Those of you who know me are quite aware of my musical background. I have played music since I was 12, and written music for almost that long. When my web page is back up, I will let everyone here know the address so that you might grok all that in more perfect fullness. Anyway, I currently have two musical identities. One is the "seasoned" live performer, which I nurture through an Eighties cover band called 88 REWIND, which is based here in Columbia. The other has mutated over the years, from young boy writing piano pieces, to earnest college student enraptured with composition at the formal level, to wannabe rock star, to "seasoned" (damn I hate that word, but it's better than old...or dead), self-contained artist. Nowadays, I will sit before my PC and take advantage of the progression in music technology to create at will in the comfort of my own home. It satisfies me, and makes me very happy.

So why do I still feel the need to perform live?

I've searched for that answer for much of my life, because I like to know how things work and why things happen. I used to think it was an obsession based in something lacking from my childhood, but I have grown to realize that I didn't want for anything in my boyhood days, except perhaps to regain the father I lost to a heart attack when I was two. Then I thought that it was rooted in the need to attract women. I do have to admit, playing in a band is a great ice-breaker and an equally good confidence builder. Finally I did land the woman of my dreams, so that need was thankfully gone. (Hell, I was so happy I didn't write poetry or song lyrics for years, simply because I wasn't miserable enough.) Playing cover tunes is certainly different that trying to put your originals over to someone. They've heard the song before, so they already know whether they like it or not, and hopefully it will remind them of something pleasant...and hopefully they like your version.
I have always liked the camaraderie of working with other musicians, the atmosphere of a live show, and I still do. I also like to make people smile and have fun... hey, I may be on to something here! There is no feeling in the world like I get when an audience is truly listening, totally involved in what is going on in that moment with what they see and hear. It's a glorious thing, and if you do it right, it borders on the truly intimate. For a few minutes, if I'm lucky, I can get them to leave the drama of their worlds behind, and have a little fun with me in mine. When that happens, it's worth the late hours, the low pay, and the muscle soreness the next day, it really is. And I guess that keeps me coming back for more. I don't know how much longer I'll physically be able to maintain this lifestyle, but I suspect they'll have to drag me away. I "retired" three times before, and I have always found the stage irresistable. Someday, I'll hang up my skinny tie and coat and call it a day, but not right now. And you can't make me, either.

Our band plays often at the Flying Saucer here in Columbia, and it's a cool room. It's large, very nicely laid out, and classy. They are a beer emporium, so there's lots of new brews to try. The crowd always seems to really be into what we are doing, and everyone has a blast. If any of you have experiences you'd like to share of great musical moments, feel free. I've got several, but they'll just have to wait for another day.