My sordid past as drummer/lead singer of a punk/metal/alternative band called Triage (1994), then called Panacea, then Downside (1995)…. then, I was just the drummer of a rap/funk/metal band called Down Inside (1996-2000).
Old videos coming soon…. there are a shit-ton of ’em….
BIO / BACKGROUND
I, like all musicians, started a band with my friends from high school. It was great. We did our thing throughout the second half of the 90s. We got decently popular in southwest Florida / Fort Myers, FL. Then we released our CD, and a few months later, we decided to move to California, because my bass player’s parents moved there and said there were a lot of opportunities for us, if we considered moving there. So, we went. I had never visited California… but just decided to move there, with the band (who also never visited, there).
Shortly after we moved there, one of our rappers quit and moved back to Florida. So we continued with some member changes. Played a few shows in the Los Angeles area.
I was miserable and broke the entire time, in California. I busted my ass trying to land a steady job, too. California sucked, for me. The only bright side is, I got a book out of it (“56 Weeks In Hell”, which is included in my upcoming book, Writings: Volume 3). I lived with the band in a tiny 2-bedroom apartment (literally 5 and then 6 of us in a 2-bedroom apartment), an hour and a half outside of Los Angeles, and I couldn’t even afford a friggin’ $175 rent share… that’s how fucking broke I was. I started getting a lot of shit from my bandmates (which had been building for several years prior), and the respect that I had very little of throughout the first five years of the band turned into no respect at all, in California. I had been filled with anxiety the entire time I was in the band (for a lot of reasons… but again, mostly the way they treated me, which wasn’t really respectful)… and I was a fucking mess.
I finally had the guts to quit the band about 10 months later. While I believed in the music, I was tired of having no respect from these guys. They called me a fag for listening to Sarah McLachlan and Juliana Hatfield, regularly. They called me a fag for loving movies like She’s All That and 10 Things I Hate About You. They told me to “shut up and stop whining” when I brought up things that hurt my feelings/bothered me, or messed with my head. Anything that I needed to vent about was often shut down. I felt like I couldn’t fucking talk to anyone about anything. The whole situation made me feel like a piece of shit. And eventually, I said “fuck this shit. I don’t need this shit anymore.”
I’m sure the other band members have a different side of the story if they were to be asked about that time, but my journals tell the real truth and always have. Sometime in the near future, I’ll be putting out a couple books of my journals (with names changed, of course). 20 years of journals and diaries. I’d bet there are some damn good stories in there…….
Today, my former bandmate is extremely successful, musically. He’s married to a gorgeous woman. I’m not jealous. I’ve always felt I was out of place, and out of sync… I was the weirdo, everywhere I went. Most girls didn’t want to get to know me. They hit on him all the time, though, and he was considered a player by anyone who paid enough attention to see that. Time changes people, I know. But I kept it real since day one. I told people exactly what I was feeling. I didn’t lie to anyone. My intensity and honesty was off-putting. Isn’t that ridiculous? Honesty put people off. That’s insane, to even think about. But yeah. I was the weirdo. But it’s ok. I always felt like I was crashing the big party, my entire life. I’ve always marched to the beat of my own drum, and forever will. I’m grateful for the times, memories and experience I had with that band. But I’m glad I left when I did.
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