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It didn't take me long to figure out my
calling in life; the first time I was ever on the stage , in Fourth
Grade. Playing Mona, introducing the Yule Log in the Tuscan Elementary
School's Holiday pageant, "Customs of Many Countries," I knew I was
home. Otherwise, I've never been a slave to conventions. The
early 1970's found me barely out of my teens, in New York's Greenwich
Village on the corner of 8th and MacDougal Streets, singing selections
from ,"Jacques Brel is Alive and Well and Living in Paris" with the
artist John O'Connell. We earned just enough to be able to go down the
block afterwards for hamburgers at Shakespeare's. Not exactly Rock n'
Roll Heaven, but we had a blast. All this when we weren't singing for
our supper between waiting tables in New Jersey gay bars.
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I soon found my place in a circle of
reprobates and scoundrels - the usual suspects - I mean musicians, of
course. Among them, I met and married guitarist Tony Nowak and together
formed Shotgun Wedding, an offbeat amalgam of folk,
rock, blues and swing. Along with an assortment of fabulous drummers,
bass players, fiddle players and lap-steel players, Shotgun
Wedding toured throughout the 1980's, playing bars, hotels and
conventions up and down the East Coast and, of course, every Cowboy Bar
in New York City, including City Limits, Annie Oakley's and O'Lunney's.
We even opened for Jay and the Americans at a benefit concert; a story
unto itself.
As the fire of the 'Urban Cowboy' movement died away, we picked up
talented guitarist/keyboard/vocalist David Soto, to grace the world of
glitter
and glam rock with a new group, Screamin' Mimi. We
packed bars and partied for quite a while, becoming a local phenomenon
of the Staten Island club scene, If I do say so myself. We gained
further notoriety as a "Hot" band after the infamous fire at
Stapleton's Harbor Lights where we overloaded the circuits, literally
lighting up the place.
After a while, though, we pared down the five pieces to a trio,
renaming ourselves Rock 'N' Reel. But the hectic
lifestyle was taking its toll, so Tony and I decided to take a more
urbane, understated turn as the duo Mr. & Mrs.
Although I got the chance to explore the American Songbook and my
keyboard chops, I missed the fire of an audience that was there to hear
me sing. Disappointed and disheartened in more ways than one, I sadly
wound up ending both my association with music and with my long-time
music partner.
But the call of the stage was a persistent one. And, slowly, my own
style began to emerge. A few years ago, as a joke, I was hounded
by friends into singing with Nasty Ned and his band, The New Dogs at
the now-defunct Bull in Piscataway. Hearing the rousing applause of
a surprised audience after I left the stage, I knew I was back. In open
jams throughout Northern and Central New Jersey, I rediscovered my love
of rock and blues. No longer limited by the musical fad of the day, I
was free to do whatever song felt right - songs that reflected pieces
of my life; where I've been and where I'm going.
Before long I found other musicians who felt the same way.
It also didn't take long for audiences to appreciate what I was trying
to do. I'm humbled by the notion that I now have some dedicated fans
who make it a point to change their schedules to come out and support
me whenever I'm singing somewhere.
Reviewing and reflecting on this bio for my new website, I realize I've
come a long way. But there's still lots more to come. I'm really
excited about my latest project, a limited-release EP in progress over
at Big Moose Music's Studio 12. Together with a bunch of good friends,
old and new, I'm finally making the kind of music that I was meant to
do, and that I hope you will really enjoy hearing.
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