When I allow myself to sing in the voices of who I've been, who I am and who I'm still becoming, I create a silent but unique harmony.

As a result, I no longer have to wonder how a choir of love, hope, sadness, joy, anger, fear, regret and gratitude might sound.

I can’t recall even one time when my aesthetic experience was enhanced by knowing when an artist was born, where they grew up, went to school, or how many people were in their family. I would have much preferred learning about their life experiences, worldview, faith, politics, favorite conspiracy theory, and perceived purpose in life. These are the things that would have increased my interaction with their art as I recognized the scattered bits and pieces of their story popping in and out of their work.


For now, let me just say that, over time, I’ve worn every familial hat while being a friend, enemy, employee, entrepreneur, teacher, preacher, comforter and threat. I want to believe that I’ve done more good than harm but not without spending a significant amount of “ass hat” currency on every possible type of human interaction. The conscious balancing act between “saint and sinner” was, at times, exhausting.

On my birthday, gift me that you understand we’re each so much more than our real or imagined mistakes… we will both celebrate for different reasons.

In the past, there have been times when I’ve created music with the hope of experiencing the basic human need for acceptance. Over time, while still desiring recognition, I’ve realized that creating art only as a declaration of my existence is more than enough reason. It can stand on it’s own whispering or shouting: “I’m here, I’ve been here all along, and I’ve been paying attention.” Here’s my proof.

I want to be forever counted among those who sing their heart for as long as it beats within their chest.

Michael Nero
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