This is a song and a story about appetites, the kind that grow so big they eclipse all hope of self-control. It’s a reflection on how I’ve lived most of my life, and it's also about my cousin Sean, three years my junior and the closest thing I’ve had to a little brother.

Prescribed Ritalin at the tender age of five, Sean was diagnosed with ADHD — much later it would be revealed that he was actually dyslexic. Amidst the turbulence of his parents’ separation, we spent most weekends together, playing video games, running through the woods, camping, and hitting the beach. At age ten he'd trade his Ritalin for something stronger. By age 13 he was a bona-fide in-the-closet addict. I was there at his intervention in his early twenties. It was no "come to Jesus moment" like you see on TV, but after years of herculean efforts, he did eventually kick the drugs and get healthy.

Missing Sean in my life for all those years led to guilt over failing to see his struggles and not being a better role model. It's probably why I've had such little tolerance for the addictions and potential addictions of those around me, and simultaneously such a hard time wrestling my own vices. There just wasn't room for compassion in my heart, only anger and fear whenever someone around me might be losing that battle. I apologize to anyone I couldn't be there for, including myself.

The title “Hungry” comes from both Sean's and my own outsized appetites. As kids Sean was infamous for declaring his hunger merely an hour after eating. My hunger was more about not knowing when to quit, whether that be taking down more food than a skinny boy could handle, constantly pushing my daredevil tendencies to the brink of injury, or my first true addiction, video games. I remember vividly becoming aware of my video game problem, secretly playing a pirated copy of the original top-down Grand Theft Auto until 7 AM on a school night. Video games were like crack for my young mind and I kept helping myself to more. It's only fitting that the Nintendo Entertainment System (NES) features prominently as an instrument throughout the song. These addictions and the shame they bring are transformed into art, and the objects of my addiction are the means of creation.

I write as if I'm wiser now, as if I've got my shit together, but the truth is I still haven’t grown out of overdoing things. Even my artistic practices like writing songs and preparing these very words, are overwhelmed by obsessive revisions and perfectionism, and I still occasionally pull all-nighters during the work week. It takes over my life. Sometimes I hate my art, and myself for wasting so much of my life on it. As we get older, maybe we get wiser, but that doesn't mean we stop hurting ourselves. Personally, I’m making slow progress toward balance and peace... that's another story, and another song.

My co-producer on "Hungry" is Sean’s dad, my Uncle Tony. Sean's sister, Bella, and my sister, Shireen, sing backing vocals. “Hungry” wouldn't be complete without their voices. This is a song for healing a family's wounds, and it takes a family's love for that healing to endure. Thanks to Uncle Tony for co-producing, encouraging me to stay in touch with Sean, and being a major influence on my musical path. He's cheered me on, and helped me every step of the way. Thanks also to Matt Martinez and John Kachnowski for lending their trombone chops to the project. And finally thank you to Sean who has been an inspiration and an example of how a person can bear so much, yet retain their essential goodness and beautiful heart.