Velvet
Vendetta
What started as a way to survive the fire became a place to turn it into something worth creating.
Enter Real & Raw
Velvet VendettaOriginal breakup music and visual storytelling about heartbreak, failed relationships, broken trust, grief, consequences, dark humor and the strange process of turning emotional chaos into something creative.
Real & Raw
The heavier work — grief, consequence, anger, heartbreak, memory, and everything underneath the anger that finally had nowhere left to hide.
ALL OF YOUR SHIT
An explosive visual song about the physical and emotional wreckage someone can leave behind.
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3 Days to Sweep the Glass
A dark, cinematic piece about fracture, memory, and what remains after everything breaks apart.
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Then What
A hard look at consequence — what happens when avoidance eventually runs out of road.
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Swipe it Away
A hypnotic look at distraction, scrolling, avoidance, and the things a screen cannot make disappear.
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Afraid of Your Own Kids
A story about approval-seeking, parenting, boundaries, and the cost of needing to be the fun parent.
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EVERYTHING I BROKE
A confessional about remorse, damage, shame, and the wreckage of a relationship seen all at once.
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He Carried Me In
The musical turning point where satire gave way to grief — and a pastime started becoming a project.
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To the Next Woman
A message forward — part warning, part grief, part release.
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46 Years
A reflective piece about patterns, consequence, time, and the weight of repetition.
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Father By Reservation
A raw look at fatherhood by schedule, distance, approval, and what it means when showing up becomes conditional.
Song page →Factually Funny
Sharp, factual, absurd and intentionally funny. A separate lane for the songs that turned chaos into punchlines before the grief took center stage.
Three Times a Fool
An earlier Velvet Vendetta piece from the factual, sharp, intentionally funny era.
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Karma Don’t Forget
An earlier Velvet Vendetta piece from the factual, sharp, intentionally funny era.
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Too Chicken
An earlier Velvet Vendetta piece from the factual, sharp, intentionally funny era.
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All the Tools
An earlier Velvet Vendetta piece from the factual, sharp, intentionally funny era.
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44 Going on 22
An earlier Velvet Vendetta piece from the factual, sharp, intentionally funny era.
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Parking Lot Petty
An earlier Velvet Vendetta piece from the factual, sharp, intentionally funny era.
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Act Like a B***
An earlier Velvet Vendetta piece from the factual, sharp, intentionally funny era.
Song page →About Velvet Vendetta
Velvet Vendetta was never supposed to become a thing.
It started with anger, sarcasm, and the kind of humor you develop when reality gets so ridiculous that laughing at it feels better than screaming.
So I wrote about it.
The first songs were factual, sharp, petty in all the right places, and funny because sometimes the only satisfying response to chaos is turning it into material.
Then the joke stopped being the whole story.
Anger has layers. Eventually you get underneath it.
That’s where the grief was.
The songs got darker. The stories got more honest. The punchlines started sharing space with heartbreak, regret, consequence, and all the things you don’t really feel until the adrenaline wears off.
And somewhere between making fun of the mess and actually processing it, I accidentally found something I loved.
Creating.
Not just writing songs — building them.
Finding the right lyric. Chasing the right sound. Turning a feeling into a scene. Matching an image to a line. Learning production, pacing, editing, visual storytelling, character, mood, and all the tiny details that make something hit exactly the way you imagined it.
One idea became ten. Then twenty. The distraction became an obsession with learning.
Velvet Vendetta became a place where satire and grief could exist in the same room. Where something ugly could become something cinematic. Where anger could be funny, heartbreak could be beautiful, and a story could be told exactly the way I wanted to tell it.
Some of it is factually funny. Some of it is real and raw. All of it came from turning chaos into something worth creating.
This didn’t start because I wanted to make music. It started because I needed somewhere for the fire to go.
Where It Changed
If you watch the earliest Velvet Vendetta videos in order, you can actually see the project changing.
In the beginning, Nick was almost a parody of himself — exaggerated, ridiculous, intentionally laughable. The character fit the music because the music was doing the same thing.
But little by little, the caricature started losing some of those exaggerated features. He became less funny. So did the music.
He Carried Me In was the point where I really felt the transition happening. It wasn’t simply the instruments. It was what the arrangement did to me.
The song barely gave you anything at first. The vocal felt almost exposed. The empty space became part of the music. Then the synth appeared — not loudly, not dramatically. It just started to exist.
The song made me wait. It withheld. It teased. It introduced just enough to make me feel like something was coming, but never enough to satisfy that feeling completely.
Then the bass and drums seemed to braid themselves into the synth. The keys and higher textures filled the remaining space until everything that had entered separately was suddenly moving as one.
The power was in the restraint before the release.
That was the moment I stopped simply hearing the song and started wondering: how did it do that to me?
I wanted to understand why waiting made the payoff feel bigger. Why the empty space mattered. Why introducing one sound ten seconds earlier or later could completely change the emotional effect.
I wanted to reverse-engineer the feeling.
That was where Velvet Vendetta stopped being a pastime and became a project.
Some of it is factually funny. Some of it is real and raw. All of it came from turning chaos into something worth creating.