Instruments complicate stillness.

As a compulsion, I quietly tap my hands and feet. I have for 14 years.
I am thankful for those who have tapped alongside me.
Those who have expressed joy, fury, love, disillusion, and hope.
I would like share those relationships with you.
Listen below.

This is Ian Coles Ketcham.

He asked me to drum.

This album, and the genius of Ian, expresses a reflective state.
How did we get to a place where a man like President Trump could be elected? Where do we go from here? How do we empathize with an executive office which demonstrates none?

Check out more of Ian's work, here.

Trump sucks.

Below is Ivan.

A group founded on mutual feelings of heartbreak and malaise.

Like an injured animal, we shouted in the void. To gain strength. To overcome.

Ivan's cover album.
Black Sun.

I played drums, ukulele, and banjo.

When Ivan grew from it's original cast of musicians, it experimented with the idea of cover songs.
What kind of story could we tell by curating a group of songs?
After all, those songs previously had emotions and experiences contingent to their original albums.
We decided to take that baggage as an opportunity.
Black Sun is a museum of love and angst.
I am privileged to have joined Ivan in the midst of the turmoil.

Ivan's acoustic.
Jennings.

I played banjo.

Jennings was a necessity.
It exorcised the ill-feelings of one of us, and strangely, us all.
Listen.
You too, may find solace in between its melody and melancholy.

Ivan's last album.
Silas Wept.

I played drums.

This work is a concept.
The elder farmer Silas awakes to an alarming realization. All of his fields are destroyed by the flames wrought from the impact of the Moon unto the Earth.
Everything is gone.
How does he go forth when there is nothing left?