Bio - The Story

So, it was inevitable that we would begin this project, the writer and the browser. One's (bio) was not part of one's musical education at the beginning of this "story". So, where does one begin? Was it in the doctor's office? At about four or five years old. In a more fashionable section of the Bronx, New York City, a largish rectangular waiting room lined with wooden benches, probably designed in the 1930's out of hardwood. It was crowded in the late afternoon, swinging my feet over the edge of the rail-like bench. I began to hum and sing a tune, almost absently, about an owl in a tree. It was late at night, clouds going by, etc. etc. I'm sure it was boredom, the close atmosphere of the now dying 1940's.

Social climbing resulted in concert piano lessons for sister Letitia and I. I was six, and she was four. Many things can be said about this second exposure to public entertainment. Classical music doesn't even like to admit it's all that public, but at the age of six the recital is just a training ground for the young performer to overcome his or her initial terror of the musical audience. Especially, if they're very well dressed and think they're important. So, is this where it begins? [picture of Letitia and I at age 4 and 2 approximately is available. If enough e-mail requests arrive, we'll put the snapshot somewhere around here for people to look at, OK?] Here, I also mention one Evelyn Austen, minister of music, Asbury Methodist Church, Crestwood, New York, for her devoted patience with this somewhat troubled student. She gave me tools I will always need, and I wish she could feel this joy now. She passed away while I was at university.

We could go on to the next point of emergence, a high school pop-rock combo called "The Furies", maybe it was spelled "The Fury's", who remembers; it's in my high school yearbook. People liked it; members of it moved on; other's didn't; who was well known then disappeared. The one's with personality problems seemed to have persevered. Best example being, the kid from the wrong side of the acquaduct back in Yonkers, one Steven Tallarico, now Steven Tyler, lead vocalist of the renowned rock and roll group, Aerosmith. It needs to be mentioned here that the Furies was a "pickup band". He worked with his father's musical groups, a variety of combinations of people, and also kept four different bands all over Yonkers that he played with incidentally all over town to keep himself busy. A talented man in demand! The Furies bass player, Al Strohmayer, stayed with Steven in a band called the Strangers, the last band before Aerosmith. There really isn't and reason for Steven to remember us. There were so many people in his life already. If anyone's interested, let me know.

Strange But Drew begins the bio , or anti-bio, as it were. With his brief stint in the "borscht belt" with the ever flamboyant Scotty Parker Trio. He had flashing electric light bulbs in his bass drum. Need I say more? I also had the dubious honor of backing up one Georgy Jessel on the downstairs stage of the Saxony Hotel in Liberty, New York, in the summer of 1968. He was an early and oh, so sad example of the price of alcohol abuse to one's reputation as a perfomer. As a pretty bad piano player, I at least offered him the brief pleasure of having someone to yell at. His example did not save me from my own later embarassment, but I owe my respects to him. So, after this illuminating interlude I went to the Hawaiian Islands, Oahu to be exact, and began my academic career at the University of Hawaii. I was to become a marine biologist. It was 1964. By 1966, bored with the "standards" for the international students on campus, simple console piano stuff, I began to frequent the Freeway coffee house. The flamboyance of my aunt Marie and the political/intellectual atmosphere of my pseudo-left wing dad, led me directly to the anti-Viet Nam War movement. Here, in the cauldron of the emerging late sixties came the boogie-woogie blues piano of one Rusty Cades, from a wealthy local haole family with a big house on the pali on your way to Kaneohe. He came to this quasi-beatnik atmosphere to bang on an old upright. Some of the greatest stuff you ever heard! He was in his early twenties at best, awkward, self conscious, always asking me if it sounded OK. I began to play harmonica with him; he asked me to. To this day I don't know why. I began to extemporaneously compose blues poems to his music. All I'd ever heard of this music form was some stuff by a guy named Witherspoon, I don't remember his first name too well. Listened to his records in the apartment of a nuclear sub vet and his pretty wife, smoking my first joints of pot. So Rusty liked the songs and a duet was born. Pretty soon, a high school senior named Tom Conger came to play the bass. He knew Rusty. I got the idea these guys didn't play this music at home. I already affected the appearance of the runaway, so I somewhat fulfilled a renegade fantasy. The wild-eyed LSD electric guitar companion, Vic Burke, an Air Force officer's son with a proclivity for stretching envelopes of his own, rounded out the emerging quartet. From 1966 to 1968 one of the only high volume large venue "Rock" bands with original material on Oahu. The last known name for this group was "The Brown Paper Bag", given to it as were its many other names, by its kind, hardworking manager, an older African-American man who managed the Freeway coffee house just across the road from the Manoa campus of U.H. Actually, It might have been called the Off Center coffee house; hard to recall. Can't remember his name, like so many beautiful people in a life full of beautiful people. Anyhow, I blush . This has to be the beginning because these people were a real talent. I have to honor them with this memory. I hope they're well. I would love to hear from anyone who remembers anything about this time in Honolulu. My stage name was Twig, I weighed less than 100 pounds and was very loud.

