Bald Lucy
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About
From his myspace page:I discovered my passion for music at an early age. My mother would sing to me late at night, so every night I would fall asleep thinking, "Music has GOT to be better than this!"
By the age of 12, I had started rewriting hit songs for fun. "Black or White" by Michael Jackson became a song about Davey Crockett and the Alamo, and Sir Mix-a-lot's "Baby Got Back" became "Baby Got Breath," a tribute to the rancid disgustingness that festered inside the mouth of my 8th grade history teacher.
10th grade found the true beginning of my "musical career". They called me Munny and he was Sammy G, and together we were two not-so-poor suburban white kids known as the feel-good gangsta rap group "Cue Ball" (Bustanut Records). With emotionally poignant lyrics like "I blast past yo ass fast so don't provoke / 'cause my past has the mass of the grass I smoke," we had easily made a name for ourselves by second semester, but we needed original beats.
One day my little sister, Kim, sat me down on her drumset and explained about kick drums, hi-hats and cymbals, but I still didn't get it. My drummer friend Tim gave me some CDs to borrow: Nirvana, Green Day, Smashing Pumpkins, No Doubt, Bush. He said just to play along.
By 12th grade I realized that rap wasn't musical enough for me. I needed distorted guitars and vocal harmonies to tickle my nutsack. So a search for a band began and I learned how many people suck at music! I mean, really! Luckily I met some dudes and we started a band called Fallen From The Nest. And drum I did. All the time. On everything. Everywhere.
Anyway, one day those guys got tired of me banging on stuff all the time and decided to teach me how to play guitar because, after all, sometimes it takes more than drums to say things like "I like vaginas" ya know? So here I am now and here you are and now we can all get naked and have a good time!
By the age of 12, I had started rewriting hit songs for fun. "Black or White" by Michael Jackson became a song about Davey Crockett and the Alamo, and Sir Mix-a-lot's "Baby Got Back" became "Baby Got Breath," a tribute to the rancid disgustingness that festered inside the mouth of my 8th grade history teacher.
10th grade found the true beginning of my "musical career". They called me Munny and he was Sammy G, and together we were two not-so-poor suburban white kids known as the feel-good gangsta rap group "Cue Ball" (Bustanut Records). With emotionally poignant lyrics like "I blast past yo ass fast so don't provoke / 'cause my past has the mass of the grass I smoke," we had easily made a name for ourselves by second semester, but we needed original beats.
One day my little sister, Kim, sat me down on her drumset and explained about kick drums, hi-hats and cymbals, but I still didn't get it. My drummer friend Tim gave me some CDs to borrow: Nirvana, Green Day, Smashing Pumpkins, No Doubt, Bush. He said just to play along.
By 12th grade I realized that rap wasn't musical enough for me. I needed distorted guitars and vocal harmonies to tickle my nutsack. So a search for a band began and I learned how many people suck at music! I mean, really! Luckily I met some dudes and we started a band called Fallen From The Nest. And drum I did. All the time. On everything. Everywhere.
Anyway, one day those guys got tired of me banging on stuff all the time and decided to teach me how to play guitar because, after all, sometimes it takes more than drums to say things like "I like vaginas" ya know? So here I am now and here you are and now we can all get naked and have a good time!
