I’m a drummer, a bass player, a guitarist, a singer.

I started out my musical life in 1978 when I was seven and my parents got me my first drum set. At the time, I treated them like a big noisy toy. My sister and I used to line up our stuffed animals and then we’d put on mock concerts while Beatles albums played in the background. The shows always ended with us getting mauled by our adoring “fans”. When I was eight I auditioned for the Cambridge Kiwanis Boys Choir and ended up getting to sing on two recordings and tour each year in places all across Ontario and Quebec, with bigger trips to Washington D.C. and finally Europe in 1983. I enjoyed the music and the camaraderie, and getting to travel to places I wouldn’t normally get to was awesome. Despite being in the choir, around the age of ten, my mom put me in drum lessons. I’m not sure who’s idea it was… but I suspect it was hers. Probably got tired of hearing me massacre the sound barrier with my “toys”. My first teacher taught me how to read basic drum notation, some basic beats and rudiments and a concept of what drum set playing was all about. I still have the lesson sheets he made out for me.
Just before going to high school… I decided to quit the choir. After a brief fling with the 80’s pop of Duran Duran, I was starting to really love the hard rock of Judas Priest, Iron Maiden and Quiet Riot. Bands like Def Leppard, Zeppelin and Motley Crue was what every 12 and 13 year old seemed to be listening to, and this was something the choir seemed to shun. I was also questioning my feelings about religion, and didn’t know if I wanted to be a part of a group that referred to “secular” music as inferior. I recall that the choirmaster at the time was pretty choked about me leaving. I’m not actually sure why, and I suppose I could be flattered, but the truth of the matter is, while I loved singing, it was time for me to move on. Plus, as adolescent and homophobic as it was… I didn’t want the high school kids thinking I was some gay choirboy. Hey… I’m honest… and I was 13. Gimme a beak.
I started focusing on the drums.

Around the time I was first taking drum lessons I used to try and brag to other kids that I could play any Bee Gees song. That in itself is pretty damn funny, and you know, I probably could and didn’t know it. I’m partially amazed and partially embarrassed that the little ego wanted to be a drummer so bad it was ready to say anything to make it a reality.

When I was in grade nine, a couple of older kids asked me if I could play Iron Maiden and Metallica songs, among other things. Fred Cobb was their bass player, and he went on to tell me that we would be gigging around town, and thrashing out on originals shortly. Fred looked the part. He had the heavy metal mullet, he knew how to play the tunes that I was drawn to. I was totally stoked, ready to begin my heavy metal lifestyle and rock out, except for one thing… I couldn’t play any of that stuff. So I did what any oblivious but excited kid would do… I lied. I worked my ass off learning the tunes, stalling on our first jam until I could play that stuff. The word got out though, and I was too late. They went with another kid. Thing is… they got me started. Now that I had learned some tunes, I wanted to play them with anyone!!

I first starting jamming with some kids on any riff they knew. We’d jam on the riff until we got tired or bored…and would then launch into another riff. Even back then I was obsessed with recording what we were doing. I would use my ghetto blaster which had a little on board condenser and make crappy cassette recordings which we would excitedly listen to as we fantasized about record deals and videos and tours and interviews… and…and…

Soon a nucleus started to jam more and more regularly, comprised of Nick Bastien on guitar, Rob Cosh on vocals and rhythm guitar and John White on the bass. We learned songs by U2, the Cure, the Northern Pikes, Beatles, Bryan Adams, and The Cult among others. Our first gig was at St. Luke’s United Church. We were a hilariously pretentious lot. I believe we had a synth intro holding long, eerie string pads while we would ceremoniously walk out and then launch into our eight songs. After the first few songs, my bass drum beater snapped in two. I was devastated. I remember that Mike had come to hear us play… and he told me to go out and keep playing… they wanted to mosh!

At a church… so we went back on and I pounded on my floor tom for a bass drum. I still have the sticks from that first gig. I still got the itch to play too!

We chose the very 80’s name “The Still”. I’m sure we thought it embodied “a quiet, introspective calm”, although anyone in there right mind is going to think of some tasty hooch. This incarnation of the band lasted for about a year, but with each member hanging out with a different crowd, and having very different tastes in music it wasn’t long before things started getting… very band like.

Probably the best moment of this band came when we decided (at my insistence!) to “practice” up in the garage… with the doors open… and only the drums in the garage. Hey… we were eager to gig… and if we couldn’t find one… we’d make one! The highlight of that moment wasn’t the compliments from the neighbours… or the few local kids who sat on the lawn and listened. No… it was when John decided to swing his bass around his body on the strap. Now, we’d all seen this trick done before in MuchMusic videos… but I don’t think John realized that these players used bolt-on straps to pull it off. It was amazing to see… his black bass, twirling from shoulder to belly… once…twice…and then it was off! The bass sky-rocketed upwards about 15 feet, and came crashing down upon the pavement. John claimed he knew it was going to happen, and because the bass was given to him by his now ex-girlfriend he actually had intended for it to happen. Personally, i admire his attempt to recover from the embarrassment…but a good old fashioned “screw it…it’s rock and roll” would have sufficed.

That band went on to play shows at our high school before John resigned over creative differences…

with a letter…

that was sealed with wax.

We all knew something was coming, and Rob had already started writing with a friend of his, and he played bass. His name was Jeff Chard, and not only could he play… he could sing. Back to Front was beginning to form…