So much happened between 1968 and 1991 when Drew Anthony first emerged upon the scene in San Francisco that a book will be written! However, that might not have much to do with what the music industry calls a bio. Here, I will mention one Lou Gottlieb and stop for now.

Lou Gottlieb, and the spiritually oriented extended family surrounding Ciranjiva Roy, were to be instrumental engines of the next 20 years of my life. Within this time period came Constance Ray Dayton, my one and only wife, now divorced, and our son, Leo and daughter, Anastasia. No one ever fully describes the significance of these relationships; they mold us, and make us who we become. During this period I attended sparse , open mikes around town and attempted a few musical efforts with other people. I can recall playing the upright piano with "Fast Jim" on the harmonica at the "Ribbltad Vorden" in Bernal Heights way back in 1970. Also played the "Full Moon Saloon" before it was a comedy club, circa 1971 or '72. It was the Full Moon Saloon, I believe, that began the tradition of expecting the artists to perform to a sheet-rock wall, some 6 feet directly in front of them. And, yes, of course, not too far away from the bathroom facilities. I was known as a musical person, but in reality was only doing the best I could at father and husband and working guy. Around the experience of my family group I wrote about 60 songs. I probably never would have written anything down except for the inspiration of one Merril Meyers who went by the stage name Anonymous Bliss. After meeting us he became Unanimous Bliss. He was the principal troubador of our family group.

He gave me the feeling that writing my songs down wouldn't be such a bad idea. One of our group, Bob Chirpin, ran a Sunday morning radio show on KPOO FM San Francisco. It was a real treat to visit the show and sing a couple of times. I was grateful for that. One of the songs, entitled "In a Patio", was picked up by the L.A. based rock group "Redbone" through a female singer friend of my ex-wife, Kelly Bohanon. Nothing became of it, but it was a thrill to think that a song of mine was considered. I even signed a composer's contract with "Redbone"; I gave them use of the song for a dollar. Something about the music kept me close to it. I kept practicing an act I never knew as a public experience. During the recession of the early nineteen-eighties, wife, kids and I transfered to Atlanta for purposes of work. I found work, house, divorce and a return to California by 1986. By 1989, Drew Anthony was concocted by "Magick", powerful poetess and then co-producer for "Aiwass" records. Magick, and her then production partner, premiere bassist Jeffrey Normal, produced a 45 rpm vinyl , a-side "Mad race to nowhere", b-side, "the Last Stranger". Lou liked it; I didn't. The vocals were way weak. I heard it on KUSF radio..that was cool. There was little promotion. I didn't feel so bad about that. It may have been the best I could do, at the moment, but I knew it wasn't the best I was capable of. Maybe, I'll always be a little like that about wherever I am. Thanks , here, to a guy named Joe Berretta for some great guitar work on that effort. Pretty soon, 1991 would arrive and things would pick up again.

1991 was operation Desert Storm if I'm correct. This event did not sit well with me. A friend of mine named Vince Daluiso of the local eighties band "Too Much Fun", now working with "The Moonbeams" in San Francisco, told me of the "Cease Fire" concert series being generated in Golden Gate park to protest the exploit . It would be one of the last free-lance concert series productions in the park. After pacing the halls of my Mission-Potrero flat for a week, bound and determined, I took off with my Martin for Golden Gate Park to get up and do my part. I don't know how to describe what was going on; a voice inside of me, something that couldn't be stopped, who knows? I wandered around in what was loosely described as "backstage" at a temporary bandstand facing the now earthquake damaged bandshell in between Steinhart Acquarium and the de Young Art Museum. It must have felt right. Everybody was directing me to one Michael Livermore, an assistant stage manager for the show. He put me on in between two of the bands and backed me up on a set of baby Congas. He just liked me. There was no other reason for it. No schmooze, no drugs, no crap. I told him I had to play and there I was. In front of some 700 people I did a simple tune ("Gesture of Time") . Majick was in the audience as well as other old time associates. It was a thrill, to be sure. This opportunity would befall me twice more. On the third concert weekend "Dagga Cult" would emerge.

Out in the audience, chatting with a schoolteacher named Barbara, I noticed Michael Livermore getting ready at a set of traps, stage central. Soon setting up with him, James E. Campbell on bass, Kendai on congas; she would also dance up front later on in the set in her hula skirt. Doug Hertz was up front to begin on lead guitar and vocals. They were called "Dagga Cult". The interesting part of all this was the sudden physical collapse of Doug Hertz halfway through the set. As a couple of stage hands removed the prostrate singer from the stage, James Campbell lead up a high vocal bass solo that Michael took off on. Kendai proceeded forward and began to dance. The audience loved it. They took it all in. I was impressed by some quick thinking on the part of Mr. Campbell. So much so, that I proceeded backstage to tell him so. He was a terrific guy; I knew it right away. Before he roared off to "work a wedding" as he put it, in his beat up white Volvo, it was decided we would collaborate. We would begin rehearsing for a set at the Firehouse across the street from the Albion on 16^th St. between Valencia and Guerrero. With the oncoming band came the fading away of previous solo efforts at the Albion as well as the Owl and Monkey, Mad Dog in the Fog, and so many other obscure rooms and open mikes. I was to meet people like Bone Coots, Jeff and Jim, the original box set duet, Kellam Grey, host of the Albion, and the lovely Katy Dodd, and from the Owl and Monkey, Mario DeSio; only in passing but later to become a great colleague. Also, the tremendous opportunity to be introduced to Roger Segal, an old friend of mentor Lou Gottlieb through James Campbell, who had known Roger for many years. There were so many others. Pat Nugent, hostess of the Owl and Monkey for so many years, would have to sit and remind me. She works with her sisters now, in an act called "Sisters in Crime".

