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Arizona, United States

Alternative Folk / Alternative

Listen to Oaks
My first memory of music was when I was three. I remember listening to records of my Grandpa Van Holyoak. He was one of the great Arizona poets and songwriters during a time when Arizona wasn't much more than a giant ranch. He died two years before I was born, and i know that's what intrigued me. I never knew him, I only knew his poems and music. I only had that one connection with a man I felt I had more of a connection to than anyone I had ever known. That's when it began.
I never knew what it meant to be a cowboy or a ranch man I merely knew the soul of a man who did. It's always been natural, it's always been there. That's why I'm here today.

It's seems like yesterday that Michael Jacksons Thriller came out and played over and over in my head. Before you could understand what was happening you were singing along. It didn't matter who you were you knew Michael Jackson. By the time I had discovered R.E.M. it was too late for me, I had begun listening to Rock n' Roll. From Silverchair, to Pearl Jam, mixed together like a powerful cocktail of Garth Brooks, and Gary Allen, there was a quiver. Man I remember the first time I heard New York, New York, by Ryan Adams and felt cheated like I had missed my ship and lost my course. There was a danger that all too much of who I was was already out there.

It wasn't too late...I remember the first real Gig Mike and I played. The Big Fish Pub in Tempe. Talk about a hole, but you have to start somewhere. The smell of prescription pills and booze in the air, and a sense of uncertainty. As we stepped up on stage only to notice that it had just as unsure of a foundation as we did. It didn't matter if you fall through the stage on your first show it rocks right? The second the drums started the floor began to shake and the room began to spin. It was only 112 degrees outside that hot summer day in Arizona, but it didn't matter. Sweat was dripping, people screaming, and guitars swinging. Then the feeling of coming off stage, that's confidence, a room full of people who have never heard you before, cheering. That's when I knew it was real.

This was 2 weeks after Mike and I met. He had a feel about his drumming like a knife cutting through flesh. Pure, raw, and powerful. From there we began to compose we began to forge, and we continue to steadily build our way to the top.
We must succeed, for if we fail music fails, and if music fails the world will cease.

You say you wanna be a rock star, well you can't act like one to be one, you have to work until your hands bleed and your throat swells. There is no reason to fail but that lack of work, and there is no reason not to work for a dream.
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