One of the earliest pictures taken of me was holding my mom’s hairbrush pretending to play the guitar.
I was probably about two years old. I grew up in a house filled with music. My father was somewhat of
an audiophile. I have very vivid memories of watching my father create the “mix tapes” of the day—transferring
classic vinyl LPs and 45s to his Akai “Quadraphonic” reel-to-reel recorder. There is something to be said for
the acoustic warmth of those analog amps and players. I started playing wind instruments—tenor sax, flute,
clarinet—when I was in grade school. I picked up guitar along the way and studied with a few people. I played
drums, bass, guitar, or sax in various bands in my late teens, but bass sort of “stuck”. I suppose playing bass
sort of feels like home. The first band I was in that actually got paid to play was named Voice of Reason.
I also played bass and sang in Made in Japan for the better part of a decade. After taking a few years off,
the Gashouse Gorillaz found me. Here I am, still changing the words to songs and forgetting my bass parts.
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