When I was young lad, my propensity for noise and inclinations toward art teamed up with
my mostly failing athleticism to create a socially-motivated young rock god. It was
seventh grade. I was playing saxophone in the school band and listening to a lot of
Nirvana and 90’s radio. I am lucky enough to have parents that indulged my musical
endeavors at every turn, no matter how weird. They dealt with casual acceptance, with
hours of unlistenable rumblings, twangings and dingings. I was more of a socialite
than a musician though, and eventually cut my playing down to try the business of
music with my good buddy Mike Caito. We produced music, CDs, t-shirts, patches and
promoted concerts in high school and it was crazy fun.
Later on I was generally at odds with college. Ok, I was despondent over the profoundly
silly, exclusive, wasteful and unsustainable culture boiling-over therein. I’m aware
that the whole system’s foundation is in the High School support beams, but college
continues the nonsense for profit and then cattle-prods its product out into the job(less)
market, full of debt, ready to perpetuate the terrible cycle ever-forward. I consider it
a crime, friends. Most people aren’t aware of the amount of thought that goes into
designing campuses to endure rebellion; they are expecting us to riot.
Through the smoke, music (sweet music) had the opportunity to resurface in my life; and
I must be lucky because I was graced with a cosmically perfect set of like-minded people
to live with in our torpor-induced seclusion... who played music a lot. Here’s an old
recording of my friend Kevin Fitzgerald and I improvizing in my empty room the very last
day we were living in our house. After being eaten by college for four years, I was, thanks
to the combined efforts of aforementioned house-mates, capable of the character in this
recording.
After graduating, doing some film work and cleaning a bunch of toilets, the glitz and
glam world of After School Programming presented itself on the quest for a Fireman’s
job. Again my luck prevailed because the children of the West Side of Buffalo managed
to heal my higher-learning scars completely and I found myself laughing constantly.
However, I also found myself working constantly and that’s where The (Great and Mighty)
Bloodthirsty Vegans surfaced. Greatly in need of an outlet from the rigors of my demanding,
outstanding, wacky-time with the STAR program I met a band in need of a drummer who could
hold a beat. We were a perfect fit; especially later on when I could hold a beat.
Now, with a CD baby on the way, we’re just one big happy family, rockin’ out with our
bikes out, makin’ noise for joyz and groovin’ groovy grooves for all the dudes and
dudettes of the multitudes. Happily, I drum the drums for dances of freedom on a set
I purchased from a friends flooded basement in 1998 (for $75). Thanks to Alex, Janna,
Ben and Brrrn I have much gratitude because there are
indeed "e-nough drums for everyone". Peace, love and the desire to spread those
things. Ride a bike. Buy less crap and more art. Do what you have to do, how you
have to do it. I’m out(side).
