A few careers happened first.
Biochemistry. Technology. Entrepreneurship. A bakery café. Decades helping people solve problems. The common thread was always curiosity.
I’ve built companies, baked bread, done tech support from the Great Wall of China, and fallen in love. Every time, an adventure. Some of it worked out. All of it is song material.


I’ve never been especially good at being just one thing. Husband, father, widower. Entrepreneur, daily singer, habitual walker. Collector of more than 70 hats.
I started out in biochemistry, moved into technology, became an entrepreneur, built and sold businesses, spent time running a bakery café, and somehow accumulated more than four decades as a technology consultant.
Then, at 68, I wrote my first song.
I wasn’t looking for another career. I certainly wasn’t following a carefully constructed plan. I just discovered that songwriting gave me a new way to make sense of things I’d been thinking and feeling for years—love, loss, family, aging, relationships, resilience, and the sometimes ridiculous business of being human.
One song became more songs. At 70, I released my first album, No Regrets. Then I kept going.
My music is now one part of a life that still includes technology, new ideas, friends, family, long walks, singing every day, and an apparently inexhaustible appetite for starting things.
So this site isn’t really a musician’s résumé. It’s a place to meet me.
And if, after that, you’re curious what I sound like, that’s where the songs come in.
Biochemistry. Technology. Entrepreneurship. A bakery café. Decades helping people solve problems. The common thread was always curiosity.
The first was “I Mae”—a play on words, inspired by falling in love with my girlfriend Billie. One song turned out to be a beginning.
Music, stories, businesses, ideas, relationships — and a collection of hats that may already qualify as its own estate-planning category.
Listen right here. These are songs I wrote—there’s a story behind every one. My voice on the first three; Devyn Rush brings her own to “Triggered.”
The chorus arrived in a Costco aisle. I was pushing my cart, laughing to myself, and hoping I’d remember the words long enough to get outside and write them down. Apparently, my daily walk had picked up a song along with the groceries.
One too many dating profiles read like a shopping list. As if checking every box could deliver a great relationship. I’ve been dating since my mid-fifties. The lists haven’t gotten shorter. This song is me laughing at the whole business.
I spent years chasing the brass ring. Writing No Regrets, I began to hear myself in the songs. These days, I’m comfortable in my own skin. More joy. More kindness. Less auditioning for somebody else’s idea of me.
Sometimes the argument in the room has been going on inside us for years. I wrote “Triggered” about old wounds showing up in new fights—and learning to notice them before they do all the talking.
Laurie Beechman Theatre at West Bank Café. Original songs and the stories that made them necessary — love, loss, family, aging, relationships, resilience, and whatever else sneaks onto the stage.
My 72nd birthday. My second album. An afternoon worth making a little noise about.
Doors at noon · 407 West 42nd Street, New York
With guest violinist Joana Carvalhas, “The Tiny Musician.”
