Jeff "Munnch" Munn
MunnchBands
Website
From the FFTN web site:
MUNNCH'S BIO:
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 ended in the same place: Taylor Robinson. He was a youth group buddy of mine who had run into a skinny little fuck named Dickey. Dickey sang and played guitar. I hated that bitch, but he needed a drummer and I needed a band, and so it was.
And here we all are 7 years later, the best of friends. Plus, with the recent addition of Brent to the band, I couldn't be happier, unless I was dating Selma Hayek or Carrie Grisham.
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 ended in the same place: Taylor Robinson. He was a youth group buddy of mine who had run into a skinny little fuck named Dickey. Dickey sang and played guitar. I hated that bitch, but he needed a drummer and I needed a band, and so it was.
And here we all are 7 years later, the best of friends. Plus, with the recent addition of Brent to the band, I couldn't be happier, unless I was dating Selma Hayek or Carrie Grisham.
