Momager

Watching a singer-songwriter grow up one verse at a time.

Some babies are born with a silver spoon, others with a microphone, finding their voice before they find their feet.

I had a feeling it was more than luck when my second child burst into the world like a shooting star. Even in the womb, she kicked up a storm, long before the first note. She arrived with the pink light of dawn, as if already knowing something the rest of us were still figuring out.

After a lifetime of turning family dinners into cabarets and each room into a stage, now that baby—thirty-five years later—is turning that creativity into her sharpest work yet.

While the world discovers her songs one verse at a time, I’ve been fortunate to have a front-row seat to the spunk behind the spotlight.

From toddler to teen, the story wrote itself. Pirouettes across the living room floor. Rehearsing lines on the way to a play. Spiral notebooks filled with crossed-out lyrics and ink-stained margins. Long commutes to grueling American Idol auditions. Landing the first real gigs. In between diapers and peacoats, I’ve been the mom manager, cheering the loudest during the silent stretches between the applause.

As the years unfolded, my daughter brought her joy of music to life, either with a band or on her own. Little did she know that another superstar was wiggling his way onto the stage, living a similar dream in a different city with different crowds, under the same midnight sky. Neither one knew the other was humming their missing verse.

Then, as kismet would have it, their parallel lines finally crossed. On a sunny day last May, twin flames collided, spellbinding into something electric, and the real alchemy began.

From that moment, the melody found its harmony, and a new duo was born.

Their first single, Eureka, arrived in the early hours of the third, at 3:33 am, beneath the eclipse of the blood moon.

A little wild. A little healing. Sometimes goofy, always fierce. A gold rush meant to lift your spirits and stir your soul.

Give WYRDandy a listen. Mandy and Dante, bopping together.

Once the music starts, there’s nothing left to figure out.

And this is only the beginning.