Ladies and Gentlehams. Here's that song about eating the rich people! But wait, you say: It's not complete! That's right! I'm gonna record soon! I'm hustling my ass off and now I have the money to pay people to rehearse, and to finance the recording by myself. No crowd funding required. In the coming months, when I feel that the band is tight enough, I will bring the pain, one track at a time. If you wanna donate something, go ahead, there's no obligation. It would be very appreciated, but not necessary. You will be getting these teaser tracks intermittently, to prepare you! Enjoy! (note:Teaser tracks are self-recorded using a 2 channel Presonus Audiobox preamp w/PreSonus Studio One, a shure beta 57-A vocal mic, and the backing tracks are composed, arranged, mixed and mastered in Reason. The real recordings will sound INSANE with the live group!)
32 years. Looking back, I find that my vision of how I wanted my musical life to go was flawed. I used to think that I wanted to be in ::insert famous musician name here::'s band, or be part of the ::insert hip new instrumental wunderkind name here::'s hip NYC supergroup. You know, get my name out there as a sideman, play some jazz festivals, play all the hip NYC jazz clubs, humblebrag about playing some club in Europe somewhere no ones ever heard of...you know, all the shit that in 2014, DOES NOT MATTER. I like my weird, outside looking out style, and I refuse to change it just because some douchebag (who will probably be forgotten 20 seconds after they've shuffled off the proverbial mortal coil, in favor of some new kid playing the exact same bullshit) vibes me at a jam session, or as I like to call it (borrowed from George Carlin) a prick waving dick fight. I'm not changing because the hip jazz clique only wants sax players that sound like a Chris Potter/Mark Turner mashup. I'm not changing because I want people to go WOOOO when I play some tired-assed lick that was considered hackneyed in the 70's. Those things don't matter to me anymore. Let the kids compare dick size. Let the kids have their little cliques. Let the kids brag. I'm done trying to be their played out version of hip. I like being weird. I like not fitting in. I'll stumble and fall. Maybe even (figuratively) end up in the ER more times than I'd like to as a result. I sold instruments that I couldn't afford to lose, went through crippling financial debt, fucked up close associations I once had with people because I didn't have the life experience to manage them, (or myself for that matter.) I have scars. At least I'm making my own path. I play life on hard mode. I'll make my mistakes, I'll fail...often horribly, but each time I get up, I'm get stronger. The skin gets thicker. I become more battle hardened. That's how life should be lived. My goal is simple. I'll keep being knocked down, but soon I'll become unstoppable, and not just a sonic force. So...COME AT ME, BRO!!! I'm ready. You with me? I'm not asking for money, I'm not asking for a gig, I'm not asking for an opportunity. I just want you to hear my words, and maybe you'll understand where I'm coming from. Maybe you're going through real shit of your own and just need to hear that you're not alone. Here's the MADMAN's lesson to you; Work hard, on your own terms. Earn you own way. Own your mistakes. If people don't like it, fuck em. Fuck what they like. Fuck that they don't want to play with you, or they don't call you for gigs, or they don't return your calls or texts...that's the price you pay for walking your own path. Pissed that Herbie Hancock ain't calling you? Why? You can't leach off of his success? Make your own. Always walk your own path. I got ya back. Mad Man out.