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A Life in Music

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One of my earliest musical memories takes me back to 1982 or 1983. I was just a kid, lying in the back of our family station wagon, staring up at the stars as my mom drove to pick up my dad from work. The radio was on, and a song came through the speakers—Arthur’s Theme by Christopher Cross. Even now, when I hear it, I’m back in that car, under that same night sky.

 

Music was always around me. My dad sang and whistled constantly in the car. In junior high, I was given my first instrument—an alto saxophone. I hated it. I wanted to play the drums. Instead, I joined the chorus because I loved to sing (and still do).

 

At 17, I got my first guitar for Christmas—a Fender Squier. I

promised my mom I’d take lessons, but after three sessions of nothing but the high E string, I quit. Well, postponed. A few weeks later, I discovered tablature online—this was the early days of the internet in 1998—and within no time, I was playing Plush by Stone Temple Pilots.

 

By the next year, I had written five songs, the first being Anderson’s Basement, inspired by waiting for a friend to come home. That song became my first recorded original and appeared on both My Attempt (1999) and Reaching Away From Me (2000), the latter of which also gave me Angel Dear #3, a song I still enjoy playing today.

 

I left for university with two albums under my belt and a drive to start a band. That band became First Name Basis. We played anywhere and everywhere—from frat houses at Penn State to Chicago clubs, learning the ins and outs of the music scene along the way. In 2002, we recorded Everything All At Once in an intense week-long session. We were immensely proud of that album.

 

On January 3, 2003, First Name Basis broke up. It was heartbreaking. We had such high hopes for where we wanted the music to go, but somewhere along the way, our destinations changed—just as they do for so many hardworking bands.

 

That year, I threw myself into learning more about guitar. I picked up new techniques, experimented with looping pedals, and wrote my first new material in two years. One of those songs started as an instrumental piece called Passions of Mozart. In 2004, while living in Schaumburg, IL, I finally found the words—searching for meaning in the breakup of First Name Basis—and My Skin was born. To this day, it remains one of my favorite songs I’ve written.

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Around the same time, I started a small acoustic project called Boxcar with Gabriel Gomez. We had a single performance in downtown Chicago and a radio interview, but that was the extent of it.

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In 2005, I moved to Colorado, drawn by the inspiration of the mountains. I posted an ad on Craigslist looking for musicians and ended up connecting with a drummer named Stevland Kullas. We spent five years piecing together what became Two Days Drive. In 2006, we found our bassist and lifelong friend, Jed Riley. Together, we built a strong following in Denver, had two songs on the radio, we played the Mid American Music Festival in Omaha in 2008, and recorded our EP Pages Fold, a true labor of love.

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In 2009, Two Days Drive ended on a high note, playing a benefit show for Denver Children’s Hospital at The Grizzly Rose. It was a special way to close that chapter.

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Not Looking Ahead—Yet

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After Two Days Drive, my focus shifted. In 2011, I moved to Seattle and recorded a few tracks in our loft in Denny Triangle—some of which may still see the light of day. In 2012, my wife and I suffered an unimaginable loss, and soon after, we returned to Denver to be near family.

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Life changed. Our sons, Meyer Colden (born 2014) and Raleigh Anderson (born 2017), became my greatest songs yet. Music was always there, but it wasn’t my priority.

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Still, I wasn’t entirely done. In 2018, I released the Tenth Anniversary Edition of Pages Fold along with a 20-year retrospective album. It was a look back, a tribute to the road I had traveled—not necessarily a step forward.

 

Looking Ahead

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Then, in 2021, something shifted. During the pandemic, I sat down at a piano—an instrument I had never seriously played before—and something clicked. What started as a way to pass the time became a rediscovery of why I fell in love with music in the first place. Writing felt new again, uninhibited.

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Since then, I’ve written close to 30 new songs. Some came quickly, like they had been waiting for me. Others evolved over time, shaped by the ways I’ve grown as a musician. I’ve explored new styles, revisited old ideas with fresh ears, and even collaborated with my wife on a song.

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For the first time in years, I’m not just reflecting on music—I’m moving forward with it.

There are songs that still need to be heard.

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And this time, they will be.

 

Stay tuned.