A woman was trying to poke my sides while singing "boop boop de doo" in a high-pitched and strangely passionate voice. That was my mother. Tickle torture and absurd singing was an instant cure for my pouting as a child. I couldn't resist laughing at this awkwardly dancing, animal noise-making, insanely grinning mother of mine.

This apple doesn't fall far from the tree, my friend. I can still be heard frolicking around my apartment or the sidewalk or an elevator, howling my own special verbal concoctions. One day my roommate at Syracuse, Geoff, told me, "man, you're so annoying and I can't stand your singing, but you've got to do music with your life because you love it so much." I thought that was a pretty good idea, and my senior year of college, studying abroad in Wollongong, Australia, I played my first "open-mic" night.

My leg shook so much that I could barely find the strings as the guitar bounced wildly on my knee. I played a few songs from my tiny and brand new repertoire, in shock from my bodies response and fantasizing amputating my leg. "I did it! Yeah! Woo hoo for me! That was awful!" I got off stage proud that I had gotten up, but brooding over how much better I felt I could do. So an hour and some beers later, I got back up for round two and I can't tell you how I grew as a performer in that hour. Big progress, the leg bouncing was less violent and more of a vibrating this time, and I managed to feel pretty good up there.

I spent the next 8 months in the south of France, in a town called, Aix-en-Provence. With my homemade 5-song demo in hand, I went bar to bar, club to club pawning my cd to try and get shows. Maybe my odd French accent and furry coat fooled them into thinking I knew what I was doing, because I soon had a line-up of shows. I played shows twice a week and soon had two different bands of French and Italian musicians I played with in the streets and clubs along the Mediterranean. But as much as I enjoyed speaking my Tarzan-like French in between songs, I longed to be understood... People could bob their heads to my music, but most had no idea what I was saying.

So I moved back to New Rochelle, New York, a suburb outside the city, and got a job as a live-in nanny for a 15-year old in exchange for room and board. Spent nights in their basement writing songs and rubbing their dog Clue's belly and days driving Peter home from school in between editing wedding and bar mitzvah videos to save up money. I soon had more than enough material for an album, and a budget of $25 dollars I had saved from working.

Next I did what anyone in my position would have done to make their first album right and spare no expense - I signed up for as many credit cards as I possibly could. Preferably those with low finance rates and really cool designs on the front. I found some talented producers on craigslist.org to help me realize my vision, and here I am today with my first album, a debt equivalent to a year's worth of college tuition, and a tent for a bedroom in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. This is my adventure baby, come stop by and say hi sometime, mkay?

Artist official site: http://www.derekjamesmusic.com

Real Magic TV presents relaxed interviews and live performances with famous musicians and celebrities. The show's host Jonathan Real is a professional magician that performs for the celebrities during the interviews.

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