4.

“Two Years and Thirty Minutes” record release – PACE – Easthampton, MA – July, 2004

This is the most recent of my favorite 5 shows. Happening in July of 2004. Many of you who read this were there so I welcome any and all input in case there’s something that I missed.

I worked so damn hard at promoting this show. The hardest that I’ve ever worked at it, actually. I usually fall asleep at the wheel when it comes to promoting. Specifically, when it has to do with just me. But this wasn’t just about me. So many people were involved. It all started somewhere back in the fall of 2001. I had recently stopped playing in my last band (Hospital) and I began recording tracks here and there with one of my oldest (and closest) friends, Karl Ourand (Bloodbath, Pushbutton Warfare). After 6 years of being in Hospital I decided that I wanted to record as much as possible by myself. I was sick of being dictatorial. Most things never ended up sounding like what I wanted them too when I told other band mates what I wanted. I most certainly resented this sometimes. Acted like a child. Berated friends. It’s not their fault though, it’s mine. Being humble, I guess I just had a hard time telling someone what to do without feeling like some huge, egomaniacal prick. So I let people off the hook. Oh, that’s good enough I would think. I wanted to stop that. I wanted to make a record like the one that I’ve heard in my head for years. And this time, there would be no one to blame but me.

April of 2002 is when I quit drinking. I had a problem. A big fucking problem. It’s safe to say that I consumed 7-10 beers and 3-4 glasses of whiskey a day. Seven days a week. I only weigh 165 pounds (at the time 185) at 6’3”. Yes, I was killing myself. I called Kevin O’Rourke in tears, at 2 in the morning, yelling It’s got me and I can’t fucking get out. I talked with Matt Hebert about it. Telling him how scared I was. He told me that if I quit he would too. Out of complete camaraderie. I told him that I knew I was going to die if I didn’t . He could tell that I meant it. I got a lengthy email from Jose Ayerve that basically said that I needed to get myself together. It was very caring but also very demonstrative. I was embarrassing myself everywhere. JJ O’Connell repeatedly pulled me aside and through a broad range of concern and anger told me that I needed to change. Soon. It made him sick, what I was doing. He had a history of alcohol in his life. It really hit him hard. I remember pulling into some package store in West Springfield, MA on the way home from Bradley Airport so I could buy 4 nips of vodka to chug because I was convinced I was dying. It was 10:45 AM. I was borrowing money to pay electric bills because I drank all my money. I was beyond irresponsible and completely untrustworthy. If I promised someone I would be somewhere it was almost guaranteed that I wouldn’t. I would cancel gigs just so I could indulge. I stopped drinking the day after I refused to get on a plane because I was so scared, and partially sober (which made it worse). I ruined plans for my then girlfriend and I to go on vacation to San Antonio. We were going there because she bought me tickets to go see two Spurs games. I’m a big Spurs fan. Yes, she did it all for me and I ruined it. I couldn’t deal with myself anymore. I knew that if I kept drinking I would roughly have a half of a year left before I died. I was physically ruined. Let alone emotionally and mentally.

I didn’t use AA or any other sort of recovery group. I put the bottle down and never picked it up again. For the first 2 or 3 weeks I went through horrible DT’s. Sleeping an hour a night because my body was convulsing. I was still convinced that I was going to die. I was having irregular heartbeats and vertigo issues. I roughed it out. I haven’t had a drink since. It started a domino effect of changes. I left a 5 year relationship. Moved out of where I had lived for 6 years. Met Jen and fell in love. Opened a record store with her. Adopted a dog. Bartended (of all things) 3 or 4 nights a week for a summer or so. During all that time I was traveling all over the place with Lo Fine and Spouse. I was also recording my own songs, with a few friends, at Karl’s, Slaughterhouse and at Bruce Tull’s house. When I finally finished my first record it felt like it was someone else’s. It meant more than anything I had ever created before. I still think it’s flawed and a little scattered but there’s some genuine discovery on it. I finally realized what I could do if I wasn’t inhibited or polluted. I feel that it is important to air all of this out. This was the reason that when asked how I felt about the record release show I responded with a I can’t get my head around it. It means more than anyone knows. Well, maybe now (for the first time) I can really let you all know why.

The show itself was completely transcendent. My dear friends The Malarkies came up from NYC to open the night. They are one of my favorite bands of all time. Truly. In the top 10. Maybe 5. I remember pacing around during the afternoon of the show. I had hung up all the great posters that Max designed for me. I did a whole bunch of internet promotion and word spreading. Jen helped me so much. She covered my ass while I ran around thinking about nothing but this one night. I still felt like no one was going to be there. Not out of some attack of humble, but based on all of the bridges I had burned and the way I had treated people during my wasted days.

I walked outside of PACE about 5 minutes before The Malarkies started. There were probably 30 or so people inside. Outside, however, there were at least 50 something. Including old friends and people that I didn’t even recognize. Turns out the show sold out. 120 something people. All listening. All night. Matt Cullen, Paul Kochanski, Jose Ayerve, Kevin O’Rourke, JJ O’Connell, Philip Price and Flora Reed played every note of my record with flawless precision. I felt lifted. When I reflect on that night I find it hard not to think of Jose, Kevin and JJ. Three friends that helped me through so much. JJ, for instance, is like a brother to me. We yelled at each other. Got pissed. Wanted to punch the other in the face. But when it all came down either of us would take a bat to the head of anyone who crossed the other. I credit him with having a huge roll in saving my life. I’ll never forget that night. I heard a lot of people refer to it as being “magical”. I think I shied away from that for awhile out of embarrassment. But, you know? They were right. It was.