what grief sounds like at 2am

The best songs I've ever written came out of moments I wasn't planning to write anything.

That's not a humble brag. It's the truth about how music works when you've spent years standing in rooms where people are saying goodbye to someone they love.

Funeral service puts something in your chest that doesn't come out on command. It waits. It picks its moment. And when it finally moves, it doesn't care if you're ready.

I think grief works the same way.

You don't sit down and decide to grieve. You're folding laundry and the way a shirt smells stops you. You're in the produce aisle and a song starts playing that you haven't heard since the last time they were in the car with you. You're lying in bed at 2 AM and the thing you've been carrying finally lands.

Music isn't an escape from that. Music is a witness to it.

When you're alone and it's late and you turn on a song that knows what you're going through without you having to explain it, what's happening is somebody got there first and left you a map.

That's what I've been trying to do with every song I write. Leave maps for the moments when people don't have words.

"Just Me, Just You" came out last week. It's a song about the people who stay in the room with you when everyone else has advice but no presence. Stream it everywhere music lives.

Listen to Just Me, Just You

The full catalog, plus things that didn't fit anywhere else, is on my Stan store.

P.S. If a song ever met you at 2 AM and saved your night, hit reply and tell me what it was. I'm keeping a list. Not for marketing. For the next person who needs it.