As soon as I moved to New York I wanted a rock and roll band. And for my sins, as Martin Sheen says in Apocalypse Now, they gave me one. And then another, and another, till before I knew it I had accumulated a body of work and a lot of hard feelings. I keep writing and playing tunes. Why? Jerome Kern and Neil Young have the answers: Fish gotta swim, and birds gotta fly. I was born to rock, I'll never be an opera star.

Some of my tunes are stored here for your listening "pleasure." Click the red button for my complete discography.

 

 

 

SHAVED PIGS, 1986-1992

You Don't Want to Know. Now what was I doing in a hardcore band? Well, for starters, it was kind of a goofy hardcore band. The founder was fresh out of Columbia University. He played bass, and his best friend played guitar. Now they're both computer wizards and I'm putting this website together with PageMill. That proves something, but I don't know what. Hey, though, this is a good tune. And it wasn't the only good one we did, either.

REVERB MOTHERFUCKERS, 1986-1992

On The Cross. Some people have actually heard of us. We drank like fish and howled like monkeys. We were fun. We were angst-ridden. We were aimed at early graves. When I quit, it was to save my life. Lately I'm not so sure I made the right move.
No matter, the work survives. This tune was inspired by an artsy chick who told me about an installation she was planning: her naked and nailed to a cross. Why bother? I thought at the time. The way you're living, the way we're living, isn't that kind of redundant?

Man's Son. Okay, so I was one of those "lousy little poets... trying to sound like Charlie Manson" that Leonard Cohen bitched out. Only I wasn't singing about being Manson -- I was singing about being the bad man, the contemptible, the guilty. See, we were all living in the East Village. Our local park, Tompkins Square, was inhabited by feral bums; one of these, a guy named Rakowitz, had just famously cannibalized his girlfriend. Many of the folks we were running with seemed capable of that sort of thing. Not because they were satanic, but because they'd been crowded out of the mainstream and were thus made prey to the lure of darkness. Even in these cleaned-up times, there's a Manson everywhere you look. Sometimes he's in the mirror. What I know you'll never know.

ROSICRUCIANS, 1992-1993

My Turn to Bitch. The bass player from the Shaved Pigs and the drummer from the Shaved Pigs and the Reverb Motherfuckers joined me in this undeservedly obscure supergroup. The choruses of this tune are in 10/8. See, I can too play jazz.

LANCASTER COUNTY PRISON, 1992-1997

Go-Cup in the Pick-Up. My Mom likes country and western music. So do I. For my people, C&W's heartbreak, regret, and alcoholic misadventure come second nature. I helped start this punk country band, but couldn't finish it. JC and the boys have carried on with great success, God love them. Some of my songs got great readings in this band. This one is my favorite. Not just because BMI sent me $8.31 in royalties on it. Mainly because it has all the heartbreak, regret, and alcoholic misadventure, and also some laughs. And was played by players who got every bit of it.

ROY EDROSO, 1998-2001

Flight. Bandless and bitter in the late 90s, I started making music alone, by computer. This fragment was composed when I was facing another busted relationship, another move to another crummy little apartment, another chance to be free.

Bums in the Street. The homeless used to get a lot of attention. Then the Mayor made them all go away. They keep popping up, though, and with them our feelings of guilt, disgust, and pity. The subject needed a tune -- one blown free of cant by maximum R'N'R. Clearly I was the man for the job.

Cool Enough. I have written very few love songs. Revenge and guilt: that was Elvis Costello's formula, and it suited me fine. Well, Elvis went soft, and so did I, a few years ago. Writers are human too, y'know. Now the girl is gone. Of course. But this song was worth a little heartache.

Destination Nowhere. I understand there's a song out there called "Destination Anywhere." Leave it to me to find the less commercial angle. This is about being crapped out and tapped out and realizing that, now, there's nothing to lose. In other words, a song for our times.