Story
I grew up in Meadowbank, Auckland, with my Mum and my two sisters. Close family. Dirtbikes, camping trips, family gatherings, scooters down quiet streets.
Music was always in the mix. So was my Dad, though neither of them stuck around in any predictable way.
When Dad was home it was good. I helped him build his Chevy as a kid, rode motorbikes with him, learned how to work with my hands. I also learned, without anyone ever saying it out loud, to hold onto those moments. I never knew how long they'd last.
The Chevy and the bikes still turn up in my songs. Not as symbols or anything. Just honest memories of something I loved that kept disappearing.
There was music all through the house. Me and my sister sang constantly. School choirs, church on Sundays, but mostly SingStar, which was basically a religion in our house. What started as everyone piling onto the couch for a game quietly became the place I found my voice. Later that moved down to the basement, writing songs and sneaking smokes out through the shed.
I was always a bit different at school. Played sport like everyone else, just never felt the fire for it the way my mates did. Where I actually came alive was design class, with a teacher who got me and gave me room to think differently. I don't look back on any of it with regret. All of it got me here.
My first CD was Jason Mraz. Learned every song front to back, in perfect pitch. From there it grew outward. The Eagles and Cat Stevens from my parents' collection, then Sticky Fingers, Home Brew, Tom Misch. Music that actually made you feel something. That's still the whole point for me.
That's why I make it. My struggles, my family, the stuff I normally keep to myself, it all comes out in the songs. I want people to feel something when they listen. Anything really. It's getting harder to come by.
There's nothing complicated about who I am. What you see is what you get, and what you hear is no different.
Some things are easier to sing than to say.