The Songwriter Within: My Journey Through Music and Lyrics

I was a songwriter long before I realized it. At age five, I remember lying on the living room floor with my sister, trying to write lyrics just because it felt like "the right thing to do." I grew up in a household that thrived on music and art. My dad’s classic rock and eclectic taste, my mom’s love for chanson, my sister’s admiration for singer-songwriters, and my brother’s fascination with R&B and indie sounds created a mosaic of musical influences that shaped me.

I don’t like being boxed into genres. When people ask what kind of music I make, I often pause, exhale, and land on "singer-songwriter." But the truth is, every song, no matter its final form, begins from that perspective.

Think of a song with elaborate production - the kind that feels like a cinematic experience. Chances are, it started with one instrument and a handful of words. That’s the magic of “three chords and the truth.” A good song doesn’t need to be complicated; it just needs to connect.

In the past, I’ve faced comments like, “This song is too simple; make it more sophisticated.” But they miss the point. The hardest thing in songwriting - and in art - is often distilling complexity into simplicity. Songwriting demands that you take an entire story, strip it down to its core, and present only what’s essential in a three or four-minute piece. That challenge fascinates me. Some of the best pop songs, deceptively simple at first listen, are often the hardest to write.

Inspiration is its own mystery. Some of the best songs I’ve written weren’t laboured over; they came to me fully formed, as if they already existed, waiting to be discovered. It’s when I stop overthinking and let inspiration - a person, a place, or even a fleeting moment - lead the way that the music truly flows.

At its heart, songwriting is magical. When you get it right, there’s nothing else like it. It connects you to something greater, a harmony that’s hard to put into words. My hope is that as many people as possible experience the joy of laying down the perfect combination of lyrics, melody, and story.

My first “real” song came when I was 15, in grade 10. It was called “Don’t Think About Tomorrow,” inspired by a family trip to Italy. It tells the story of two lovers torn apart by time and distance - a dramatic tale conjured by my teenage imagination.

I started writing that song because I felt like had so much to say and so many stories and no other way to express it. Songwriting became my outlet, first as an experiment, then as
a way of life - a tool to process my emotions and thoughts.

Since then, I’ve been writing relentlessly. Songwriting isn’t something I reserve for recording sessions; it’s woven into my daily life. While I began recording music during the pandemic, most of what I write remains private. That makes the songs I do share feel even more special.

My journey with music started when I picked up the guitar a few years before that first song. Learning to play gave me the ability to add music to my lyrics, but it’s not essential
to songwriting. Recently, I’ve been exploring co-writing, which has pushed me to expand my artistic horizons and step out of my comfort zone.

My recording journey began in Edmonton, AB, where I discovered a wealth of talent in the local music scene. From recording producers and engineers to session players, musicians, performers, and singer-songwriters, the city is a hub of creativity. I’ve been inspired by the unique flavour each artist brings, and I’ve curated a playlist of my favourite songs - including those by Edmonton artists. I hope it inspires you to pick up a pen and start writing.

I’d like to close with a line that I wrote in the first song I ever recorded, "Love You the Same", and which still remains true for me to this day: It holds a double meaning. On one level, it reflects on a relationship, but secretly, it’s also about my relationship with songwriting itself.

“If no one ever hears, or if it’s everywhere, I will always love you the same.”

Playlist