For a solid decade, I was all in — working in NYC, living in New Jersey, gigging in Dallas and Nashville.
I played clubs, toured, and stayed busy. It was a full-time life behind the kit.
In the middle years, the work expanded:
I played the Grand Ole Opry, performed with Brenda Lee, Lorrie Morgan, Mando Saenz, and Kim Richey.
I spent time in the studio with Freedy Johnston.
I recorded sessions that made it to air with Bob Harris at the BBC.
But one thread was always missing: improvised music.
A college teacher once told me “maybe you’ll have better luck with repetitive based music” — said jazz wasn’t my lane.
I didn’t argue. I just accepted it. Quietly.
And without realizing it, I left a whole part of the music — and myself — unexplored.
Three years ago, I changed that.
I started learning improvised music for real.
No gigs lined up. No career strategy. Just curiosity and a quiet pull toward something unfinished.
I didn’t expect much to happen.
But I worked at it like it might.
Transcriptions, phrasing, brush work, ride cymbal patterns.
I practiced alone, listened deeply, and stuck with it.
And then I found the community — a warm, open scene in New Mexico and back home in Texas.
Clubs like Club Legato, Dave’s Jazz Bistro, The Outpost, The Century Room, Kaktus Brewing, Pinkies, and Scat Jazz Lounge gave me space to grow.
And I’ve had the chance to play with and for some truly generous and gifted musicians:
Alex Murzyn, Bob Fox, Carmen Bradford, Chris Hagedorn, Gannon Phillips, Hillary Smith, James Hinkle, John Rangel, Mark McKenzie, Micky Patton, Mike Garvey, Red Young, Russ Scanlon, Sean Johnson, Sharon Goodspeed Keyton, and Shelley Carrol.
What started as a quiet return became something real.
I began to gain not just skill, but confidence.
And then, something even harder to earn: identity.
Not in the industry sense — in the personal one.
I could sit down at the kit and feel like myself.
This has been one of the best musical experiences of my life.
It came late. It came without guarantees.
And it gave me back something I didn’t know I’d lost.
I’m deeply grateful for the music, the people, and the chance to return —
not to the spotlight, but to the rhythm.
I play jazz drums.
And I love it.