Album 3: ALKI

Finally ready.

Ready enough, I suppose.

Introducing my third album: ALKI

This music was created in a wonderful little house just off Alki Beach in West Seattle over the course of roughly two years.

Much like the cover photo, which I took on my way home from the bus stop one breezy December evening in 2023, it’s dark and eerie. And yet there is hope throughout.

I view this work as a reflection of a time of pain, resilience, reconnection, and growth.

I survived a breakup. I recaptured lifelong friendships. I gave love to a dog that others wouldn’t, and then I let him go – offering life with a family who would give him far more than I ever could. I spent more than 100 hours in a single year paddling in the Puget Sound, freezing my toes while taking in stunning views of Mt. Rainer, Mt. Baker, the Olympic Mountain Range, and the magnificent skyline of my favorite city.

A version of myself died in that house on Alki. It was the only way a stronger version could emerge.

I struggled to release this album for months.

The vulnerability of sharing art, especially art that points to the darker areas of my mind, still scares me.

The quality of my work still doesn’t reach the level I so desperately want to achieve.

But it’s real. It’s me. Just like the memories, big and small, that we carry through our lives, it is but a small piece of me - a sliver and a snapshot of a particular place and time that will hold tremendous weight across everything I do for the rest of my days.

The word “Alki” means “someday” in Chinook Jargon, a hybrid trade language specific to the Pacific Northwest, blending Chinookan, Nuuchahnulth, French, and English.

I chose that word for the album title at the very beginning of the process, more than a year and a half ago. I only learned its meaning a short time before moving away.

Once again the universe had offered me a gift in a form I couldn’t see, long before I ever could have known that I needed it.

I can’t think of a more fitting title for the gift that that little house near the beach gave me.

Thank you to the Kaufer family for bringing Kyra and I into the space, one they too will cherish forever.

Thank you to Jeff, whose spirit will live on in that house, in the Alki area, and across the deep roots of the West Seattle community for decades to come.

Thank you to Alki for giving me a place to cry and laugh and dream and create, a place to discover and cultivate who I really am.

And the biggest thanks of all to every one of you. When I doubt myself, as I so often do, it’s the knowledge that I have people who love me that gives me the strength to take the next step forward.

Cheers! May you all find your “someday”, someday.

Thanks for being here, and for being you. I appreciate you. 💛