The young boy leaned against the banister overlooking the staircase and shouted downstairs “This is the last time I’m going to play that song, Mommy,” before scurrying back to his room to once again place the needle at the edge of the record on the turntable. “Thank God,” muttered an exasperated electrician working in the house, as the boy's mother smiled and the oblivious youngster cranked up the volume and happily seemed as though the next playing of the song was indeed the first time he’d ever heard it.

Growing up, the boy continued to have a special relationship with music, as it provided the soundtrack to a sort of Calvin and Hobbes-like imagination, where he was always the superhero, and was always there to save the day. In this land of childhood creativity, he could be anything he wanted to be, do anything he wanted to do, and accomplish anything he wanted to achieve.

As the years went on, the role of music as a soundtrack to his life grew. Music was that reliable friend who could always be counted on to be there, no matter what. It accompanied and celebrated the times of triumph and joy, and it cheered or commiserated in the times of sadness, fear, and doubt.

It was in the music that he eventually grew to see the very Hand of God upon his life…

Welcome to