Gilda

The Fallen Idol

Hotel Reserve

Laura

Crossfire

49th Parallel

The Fighting Seabees

They Were Expendable

Music credit: Udio

Lyrics:
Suitcase packed, you walked away
No goodbye, a brand new day
Rings on your fingers, bright and bold
A restless spirit, stories untold

Big dreams burning in your eyes
The world awaits, a sweet surprise
There's more than this, beyond the scene
Take a chance, a love unseen

This town's too small, you crave the unknown
But you're not alone, I'll make you my own
Forget the plans, the life they made
Take my hand, escape the shade

Darkness fades, with morning light
Highways endless, holding you tight
Miles from home, towns have passed
The future's ours, free at last

Win or lose, we'll face it all
A wild romance, hearts answer the call
Take my hand, chase the light
Tonight my dear, everything's so right

Take My Hand (Version 2) (AI)

Mad World

DUST

Unbound

Into the Blue

Falling

Skies Have Fallen

Togetherness - with choir in place of the string ensemble. Voices carrying throughout the original song. 

Togetherness -  Choir Version

Scene 3 from the cycle Chains of Sorrow.
The Footbridge is written in a Neo-Classical / Modern Classical style — a hybrid of traditional aria form with contemporary textures. Rather than staged opera, it functions as a concert aria, blending baritone solo and male chorus with chamber ensemble (strings, harp, winds, and subtle percussion).

The piece explores a moment of suspended recognition: the awareness that choices must be made, though clarity never arrives. The baritone voice carries self-questioning phrases, answered and expanded by the chorus, while the orchestration shifts between hushed reflection and urgent surges.

Not tragic but reflective, the music dwells in ambiguity, carrying the listener into the tension between doubt and resilience.

[LYRICS]

Dark were the days of deep despair,
White were the nights of solace rare;
I stood where shadows veil the air,
And sorrow’s weight consumed me there.

I stand between two roads of old,
Each with promise, bright and bold;
The bridge beneath bears not a name,
Yet none who cross return the same.

No guide remains, no hand to lead,
The heart must guard its quiet need;
For choices cut and choices bind,
But silence cuts the deepest kind.

The vessel empties, poured out free;
The stream runs dry, cut from its source.
To walk this path, I must be still;
To bear the weight, I keep my course.

What heart can give when thirsts in vain?
What hand can heal when bound by pain?
I drink from silence, breathe like tide,
That I may stand where paths divide.

The vessel empties, poured out free;
The stream runs dry, cut from its source.
To walk this path, I must be steady;
To bear the weight, I keep my course.

The vessel must fill ere it pour,
The root must drink to bloom once more.

The vessel must fill ere it pour,
The root must drink to bloom once more.

The fog awaits with quiet hand,
To test the path, to mark the stand.

I crossed the bridge, then turned around,
Unsure which side was truly mine;
The fog then curled and closed around,
And blurred each boundary line.

I crossed the bridge, then turned again,
Unsure which side was ever mine;
The fog then veiled the path I trod,
And blurred all boundary lines.

The rail was cold beneath my hand,
As the river rolled dark below;
Its voice was low, a mournful strand,
And echoed what I’ve come to know.

The rail was cold beneath my hand,
As the river rolled dark below;
Its voice was low, yet deeper still,
And echoed what I’ve come to know.

Not every road is meant to show
Its ending from the very start;
But fog is kind to those who wait
And listen with a faithful heart.

A bell rang, time drawn in to full,
A boat slipped slowly out of view;
I felt the moment strain and pull,
Yet still I never truly knew.

Two sides, two lives, both calling out,
Yet neither one could give me peace.
The bridge became a place of doubt,
Where second thoughts find no release.

Not every road is meant to show
Its ending from the very start;
But fog is kind to those who wait
And listen with a faithful heart.

Some choices bloom like morning light,
While others drift like distant mist.
The wiser path is rarely bright,
Yet still a truer way will persist.

Not every road is meant to show
Its ending from the start.

But still I crossed that bridge again,
And followed what I knew was right;
And doubt itself can lead us home—
Yes, at the last, it leads us home.

The self must feed, the self must grow,
Or none may walk where choices go.
For silence guides and silence shows,
The strength that every spirit owes.

The self must feed, the self must grow,
Or none may walk where choices go.


A1-S3 The Footbridge – Aria da Concerto (Baritone • Reflective • Neo-Classical)

Non-musician, alienated synthesist, sound abuser and ambient artist exploring the world of Generative AI in sound and vision.

Music Producer, Composer, Arranger, Pianist.
Instrumental/Ambient music. 
Access your emotions, heal, and experience life through sound here.

I’ve always lived at the crossroads of music and poetry — where feeling becomes form, and melody turns memory into meaning. Whether it’s a lingering jazz note, a well-placed rhyme, or a shift in tempo that tells a deeper story, I’m drawn to that quiet magic where art reflects life with a little more style.

My roots are in classic music — the kind that doesn’t chase the moment but lingers with you long after the last note. Over time, that love expanded into poetry writing and jazz — especially the kind that swings, speaks, and smirks all at once. Jazz, to me, isn’t just a genre; it’s a personality. A conversation. A little tilt of the head and a grin that knows more than it says.

When I set out to create an album, it’s rarely just a collection of songs. I approach it like a personal playlist — one that drifts and flows as if the entire tracklist were one long, uninterrupted piece. Each track leans into the next, shifting mood, pace, or voice, but always carrying the same thread of feeling. I want you to listen the way I do — not as a shuffle of moments, but as a cinematic arc. One breath that lasts an hour.

Lyrically, my work is rooted in lived experience. Sometimes it’s obvious. Other times it’s just the skeleton of a memory, dressed up in wit, irony, or longing. I draw from real-life events, then let the poet in me twist, stretch, or sweeten them to taste. Depending on the tone of the album — playful, romantic, nostalgic, or something in between — I try to keep the emotional truth intact while giving it a fresh coat of creativity. A little humor where it fits. A deeper dive where it hurts.

My newest jazz album continues this tradition — short-lined swing tracks, conversational duets, and tongue-in-cheek storytelling. It’s an homage to late-night alleyway ballads, rooftop serenades, and train station goodbyes — all bound together with a sense of charm and cohesion. Each song is its own little scene, but together they tell a story — one you can revisit with each replay.

Thanks for stopping by my profile. I hope you find something that earns a spot on your repeat-play list — a melody, a lyric, or a moment that feels like it was written just for you.

New tracks tagged #Classical-Crossover