A short one most days — behind the songs, around Sarasota, and along for the ride.
November 2, 2026
This is the first week the sun goes down before dinner. For about six months we've gotten used to the sky doing its thing around eight, sometimes later. Now it's suddenly happening while you're still deciding what to coo…
October 31, 2026
The clocks go back tonight. At two in the morning it's suddenly one again, and for one hour everybody on earth gets a small gift they didn't ask for.
October 29, 2026
Halloween in Florida is a costume problem. Up north the whole design challenge is how to make your kid's outfit fit over a winter coat. Down here, the challenge is not letting the same kid melt.
October 27, 2026
If you've spent any time on Siesta Key you know Midnight Pass Road. It runs the length of the Key, past the little shops and the beach access signs, and it has a way of feeling like the end of something even in broad day…
October 25, 2026
Sometime between the middle and the end of October, the weather here changes its mind. You wake up and the air coming through the screen has an edge on it. Not cold. Just not wet. The humidity packs up overnight and leav…
October 23, 2026
Anyone who has closed a bar down knows the last-call feeling. The lights come up half a notch, somebody starts stacking chairs, and everyone in the room has to decide whether tonight is over or not.
October 21, 2026
Most of us have a sentence we say a hundred times a week. "I'm good." "Doing fine." "Can't complain." It's polite, it's quick, and a lot of the time it isn't strictly true.
October 19, 2026
Every Monday there's a moment in the truck where the weekend is already behind me and I haven't quite let it go. Windows down, salt still stuck in my dashboard clothes, a little sand somewhere it shouldn't be. That's whe…
October 17, 2026
Up north, people move indoors in October. Down here we move out.
October 15, 2026
Today is a holiday down here that isn't on any calendar. Stone crab season opens.
October 13, 2026
The first out-of-state plates are showing up in the grocery store lot. That means it's time to talk about "Winter Traffic," which I once described here as half of a two-song truce with tourist season.
October 11, 2026
Somebody asked me why every one of my songs comes out on a Friday, as if I'd picked it for luck. It's less romantic than that, and I think it's more interesting.
October 9, 2026
Ask most people to name the American coasts and they'll give you two. "Third Coast Tonight" is my small, loud complaint about that.
October 7, 2026
When the weather breaks in October, the Legacy Trail fills back up. It's one of my favorite things about this place.
October 5, 2026
My phone has a folder that nobody else will ever hear, and it's the most important thing on it.
October 3, 2026
Fall is the best fishing of the year down here. That's why this is the week to talk about "Two-Foot Tide."
October 1, 2026
October is when the year finally gives in down here, which makes it a good month to talk about a song most people haven't found.
September 29, 2026
There's a whole category of Sarasota afternoon that consists of standing at a railing over some piece of water, doing nothing, waiting to see whether a manatee comes by.
September 27, 2026
Something nobody warns you about: the day a song comes out, it stops being yours.
September 25, 2026
We're deep into the stretch of the year where everybody down here checks the same map too many times a day, so this seems like the moment to talk about "Hurricane Watch."
September 23, 2026
People ask where songs come from and I've written about that already. Nobody ever asks about the second part, which is where the work actually lives.
September 21, 2026
Here's a thing about Siesta Key that sounds like a tourism brochure lie until you stand on it: the sand doesn't get hot.
September 19, 2026
It's out. "Late Night Confessions" went up yesterday, everywhere you listen.
September 17, 2026
Football's back, which around here means somebody is hosting, and somebody has to figure out what's playing before kickoff and during the long stretches when nobody's really watching.
September 15, 2026
A couple of weeks ago I mentioned there were seventeen finished songs sitting in a drawer, waiting their turn. A few of you wrote to ask which one was next, which I did not expect and enjoyed enormously.
September 13, 2026
Every songwriter I know has the same quiet experience eventually: the song that connects is not the one you'd have picked.
September 11, 2026
There's a week in September where you can feel Sarasota let its shoulders down.
September 9, 2026
Some songs I build. This one I mostly transcribed.
