I was a shy kid, gangly with an oversized noggin for the deep fried nugget inside. One of those rare breed natives, growing up in the heart of SF. My only home, I do love her still. Knowing early on my passion was made out of well worn triplets and harmonizing hi-hats. Oh, reverse that. The mantra repeated in my heartbeat: Must Consume Music. Chug it down real quick. Then feel it slow and soft like your part-time lover. Be free with it to ebb & flow from soul to sound to song.
My first crack at creating music was bearable only on one frequency: my twisted since of musicality. But beats tend to resonate in the proximity, uninvited into all eardrums. Except for canine, other innocent bystanders were not so tail waggin. Going waaaaay back I got busted with my first vinyl record at show & tell, needless to say KISS detroit rock city was not welcome in the 3rd grade classroom. On to recording whatever and too much with my mono cassette recorder with handy pullout metal handle. I asked santa for a boombox, that bastard. Next I turned to scratch and destroy records on my faux mahogany turntable was were it was at most days. If the volume pushed past 7 it distorted my brain and all of my stoned friends I called bandmates. Rocking the garage too loud the neighbors would come yelling round the block way too much. Rolling out of bed late every morning to skip off to my favorite place of all-time: Mission High. Rap tap tickity tap tapping rhythms on my desk so often, Mr. F, finally told me Santana used to distract the class as much as me, but better and in latin rhythms. But the tap attacks kept coming as unconscious bursts of rhythm, still I dreamed of my future grammy with Santana.
So I played on, played loud, played out at all the best venues in town: Bimbos, Slims, Bottom of the Hill, Elbo Room, DNA Lounge. Funked the house with Family Funk, 9 to 15 member expandable posse of groove. Tore it up with Members of Thrill Kill Kult. So many fun times and many a good memory on the hard drive in my head, and most the rest got defragged during maintenance through the years. Still it sucked lugging all my gear around to gigs, especially for a drummer without a mode of transport. My bandmates really loved that about me, as I had the most crap. I often entertained fantasies of becoming a flutist, those lucky roadie-less fluters they are.
Even while gigging 3 times a week and rehearsing 4 my greedy ears were never on a full tank. I would listen to music all day long only to fall asleep in radioshack headphone bliss at night, just to lay soundtracks to my dreams. Cuz silent movies suck. Ditto on sound just put through the make-a-popstar-recombobulator and sold at a walmart near you. Just the same song with a fella in more makeup than my aunt wheezie on the cd case but I know, and you know, those cookies are all the same. I wont even touch that cookie. I much prefer the original recipe, KFC got it right, yknow they should make cookies. Mmmm. So I can say Im a bit eclectic. A vagabond wanderer of genre landscapes and the spaces in between. A sucker for melancholy material. Ramped up to death metal. And capped off with some fiddle playing. Thats the way I do it, random shuffaluffulicious style. Some call it ADD audio distraction disorder. I call it my life. Music can draw you in so seductively and then transform itself overtime. Like that feeling when the song youve heard over and over and over gets even better. As the best music does. Goosebumps ensue. Even on 8 track mix tapes you cant deny it.
Then one day in the dead of a rainy winter, the uptight Berkeley professor next door always bitchin about the noise, came by and said you know, you sound a lot like Art Blakey. And then it all just clicked. He was a major influence on my style and I guess my new soundsystem worked pretty good. But really, I finally felt they understood me. Or at least a piece of me. Like a rough rock that sounded like shit and scrapped your asshole on the way out was transformed into a bona fide drummer.
And thats where I am today. In my deepest nether regions, music is everywhere. Still rockin the casbah on the drums. Still recording drunken freestyle with friends. Still loopin mixes with Godzilla roars til dawn. Still searching for that elusive synergy with other musicians. Still love the escape of it all, like a glorious sound coma lickin your ears.