At the Firehouse, the duet revealed the need to be a trio. And so, the search began. There was Robert DeNatola on drums for a little while. He needed to make more money. Hell, he needed to make any kind of money. I could feel for him. Then we found Eric Laurant Curiali for the drums. He stayed with us for a year and a half. During this time we found Matt Seiple to play the lead guitar. We were real lucky to do this. It's tough to find the final links to the formula. We got some help on guitar from one Geo Howard of Cotati, California, but the geography was too hard for him. Similarly, Eric's home address on the Sacramento river delta; Bethel

Island, way north-east of San Francisco, made the continuous effort hard for him as well. Eventually, Michael Livermore and Kendai returned to the mix. I had worked with Michael on a side effort for Food Not Bombs. It was a show on Army St. We put together a "concept band" named Return of a Fury just for that one show. It was a nominal success. Interesting to share the bill with Jello Biafra of the former Dead Kennedys. So Michael Livermore would become a lasting musical partner. He would remain with Dagga Cult through the disk "Royal Lovers and Naked Holy Men".

Without a doubt "Royal Lovers and Naked Holy Men" was the most important project Dagga Cult ever completed. At this time, some three years later the New College of California is creating a video around the piece "Goddess Scorned", one of the songs on the disk. Attention seems to persist, even though the band is gone. However, the Band did have some engagements worth mentioning. Once a year for three years, we were the musical entertainment for the annual scrap art contest put on by Garbage Re-Incarnation, Inc. at the Sonoma County landfill, outside Sebastopol, California. That's right, we played the Dump once a year for three years. Out in Guerneville, at the Midway Caberet on River Road, the power went out one Saturday all down the valley. So they set up a generator and some candles and we did the show. They must have heard us for miles, there were no TV's or stereos to compete with us. The rain stopped just in time for the music. What a night! Back in town, we did Beddaker Park next door to Glide Memorial Church an aftnoon outdoor show that had a real neighborhood feeling. So did Music Day 94, up in Potrero Hill and the madcap thursday night at the Covered Wagon Saloon [a gang of crazed medical students showed up out of nowhere; it was a near riot]. That was one of my favorite engagements in town, though my music lawyer and friend, Barry Simons said it was sloppy. Sloppy Hell; what band doesn't want a crowd of pleasure seeking loonies to show up and take over the night. They bought all kinds of booze and danced their asses off, who cares if they tried to take over the stage! Nothing got hurt; I thought it was a great time. Its tough to remember all the nights and afternoons the band had out there; we thank everyone, it was great!

To be surgical about this, James needed to be more practical about two daughters entering U.C. Santa Barbara. Matt was itching for his own show, which for now, manifests itself as a Bluegrass ensemble named Mud Acres . This is a group of very talented people, if you like Bluegrass, watch out for this act; it's a must hear. Matt's lead vocals have a sometimes haunting, rustic sincerity; his guitar stylizations are genuinely engaging. Also, enjoyed the lady fiddle player; real sweet sound. And so, Drew Anthony was solo once again. There was no way to sit still, so a new batch of songs and out I went. The open mike circuit was smaller, but kinder. Pat Nugent finally gave me a set at the Mirabel, formerly the Owl and Monkey. Akmed out at the Simple Pleasures Cafe on Balboa Street, Richmond district, San Francisco, began to book me on a monthly basis. So did the Sacred Grounds Cafe. Also, found friends at the Cafe International in the lower Haight. The real re-invention began with "Strange but Drew". This moniker, presented to me primarily by Mario Desio of the band Tapwater. He got help from Jeff Bursely and Erik Zackman of Nothing Cool and Leon Chase, formerly of the band Beltfight. Now working with the Pillowbiters. Leon insists this band doesn't exist anymore, but the rest of us won't let it die. Leon is also a cartoonist, who occasionally puts out a comic called "Stewey". He's a very talented man. This bunch [we were all part of a crew remodeling a victorian building] persisted in this nickname long enough for me to take them up on it, and so "Strange but Drew" was born. It's a good thing that this name is a gift; there are so many stranger people in show business than me. It's fun for now.

Copyright ® 1998, Andrew Anthony Autuori