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I've been playing guitar since I was 14 and green. I have deep interest in song-writing and using the guitar and my voice to tell unique stories and make strange noises. I really began to pick up speed with my playing at the age of eighteen when I moved to Lindsay, ON to attend college for an environmental program. While I was living in the town of Lindsay I met classmates Ken Davie, and Dave Dunn who shared a love of music. The three of us began meeting once or twice a week to blast our alcohol addled music and rehearse for gigs at the local bars and the college pub known as The Auks Lodge.
Ryan Golding was a friend of Ken's and officially dubbed "the guy on the couch" he also happened to play a mean bass and joined in our weekly jams. The music that we made was free style and carefree to say the least.
I continued partying, jamming, busking and partying a lot more to the extent that my education and arguably my life had fallen so far off course the only reasonable choice was to continue partying and making music. It was that very wild lifestyle that eventually introduced me to Kramer Brimley (an alias of course).
Kramer was a wild man who would play his banjo by day at tar sands protests and then drink till the sun rose the next day. Kramer and I shared a love of all types of music and would jam for hours knocking out everything from Grateful Dead to Beethoven on his guitar or banjo. I met Brett Treadwell through Kramer, he was a classmate of his and admittedly one of the worst drummers alive, but he brought something off-kilter to the mix. Brett "the threat", Kramer and I formed The Goatmen.
The Goatmen continued to play together in a small basement room hardly big enough for single mattress yet alone a piano, a drum set, amplifiers and three musicians, but it was all we could afford. The music was beautiful and my songwriting was getting better; unfortunately Kramer caught a train out of town leaving destruction in his wake. I also soon realized that another shittier band had stolen our name, not surprising given it's awesomeness but we couldn't have people confusing us. The band wagon had fallen apart I was forced to take on odd jobs but Kramer and I reunited for one last insane musical mission, before burying The Goat.
I now live an isolated life in Walkerton, ON trying to spark a fire, to capture that beauty once more; but it's just me now. Perhaps if all the ducks line them self up just right and the beat is fucking powerful...you'll be able to hear it too, deep within my music, that subtle magic that fights to stay alive.