Mike Powell

Mike Powell, who spent the summer on a solo tour across the country, performs back home at the Wescott Theater August 19. Lauren Long / The Post-Standard
In his tidy ordered office, his space of earthy browns and greens, Mike Powell writes revealing verses to explain his fluid storyline.

He sits at a simple black desk and strings words into rhythmic sentences. Some of his lyrics surface from an encounter or an observation. Others flow from inscrutable origins.

"A lot of times when I’m writing, it seems like it’s not even me that’s thinking up this stuff," he said. "It sounds deep, but it feels like my body is a host to a song that is sent to me from somewhere."

That’s the way Powell rolls these days — in uncharted seas of ink, in a search for a freedom he has forever chased.

Before, when people cheered him in lacrosse arenas, they saluted the creativity of his body. As a Syracuse University attackman from 2001 to 2004, Powell won two Tewaaraton Trophies, the only player to twice earn college lacrosse’s highest individual honor. He is the sole Division I lacrosse player to win four attackman-of-the-year awards. He is, said Inside Lacrosse editor-in-chief John Jiloty "one of the best players of all time."

But Powell, always restless about his own ambition, has tucked away that part of his life. Now, he wants us to sample his intellect. He wants us to absorb his lyrics, to shift our focus to the musician who stands before us.

It is a tricky transformation, this jump in genres. There is an orchestrated chorus that protests Powell’s desertion: How can discard his immense athletic talent and deny us the gift of his lacrosse greatness?

Powell does not want us to misunderstand. He cherishes the game. But he never believed lacrosse would persist past college. He never meant to make it his life.

"People always ask me, ‘Don’t you think about playing when you see it on TV?’," he said. "I can tell you honestly, I do not think about playing. I love the game. I love what it did for me. I loved playing. But you gotta move on."

For Powell, who turns 27 next month, music is the preferred new address. This summer, he embarked on a solo performing tour that swept through 48 American cities. His lacrosse contract with Brine, which paid the bills since 2004, has lapsed. Neal Goldman, the product manager of Brine’s men’s lacrosse division, said the company has engaged Powell in contract negotiations that would preserve his endorsed product line.

In the meantime, Powell earns his keep primarily from music. And his peers say he is building a reputation as a serious musician with prolific writing chops.

"It’s bizarre how fast he’s growing," said Skaneateles singer-songwriter Dusty Pas’cal. "The one thing that I’ve seen is more of his confidence in what he’s doing and what he’s saying. It’s being vulnerable. That’s the charm of his music."

"If I didn’t think he was truly a good songwriter and performer, I wouldn’t stump for him. I wouldn’t suggest people book him," said Colin Aberdeen, the front man of Syracuse-based Los Blancos. "In Mike’s case, I really think he’s a great songwriter and he’s just coming into his own. He’s really blooming and it’s very inspiring to be around."

Mike Powell met his musical fate by wandering into the attic of his family’s rented home in Carthage, where he discovered his father’s old Fender. He was 12 or 13 when he carried the guitar to his bedroom to inspect it.

One of the things Powell loved about the guitar was that none of his siblings could claim it. His older brothers, SU lacrosse stars before Mike graduated high school, did not play an instrument. Neither did older sister Gretchen.

"From the first moment I started to mess around with it," he said, "it kind of felt that this was all me."

He wrote his first song at 13. He had missed curfew and his mother’s silent treatment inspired a poem. When Powell sang "Lately," for Sue Powell, tears pooled in her eyes. And Powell was hooked on the power of his pen.

"That was the first time it came across exactly the way I wanted it to come across. It worked," Powell said. "It was the kind of feeling that I still and probably will for the rest of my life strive for. If I can take something that I thought up and present it in a fashion where it affects somebody — mission accomplished."

But lacrosse, the Powell family industry, interrupted the music.

Mike Powell helped SU win two national championships. He was lacrosse’s version of a rock star. His game, with its flips and trick shots, personified cool. And nobody could match his nimble athleticism. He surpassed brothers Ryan and Casey to become SU’s all-time points producer. He was heralded as the future face of the game, a player who could transcend the sport with his playful, quirky charm.

