The Joyful Music Rebel

I’m often described as a big, tall, friendly giant. Most people see me as joyful, welcoming, and gentle. And I am all of those things. But beneath the surface, there’s a rebellious streak that most people don’t see.

I’m not the kind of guy who yells at people or ‘sticks it to the man’ but I do quietly question what I’m told and often do things differently than others. This inner rebellion has shaped much of my journey as a musician, even though I spent most of my career in the traditional world of classical music.

For over 25 years, I’ve been a professional violist and orchestral conductor. I’ve toured the world, performed in prestigious venues, and worked with some of the greatest classical musicians alive. From the outside, it might look like I achieved a heckuva lot in my field. But for quite a long time, I questioned my place in that world.

Even during my student days, I constantly challenged my teachers at music schools, often testing their patience. It wasn’t just about them. It was also about me too—I carried a tension in me, an unquenchable desire to express my true self.

Like so many musicians, I followed the established path—studying with great teachers, attending great schools, and absorbing everything that surrounded me. But the deeper I went down this path, the less of my true self I seemed to express.

This isn’t to dismiss the incredible teachers and mentors I’ve had along the way. There are many who genuinely want to help their students release their true artistic voices. But of course, as we all know, true self-expression comes from within. It can sometimes be difficult to reconcile that deep, personal journey with the often rigid structures of established schools, methods, or organizations.

In my undergraduate years, I fell into a deep, suicidal depression. I was desperate to express what was inside of me, but no matter how hard I worked, I couldn’t seem to get it out. The more I studied and tried to be ‘perfect’, the more the depression set in. This struggle lasted for years.

I’d find temporary relief by making changes. I switched from playing violin to viola, thinking, “This is it! Now I’ll truly express myself.” But after landing a financially stable job in a German orchestra and playing in others in Canada and the U.S., it felt off. So, I switched gears again and became a conductor, convinced that this would be it.

For a while, it seemed like I’d found my place. I started my own orchestra, landed a conducting/music director position in Canada, and guest conducted across the country. But despite the musical and critical success, I actually started to feel worse than ever. My migraines intensified, my health declined, and I did not feel a lot of joy in music.

At this point, I had to ask myself: what do I do now? I knew I loved music, I knew I had musical talent, and I knew that when I truly expressed my musicality, I felt an immense sense of joy. But how could I do that when everything I had tried that I thought would be a perfect (or, at least a really good) fit, didn’t really do it?

So I kept trying things and eventually something surprisingly kind of clicked - singing. It was a natural part of my upbringing, something I did all the time without thinking. But it was so ingrained in me, and came pretty naturally, that I dismissed it as something “not serious”. Singing was fun, but it wasn’t “real” music, or so I thought (and I thought that for just me, not other singers!).

Fast forward several decades, and I found myself in a situation where singing was required. My best friend, a music specialist at a daycare, asked me to substitute for him. I agreed, and soon found myself singing silly songs to kids. To my surprise, not only did they love it, but I felt an overwhelming sense of joy. I started writing my own songs for the children, and they were a big hit.

That experience ignited something in me. I wondered, well, if I could do it for kids, could I write songs for adults? Could singing be another, maybe truer, form of my self-expression?

I began performing at open mics, nursing homes, and small venues. The feeling of joy was there every time I sang, and it felt authentic, like I was finally starting to express that deep, often hidden, inner musicality.

Today, I have a full-fledged career writing and performing songs for both children and adults. But even now, I constantly dig deeper, asking myself if there’s more I want to express. This has led me to new creative outlets: I’ve written a children’s book, created an online music program for kids, and even share my love of classical music (yes, I still love it) with those who feel intimidated by its perceived complexity or just want to dig deeper.

And the exploration, of course, never ends. Self-expression is an ongoing process, one that we need to nurture continuously. Some people are fully tapped into their creativity, while others are still searching.

We all have something important to express and I’m a big believer in giving everyone a chance to do just that.