One time this snake pit of a lady spit on me in a Manhattan subway station. Another time I got lucky and married a hopelessly wonderful girl in my hometown of Old Saybrook, CT. In a fever, I’ve been repeatedly trying to write my favorite song all my life. The only tattoo I have is my deceased dog’s name written in Old English across my shoulders. I cried and cried. I have no idea how, but I haven’t been arrested yet. The soundtracks to Homeward Bound and Jurassic Park changed my life. Then The Beatles did. Then Weezer did.
If you’re reading this, I imagine you’re trying to decide whether you give a shit about the music my friends and I have created. In the end, it’s up to you. But if you enjoy musical stories of naked insecurity and self-reflection/depreciation in the service of getting someone to crack a little smile, then I think I have half a chance. So, do I care? Yeah, I guess I do.
Perry Serpa – firstname.lastname@example.org
River Hooks – email@example.com