J.R. Journal No.2

I grew up swaddled by sound.

As the youngest of three kids raised by two smart, music loving parents, I was lucky. I was exposed to a lot of music, and my ears were always open.

Growing up my siblings and I were encouraged to sing in choirs, play instruments, and dance freely as my dad’s band collected block party noise complaints.

As I grew, I watched my siblings try new things, and in fashion, move on to the next. I witnessed them both become victims to the forced piano lesson. By the time it came around to my turn, my parents had had enough. “James, if you want to play, just let us know.” I opted out.

Years later, during a family movie night, my parents rented a film called Shine, an Australian biographical psycho-drama based on the life of pianist David Helfgott. As an impressionable teen, it was heavy. It was also the most fascinating story I had ever heard. My curiosity in music, specifically piano, skyrocketed.

Hidden in the basement, I’d play late into the evening on the family piano - a digital Yamaha Clavinova. I didn’t know what I was playing, and I didn’t care. I played what I liked, and I liked what I played.

I became a sponge. I enrolled in music theory courses, watched videos, sought out help from anyone who was willing to share. As I grew older, I’d frequent collegiate music halls and local churches to sneak in an after hours session on their grand pianos. It was pure joy. No one to tell me what to do, or how to play. Just exploration, drawing from a deep well of personal experience and musical memories. With no formal technical training and an abysmal ability to sight read, my playing was an extension of me. Honest, raw, and unrefined.

I’d play for hours on end. I learned chords and their extensions. I’d spend days picking through sheet music to learn just enough of a song so I could capture the idea and make it my own. Through years of this unguided exploration, and an awful piano technique to match, I finally found my sound.

And then, well, life happened. And for more than a decade, piano sat on the back-burner. Not forgotten, stirred occasionally, and set aside to steep. Professional endeavors came and went. Personal travels opened my eyes to the world. From farm lands to coastal communities to city centers, I’ve had too many moves to count.

I married an incredible woman. We became parents. We moved close to family. We saved. We bought our first home. And in September of 2022, after years of dreaming, we bought an upright piano.

The past few years have been spent reconnecting with music, reconnecting with my lost sound. My nights out have turned to nights in, as we watch our children grow. I play daily, and I have a new found appreciation for proper technique. I play for the love of playing, and I play to warm our home in the hopes that I can surround my family with the same musical delights that my family shared with me.

And now here we are, March 2025, nearly a week away from my 35th birthday. It’s time.

It’s time to share.

Time to share my feelings, my thoughts, and my experiences through the medium of music. It’s time to keep traditions alive and capture my memories while they are still fresh. It’s time to connect with others and celebrate ideas as they take on a life of their own.

It is time to share the musings of a man obsessed.

For me, for you, for my girls.

Onward,

- J.R.