September 7, 2026
A few weeks ago I mentioned I'd started singing lessons, which felt like an odd thing to admit in public for somebody who already has songs out. Here's the follow-up nobody asked for.
September 5, 2026
Something on this site that almost nobody has found: there are chord charts for nearly the whole catalog, and they're free.
September 3, 2026
September in Florida is the month the brochures skip.
September 1, 2026
There are two new songs up, and they're both about the same thing: being the worst person on the floor and doing it anyway.
August 30, 2026
Labor Day weekend. Everywhere north of here, this is the end: last cookout, pool cover goes on, school clothes laid out. Summer gets a funeral and everybody brings potato salad.
August 28, 2026
Confession: while the summer album was making its way into the world, I kept writing. There are seventeen finished songs sitting in a drawer right now, done and mixed and titled, waiting their turn.
August 26, 2026
Somewhere right now — three in the morning, lunch rush, doesn't matter — there is a radio station playing beach country, and it has never once gone off the air since the day it lit up in early August.
August 24, 2026
Every week I look at the numbers, and every week the same little song raises its hand from the back of the room.
August 22, 2026
This month I did something I've been circling for a year: I found a voice teacher and paid for ten lessons before I could talk myself out of it.
August 20, 2026
For one Sunday this month, if you drove past the outlet mall on I-75, my name was forty feet wide over the interstate.
August 18, 2026
Down here "football weather" is a lie we tell together. The rest of the country gets crisp air and flannel. We get ninety degrees, a heat index that reads like a typo, and a stadium full of people pretending their sweet …
August 16, 2026
The summer record is out and finished, and the honest answer to "what now" is that I've already started the next one.
August 14, 2026
There's a second thing running alongside all this and it's time I explained it properly instead of letting people find it by accident.
August 12, 2026
"Gone Coastal" names three real places in a row, and people who don't live here assume I invented them to sound local. They're all real, they're all within about ten minutes of each other, and the song is more or less a …
August 10, 2026
I spent an evening this week actually reading my own numbers instead of glancing at the top one, and it rearranged how I think about the catalogue.
August 8, 2026
There's a batch of new videos up and they look nothing like the old ones. I want to explain what they are and why I made them, because it's a real change.
August 7, 2026
It's out. **You Can't Frame a Summer**, ten songs, everywhere you listen as of this morning.
August 6, 2026
This week the monthly listener count crossed six thousand.
August 5, 2026
"Rhode Island Timing" is about the way some people arrive exactly when they're supposed to, from exactly where you weren't looking.
August 4, 2026
If you look at my album covers, my videos, this whole website — it's all sunset. Orange sky, gold water, that last warm hour. People have asked if I ever get tired of it.
August 3, 2026
Big one today: the album is real. It's called **You Can't Frame a Summer**, ten songs, and it lands everywhere **August 7** — this Friday.
August 2, 2026
"Every Sweet Thing" is a list song, which is a dangerous thing to attempt — list songs go corny fast if the list isn't true.
August 1, 2026
Every local complains about season. The traffic on 41, the hour wait for a grouper sandwich, the parking at the beach access gone by nine a.m.
July 31, 2026
Every town has an hour when it shows off. Sarasota's is right after nine.
July 30, 2026
People ask where the songs come from, and the honest answer is: mostly from paying attention.
July 29, 2026
Just put a new lyric video up on the channel — "Calling In Sick."
July 28, 2026
At the south end of Siesta Key there's a spot called Point of Rocks, where the sand quits being famous and the shoreline turns to coral ledges and tide pools.
July 27, 2026
"Boom Pop Sizzle" is the biggest song I've put out so far, and it's basically about holding somebody's hand while the sky explodes.
July 26, 2026
If you've never been on Siesta Key beach an hour before sunset on a Sunday, here's what happens: people just start showing up with drums.
July 25, 2026
"Receipts" started with an actual glovebox.
July 24, 2026
I figured it was time this website had a spot where I could just talk.
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