In late 2006, 25 years into my music career, my life took a turn. My best friend Tony died following an 11-year battle with MS. He was only 45. From our first days of High School in Detroit until his last breath, we were best friends. We had been each other’s Best Man and, as he reminded me in our last conversation: often the only ones who believed in each other when it felt like the rest of the world didn’t. Tony, for better or worse, was unapologetically Tony – always true to himself. As one of the most loyal friends I ever had, he continually encouraged me to be the same – especially with my commitment to music and my creative gifts. Music had been one of our greatest bonds as friends, and often one of the only things that made sense to the two of us when the world didn’t seem to make any sense at all. As I traveled home from Tony’s funeral, I asked myself what he would want most from me now. I wondered how I could best celebrate his life and our loving friendship in the days and years ahead. What would he encourage me to do, even if nobody else would (including me)? Then I asked myself: What’s something on my own bucket list that I have been afraid to do? The answers that came manifested into a music project called Soul Noir: Stories Without Words. I had always wanted to record a world-class jazz record of my own music. I felt called to share what I learned from working with some of the great jazz masters during my years at the University of Michigan, where Tony and I had lived and studied together. I had been blessed to produce shows for the likes of Miles Davis, Sara Vaughn, Ella Fitzgerald, Herbie Hancock, Wayne Shorter, and Ray Charles. Just as the great Soul and R&B artists of Motown formed my identity growing up in Detroit, jazz later gave me the rich musical palette that I was able to infuse into many of my film scores and orchestral works after I arrived on the scene in Hollywood. Even after all that, however, I had never allowed myself to record my own jazz album. Any time the idea had sparked in my consciousness, the same voice of reason quickly doused the flame of inspiration, “How could I waste my time and profession on something that didn’t have a clear marketplace or way to pay for itself?” Tony’s relentless spirit had once again helped me turn my creative spark into a flame big enough to burn through the fear and self-doubt. The day after I arrived back home, I unapologetically invested my savings, blocked out my calendar, sat down to compose, and scheduled the first round of studio sessions to record Scenes in Jazz. I did so with the best musicians I knew in the LA Jazz scene, against any rational business sense, and with Tony’s wild spirit in my heart. The first sessions exceeded my imagination. The sonic alchemy was potent, the collaborative spirit was filled with love and inspiration, and the music that came through us all was beautiful. Then, I got cold feet again. My standards ran extremely high and my savings quickly diminished. Other seemingly more important priorities again demanded my attention, time, and resources. To be truthful, I was afraid of failing – afraid of failing myself, my peers, the music, and Tony. Soul Noir went back on the shelf – that same shelf so many of us have lined with unfinished dreams and fading checklists that sadly fill our long-neglected bucket list. In 2022 – 15 years after losing Tony to this world, my brother Tom passed away from a heart attack. Tom also left with a heart half-full and a bucket of dreams he had given up on. As I reflected on Tom's unfulfilled life, I was reminded of Tony and of the unfinished Soul Noir album that remained half-checked on my list. I returned home this time to finish recording what I had started, knowing that the next funeral could just as easily be my own. I completed the production for the first edition of Scenes in Jazz and committed to put it out into the world under the title of Soul Noir: Stories Without Words. I have also decided to submit the album for consideration for one of the music industry’s highest honors – the Grammy Awards. I am dedicating the project to the lives of my best friend Tony and my brother Tom, donating the proceeds to music and health, and re-committing to unapologetically expressing my unique creative gifts to my fullest potential during this fleeting and precious time called life.