I knew early on that music was why I was here.

Grew up folk. Played rock. All kinds of blues. Got jazzy. Wrote a lot of songs. Had a family band, The Goodman Brothers. Steve Kimock, guitar master, played lead.

Went to California in ‘75—had a manager, showcases, promising gigs—were living the dream. Got really close. 7 years later, still broke and unsigned, disbanded. Left performing behind. Kept writing songs.

In ’93 made a CD with brother Billy—‘Crooked Smile’—, classic California folk. Played Germany and Italy for a couple of years. Nobody much heard it in the U.S.. Went to Nashville, founded a webzine about songwriters, and stopped performing again. Kept writing songs.

Duck and I hooked up late in life, though we knew each other as teens. That changed everything. She got me singing and playing again, I showed her some bass, and we started playing gigs. I remembered again that music was why I was here. Late Bloomer tells that story.

It's never too late to be who you are.





Late Bloomer
Whole Lotta Country
Throwing Beer Cans at the Moon
Far Be It From Me
Get Along
She's Got a Hole in Her Heart
Broken River
You Can't Outrun the Rain
Til You Hit The Bottom


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