If you meet Michelle before you hear her music, you might be surprised to find out she plays folk.  She doesn't fit the profile. She quotes Homer Simpson before Paul Simon.  She prefers Mardi Gras to Earth Day.  She drives fast.  She throws snowballs. She talks loud, she eats meat, and if you leave the mayonnaise off her sandwich she might try to fight you.

If you hear Michelle's music before you meet her, you might be surprised at her exuberance.  Her songs throw you against a wall.  They kick you out of the house and walk around naked.  They call up to heaven.  They crumble at your feet.

At first, it doesn't add up.

But then you get to know her better and you begin to notice that she always tells the truth. You notice that she's been listening the whole time. You realize how much she values sincerity and that, even when she's clowning around, she's just being herself.

Then you listen to her lyrics and you hear the triumph.  You understand that she finds as much exhilaration in performing her music as she does the rest of her life.  More, even.  You realize that when she performs she is living the life to which her songs aspire.

Michelle's music is caring, vivacious and completely authentic.  Watch her perform and you will understand.  Her fingers articulate every note; her voice picks out every word.  But you don't hear notes and you don't hear words.  When Michelle plays, all you hear is music, and it all makes sense.