I was born in Lakeville, a small town in southeastern Massachusetts. My dad was, and is, a barber with a shop in town. My mom stayed at home and raised me and my two older brothers.
Lakeville was a beautiful place but there wasn't much to do.
I was raised a Catholic and went to church with my family every Sunday. I believed that heaven was a place above us and hell was down below. God saw everything and so it was best to behave. God could read your thoughts. But a thought wasn't a sin and didn't count so the world inside your mind was the best place to live.
I played in the woods behind my house. Behind the woods was a field and behind that a fairground called "The Golden Spur Racetrack." In the summer there were stock car races but I wasn't allowed to go. You could hear the engines of the hot rods through the trees.
Every summer my cousins came to the country from New York. The older one introduced me to The Beatles, Stones and a bunch of other stuff. I realized I was a "small town hick" and needed to go to the city to be somebody.
When I was 17, I left Lakeville for NYC and a college named Barnard. I had bought a guitar the year before but I hadn't written any songs. I was an English major. New York scared the hell out of me. Sometimes I'd be so anxious I'd throw up. I liked Flannery O'Connor, Anton Chekhov, James Joyce.
When I was 19 I hurt my back (2 herniated discs) and to my great relief I was returned to Lakeville for an indefinite period of time. I lay in bed for 2 months and started writing songs on the guitar I bought, learning chords from a How-To-Play Guitar Book. My friends in Jamaica Plain (near Boston) got me to play out at a bar. They kept making me do it and I liked it.
When I went back to New York I felt I had a purpose. I finished school and moved to Chinatown where I lived on Mott & Hester for 4 years
I wrote songs and played out at clubs like Sin-e', CBGB's Gallery and Fez under Time Cafe'. I started writing songs on the mandolin and a baritone ukulele. I liked the way they sounded with my voice. They inspired different kinds of songs than a guitar.
I came to L.A. for the 1st time in 1997 to play a show. I was seduced by the place and moved a few months later.
The process of recording a record is hard to explain: The best and the worst things you've ever heard come out of you are recorded and played back ad infinitum. Finally you come to your senses and realize you must finish and move on with your life. You hope people will not mock you for your efforts, but realize if they do you can probably hone in on their weaknesses and retaliate one day when they least expect it.
Source: http://www.hollywoodandvine.com