And then, he quit lacro - POST STANDARD

Mike Powell, who spent the summer on a solo tour across the country, performs back home at the Wescott Theater August 19. Lauren Long / The Post-Standard
In his tidy ordered office, his space of earthy browns and greens, Mike Powell writes revealing verses to explain his fluid storyline.

He sits at a simple black desk and strings words into rhythmic sentences. Some of his lyrics surface from an encounter or an observation. Others flow from inscrutable origins.

"A lot of times when I’m writing, it seems like it’s not even me that’s thinking up this stuff," he said. "It sounds deep, but it feels like my body is a host to a song that is sent to me from somewhere."

That’s the way Powell rolls these days — in uncharted seas of ink, in a search for a freedom he has forever chased.

Before, when people cheered him in lacrosse arenas, they saluted the creativity of his body. As a Syracuse University attackman from 2001 to 2004, Powell won two Tewaaraton Trophies, the only player to twice earn college lacrosse’s highest individual honor. He is the sole Division I lacrosse player to win four attackman-of-the-year awards. He is, said Inside Lacrosse editor-in-chief John Jiloty "one of the best players of all time."

But Powell, always restless about his own ambition, has tucked away that part of his life. Now, he wants us to sample his intellect. He wants us to absorb his lyrics, to shift our focus to the musician who stands before us.

It is a tricky transformation, this jump in genres. There is an orchestrated chorus that protests Powell’s desertion: How can discard his immense athletic talent and deny us the gift of his lacrosse greatness?

Powell does not want us to misunderstand. He cherishes the game. But he never believed lacrosse would persist past college. He never meant to make it his life.

"People always ask me, ‘Don’t you think about playing when you see it on TV?’," he said. "I can tell you honestly, I do not think about playing. I love the game. I love what it did for me. I loved playing. But you gotta move on."

For Powell, who turns 27 next month, music is the preferred new address. This summer, he embarked on a solo performing tour that swept through 48 American cities. His lacrosse contract with Brine, which paid the bills since 2004, has lapsed. Neal Goldman, the product manager of Brine’s men’s lacrosse division, said the company has engaged Powell in contract negotiations that would preserve his endorsed product line.

In the meantime, Powell earns his keep primarily from music. And his peers say he is building a reputation as a serious musician with prolific writing chops.

"It’s bizarre how fast he’s growing," said Skaneateles singer-songwriter Dusty Pas’cal. "The one thing that I’ve seen is more of his confidence in what he’s doing and what he’s saying. It’s being vulnerable. That’s the charm of his music."

"If I didn’t think he was truly a good songwriter and performer, I wouldn’t stump for him. I wouldn’t suggest people book him," said Colin Aberdeen, the front man of Syracuse-based Los Blancos. "In Mike’s case, I really think he’s a great songwriter and he’s just coming into his own. He’s really blooming and it’s very inspiring to be around."

Mike Powell met his musical fate by wandering into the attic of his family’s rented home in Carthage, where he discovered his father’s old Fender. He was 12 or 13 when he carried the guitar to his bedroom to inspect it.

One of the things Powell loved about the guitar was that none of his siblings could claim it. His older brothers, SU lacrosse stars before Mike graduated high school, did not play an instrument. Neither did older sister Gretchen.

"From the first moment I started to mess around with it," he said, "it kind of felt that this was all me."

He wrote his first song at 13. He had missed curfew and his mother’s silent treatment inspired a poem. When Powell sang "Lately," for Sue Powell, tears pooled in her eyes. And Powell was hooked on the power of his pen.

"That was the first time it came across exactly the way I wanted it to come across. It worked," Powell said. "It was the kind of feeling that I still and probably will for the rest of my life strive for. If I can take something that I thought up and present it in a fashion where it affects somebody — mission accomplished."

But lacrosse, the Powell family industry, interrupted the music.

Mike Powell helped SU win two national championships. He was lacrosse’s version of a rock star. His game, with its flips and trick shots, personified cool. And nobody could match his nimble athleticism. He surpassed brothers Ryan and Casey to become SU’s all-time points producer. He was heralded as the future face of the game, a player who could transcend the sport with his playful, quirky charm.

And then, he quit lacro - POST STANDARD