Why does every song start with a question?

I am a quiet thinker by nature.

I take time to process and consolidate things.

The problem with this is it usually leaves me still wanting some kind of answer, which isn’t inherently bad. Curiosity is one of our greatest strengths as humans.

But we rarely turn that curiosity inward or focus it towards the plight of others and experience true empathy.

A quick departure before I continue with that…

When I returned to music after almost a decade-long hiatus from playing, writing, or performing, I happened to be experiencing a rather tumultuous period in my life. The stresses of a job that necessitated me to work long and odd hours while compartmentalizing a majority of my waking hours, struggling with my mental health, the frustration and grief stemming from an unhappy marriage, and the ups and downs of being a parent to two strong-willed children.

I was left asking myself who I even was anymore.

I didn’t recognize the face staring at me in the mirror every morning.

My return to writing music occurred rather organically. A few coworkers happened to be getting really into Plini and introduced me to the music. I was immediately drawn to the beautiful complexity of his music. A few more song and band recommendations later, and Set Course for Andromeda by Sithu Aye comes up in an algorithm suggestion on a streaming platform. The scope, emotion, and cohesiveness of that album sparked something in me.

It made me ask myself if I still have something left to say musically.

I looked at my life and asked myself ‘what I could possibly have to say?’ Another question.

We all have questions. We all seek answers we may never find.

But the journey…

The unexpected turns along the way…

How those experiences shape and guide our lives, consciously or unconsciously…

Those are things that are at the basis of the human experience for me.

That became the driving force behind Intrinsic Persona.

The name means, literally, natural identity or true self. I chose it to encapsulate how I wanted to create from then on.

I set out to navigate what I think makes us human, and how we reconcile who we think we are with who we actually are.

This naturally invited a lot of introspection on my part, which, again, left me with more questions than answers.

I wasn’t naïve enough to believe I could even begin to answer the questions that have eluded and consumed the minds of the greatest thinkers in history, but I did know I could offer a perspective that only I could have. No other human has ever experienced exactly the same set of circumstances and stimuli as I have in exactly the same way.

That realization made me feel simultaneously lonely but incredibly connected to humanity.

Instead of coming up with a really great riff or an incredible chord progression, I wanted to see if I could coherently explore the questions that plague me, and in doing so maybe gain a little more understanding of myself along the way.