O-Drab

You're probably expecting some lame-ass bio about some awesome story of a group of lads who came together and jammed in the garage one night and instinctively knew they had what it took to make a billion dollars.

Some profile about how the "artist" grew up loving and being inspired by music. About how everything seems to come natural to them, and how maybe they are blessed by some deity... providing them musical talent enough to soar to the heavens of sound.

You probably expect to hear something along the lines about how bizarre they can be in their creations... and yet... "I dunno, the sound is just there, you know?"

Not me. You'll still get the "lame-ass bio," but instead it will focus on what you are listening to now, which you've already decided is garbage. I haven't released anything, I haven't worked with anyone... and I just don't care.

Born and raised in the middle of absolutely nowhere has landed me pretty much nowhere. Where is somewhere to you, anyways?

I grew up in several towns containing no more than 3,000 hermits.

Looking to make a mark other than a saddened, disgusting stain (for better or worse), my foray into the world of music has been lackluster and relentlessly skull crushing to date. I share everything I have in an attempt to discredit humanity and everything that has ever been done creatively. Is it terrible? Well that's your opinion.

Mozart? O-Drab? Basically shitting on everything that's ever been decent through corrupt and weak melodies combined with unusual and disturbingly unoriginal percussive sections.

I know when something seems to sound good inside of my head. It triggers somewhat of an internal smile - not a pleasant, eye catching wonder... but a clown-like, demented, freak-show of a smile, while everyone else an angry impatient frown. Combine these smiling elements behind a commercially acceptable 4/4 time signature and absolutely gruesome mixing/mastering and you have the beginning of the end of respectable "music," so to speak. May your ears become damaged due to my inability to figure out what the hell a compressor is.

But I don't care what you think. You ended up here (unfortunately and thankfully by accident... at least it was an accident, remember!!!). And as you mutter to yourself how horrible this shit is to listen to, just remember this:

Failure to express any meaning in life except through sounds created by mental terror renders a tortured existence... at least for me. Building within until the pressure cannot be sustained, I bled to death making this stuff - all to be ignored and to become a listless, dead, bloody heap in the corner ruining your view of that new television you just bought.

To hell with you.

And don't mistake genius for lack of talent.