+. I channeled my love and obsessive compulsion into trading tapes of live shows, memorizing set lists, and going to as many shows as my parents would tolerate. I followed them, like many, anticipating each night’s show as if it were the first. And indeed it was because each time a song is played differently than before and never to be played the same way again. Through following Phish I became aware that every moment is a unique, fleeting opportunity to experience and to create our lives. I began to see that life is happening right now so why not be present for it? Why not participate? Why not transcend it? 

With this seed of knowledge planted I began my colorful cross-country college career, starting at New York University's Steinhardt School of Education. I transferred to Wesleyan, took a leave of absence, worked, started to play my own shows, recorded a few times, and moved to California. I began practicing yoga, meditation, and Authentic Movement. At one point I decided I wanted to be a rapper and I joined a hip hop dance group. (Unfortunately DVDs of our performances exist.) After rekindling my focus and inspiration at Goddard College in Plainfield, VT, I completed my undergrad back at New York University, this time at the Gallatin School. After coming full-circle, my concentration was very appropriately entitled Circles: Creativity and Consciousness. Thus my parents were satisfied that I had a degree and I was satisfied that I had a fulfilling education and a degree that would never get me a real job.

After graduating in 2007 I was able to pour all of my energy into writing and performing music. The two years that followed brought me around the world to perform at venues ranging from a tiny spirit store nestled amid medieval ruins north of Dublin to the main stage at the renowned Telluride Bluegrass Festival, where I played to over 10,000 attendees alongside artists such as Ryan Adams, Paolo Nutini, Bruce Hornsby, and Ani DiFranco. I chronicled much of 2008’s 30,000 miles of touring through photos, videos, and written entries on my blog, MySpace, and other sites. After completing my tour at last summer’s Rocky Mountain Folks Festival I challenged myself to live in one place continuously for an entire year. So I parked my car at my mom’s house and went back to New York City one more time. For the past several months I’ve been living in the Lower East Side, balancing my outward journey with an inward one, and writing songs that have become Miles From Nowhere. 'm thrilled to be back on the road this fall - see you soon.