This morning, I ran to Indian Rock in Berkeley. I do this once or twice a week - run to the rock, climb to the top, survey the view, climb down and run home. Sometimes there are other people on the rock, and they ask me to take their picture with the Golden Gate Bridge in the background, or else we politely nod and then ignore each other. Today, there was a guy sitting at the top of the rock, so I smiled and then sat down at a respectable distance. Not gonna lie, I had been (moderately) blasting Tame Impala and MIA on my iPhone while running, but I took out my earbuds to listen to my surroundings. Lots of birds, a little wind, the futuristic whir of BART, moving air. Then, the guy behind me pulled out a flute and began to play a simple song. It wasn't particularly prodigious but it was perfect and beautiful because it was real - a man connecting with his instrument, colliding with the air, creating a song on a warm February morning, surrounding me and pulling me into his sonic landscape. A reminder that we can be moved by music in its simplest form. Thanks, mystery man, for your impromptu concert for one.

Last night, I celebrated with my fellow GRAMMY nominees from the San Francisco chapter of the Recording Academy at the very swanky Lodge at the Regency. (Which, I must add, features a fully functioning 1909 Austin pipe organ. If only they had blasted an ominous chord when they called me to the stage instead of, you know, just announcing my name...)

What a great time! As a newcomer to the Bay Area, I truly appreciate being welcomed into this community and meeting so many talented engineers and musicians and music creators.

Here is a short interview I did with Kitty Margolis for GrammyPro about "sonic archaeology" and restoring Erroll Garner'sThe Complete Concert By The Sea.

And here I am trying out Dolby Atmos, watching and listening to Paul McCartney perform "Live and Let Die" in full cinematic virtual reality. It's the future!

Like so many of us, I've been listening to David Bowie's Blackstar over and over these past few days. I have not been so emotionally unmoored by a work of art in a long time. It is devastating and uplifting and reminds me why we create art, why we need art. Bowie recorded this at The Magic Shop in NYC, the studio I called home for over six years. I was not involved with the project, but I would pass him in the hallways, and sometimes I could hear bass lines and kick drums through the ceiling. I had no idea what he and his fellow musicians, artists, producers and engineers were creating in the studio. I had no idea.