Makemorelovemusic

06/09/2025

06/08/2025

I recently had a “wealthy” individual say that you could catch my next show in the nearest parking lot. What a life that must be. To have lots of money but still need cut people down to match the fear and doubt in your own heart.

Yes, I’ve played parking lots to make ends meet. Yes, I’ve barely walked away with $10 from busking in the sun for 3 hours while it’s 98 degrees out NUMEROUS TIMES. Yes, I’ve worked as a power washer cleaning construction equipment for an 8 hour day and then sacked groceries until midnight with only an hour break in between for years. Yes, I’ve been to business school and initially set out to be an accountant.

Did I want to do any of these things? Nope. Am I going to spend another second living a life that I don’t want? Absolutely not.

Playing “on the street” taught me a valuable lesson in that I do not need a crowds validation to play the best show ever. In fact, if you see me with my eyes closed or rolled into the back of my head, know that I’m back on the sidewalk or “parking lot” all by myself. That’s where I go super saiyan. That’s where I feel bullet proof. In the end, I play for myself and all of creation, not the crowd. I feel like that’s missing from a lot of musicianship today. People act like they need to be validated on stage before they provide the medicine to the people. That’s lame.

I don’t find myself needing to play out in “parking lots” anymore since my clientele has grown a lot since those days. I’m able to live comfortably in my home and pay for life expenses with my art. I get hired to play gigs all across the country now. I’m blessed. So yeah lol I did come from playing in “parking lots”. I’ve been spat at from people in their cars passing by due to people thinking I’m a “fake violinist”. I’ve been called a “beggar”, “pan handler”, “window washer”, and all other sorts of dumb s**t. When it comes down to it, they would never have the heart to go to such lengths to make their dreams come true.

Know your worth and walk tall. Snakes hate that. ✊🏾🎻

Photo taken in Medicine Park, OK 2018.

📸: Steven Booker Photography

05/27/2025

The Raw Truth About Touring and Mental Health

Touring breaks people in ways that most don’t talk about—and the industry rarely admits.

At its core, touring is chronic displacement. You’re always somewhere else. No routine, no grounding, no permanence. Your nervous system never lands. You live in fight-or-flight: travel delays, high-pressure shows, interpersonal tension, constant overstimulation. There’s no decompression. No off switch.

And emotionally? Touring swings between extremes. One night it’s 15,000 people screaming. The next, it’s a silent hotel room. You go from deep connection to total isolation, over and over again. That kind of cycle burns out even the most resilient people.

But the culture of touring rewards stoicism and punishes vulnerability. You’re expected to power through. Joke about it. Drink through it. Avoid it. And the deeper you go, the harder it becomes to admit you’re unraveling—because your whole identity is tied to the road. Your worth becomes about being needed, useful, reliable. So when your body screams “I can’t,” your mind says “you have to.”

There’s no roadmap for recovery. No built-in support. No decompression protocol. And when you finally make it home, you don’t feel home. You feel disoriented. Numb. Out of place. No one around you quite understands what you’ve just been through—and honestly, you don’t either.

The truth is, touring can be beautiful. But it can also dismantle you.
And pretending it doesn’t is why so many are suffering in silence.

Admitting the toll doesn’t make you weak—it makes you honest.
And that honesty is where real change begins.

04/25/2025

04/23/2025