Sweet Dreams & Starlight
From the Liner Notes... As I look back on my music over the years, it's fascinating to see how each of my albums reflects a particular period of my life. It's almost as if my history, since the age of about 20, has been put to music. Sweet Dreams & Starlight is no different. This particular album, however, marks my transition into fatherhood. What makes this album somewhat unexpected is that up until a few years ago, I wasn't even sure I wanted to be a father. When Julie and I married in 1989, we agreed to wait ten years before having kids. That allowed me to push all consideration of fatherhood to the back of my mind. We kept to our schedule. Almost exactly ten years after our wedding, Julie became pregnant, and on March 9th of 2000, my son Nathan was brought into this world. That was the moment everything changed. Due to complications with Julie's pregnancy, I was the primary caregiver for little Nathan during his first few days on Earth. The irony of this did not go unnoticed by me. After spending my entire life avoiding contact with babies, I was now bathing, changing, and nurturing one on a near 24-hour basis. During those first, intense days, my heart was transformed. I bonded deeply with my son. It's now been four years since Nathan was born and I thank God for him every day. He is such a joy and blessing to us. And, as if to say 'I want to bless you even more' God gave Julie and I another child, Noelle, a sweet little girl born to us on June 12th, 2003. Fatherhood has completely altered my perspective on life and family. Where I was once rather pessimistic about becoming a father, I now view fatherhood as a role I was made for. My children have released in me a deeper, more profound love than I had any idea I was capable of. They are now as much a part of me as is my own heartbeat. And that is, in part, why I put this collection together. I wanted to give my children an album they could call their very own; a gift of music from the father who loves them more than he can express with words alone. David Nevue, March 2004.