I was Born on a Greyhound bus somewhere between the Port Authority of New York and Muscle Shoals, AL. Daddy had left our one-room tenement in Hell's Kitchen to make some money gambling and playing pool, so mama headed down south to try her luck as a blue-eyed soul singer on the Chitlin' Circuit.
Spent most of my childhood living in various motels in Florida, learning to play guitar and sing from the bluesmen momma took up with. Around the time I was 16, got into a scrape with the local authorities which led to my leaving the country for a bit while things cooled down.
Moved to Paris and rented out a spare room in a Pigalle brothel. Made money any way I could. Learned quite a bit from my neighbors. Had a regular spot in the Bois de Boulogne where I did my thing and played Jacques Brel songs for whatever I could get.
Took a bad turn with the needle around 21 and a gypsy friend of mine brought me to Romany to clean up. Spent the next few years traveling with his family, learning a few of their licks. One summer, while our camp was in Tuva, met a throat singer who turned me on to a Nepalese monastery where I ended up living for two years, never once uttering a word.
Eventually realized that wasn't working for me so headed east. Ended up with a residency at a Saigon disco, where I met Luffa, a beautiful blonde chanteuse whose family had built up an empire selling sugar cane to europe before the war. Long story short we fell in love.
After a year or so of violently beautiful romance, a day came where Luffa realized she needed to get back to her international brood of adoptive children in New York City. Her private jet came and she was gone just like that, taking my heart with her.
They say that if you really love someone, you'll follow them wherever they go. That's how I got back to New York. So here I am. The rest is a work in progress.
-Dolce
