And so it goes…

Domenico and I (Gino) both grew up on 8th Street in San Pedro, California, without ever really knowing one another. Funny thing is, I knew his parents and all his siblings - even went to school with his sister. Oddly enough, it was the same situation for him. He knew my entire family, minus me. Weird? Yes, because this is a town where everybody knows one another and seems to be related in some way, shape or form.

Did I mention Dom and I are distant cousins on both sides of the family?

Scary? Yes!

Deliverance? No!

But, one may think that upon reading the above. (Talk to any Italian SP local to get the whole scoop.)

As the years passed, we both ended up taking a big interest in music, but on two opposite sides of the spectrum. (What else would you expect?) I was getting my fill as a drummer in a cover band, playing intensely long sets of other artist's material at random homes, party halls and on a local cruise boat that toured the harbor. Most of the time we'd pack the house and three hours later the walls would be perspiring as much as the band and the crowd. We played until our hands blistered and our friends danced until they couldn't lift their feet anymore. We'd always close the night with Rock n' Roll by Led Zep, so just when I thought I couldn't take anymore, I'd have to kick in the "extra-energy reserve" for my extended monster drum solo, which followed the song. (Bonham, I apologize if I did you wrong, homeboy. I tried!) And as usual, at the end of the evening, I found myself by myself walking to my truck with two armfuls of drum equipment. As for the other guys in the band, always a girl in one arm and their guitar strapped around the other. What did I do wrong? (Note to self: LEARN THE GUITAR!!!)

(Deep sigh with head in hands) OK, let's move on…

On the other side of Alma (the street that intersects 8th) Domenico sat and practiced classical piano for hours upon hours in a small bedroom, usually in the company of his dad. That was his daily routine for a couple of years and he didn't break it. Unlike me who plays mostly by ear, Dom had some great teachers who helped him achieve the fine skill of sight-reading accompanied by proper piano technique. (I bet his neighbors never complained.) Fast forward six months later and this little freak was playing Chopin and Beethoven at prestigious piano recitals and competitions where the audience only makes noise after the song is over. Spooky! Dom was the kind of musician you either wanted to beat down (because of his talent) or listen to all day. Chops like that didn't come after six months or did they? Here I'm trying to figure out the outro drum fill in "Cold As Ice" and this punk's getting ready for Rachmaninoff's 2nd. I'll show him!!! (Note to self: Go back and actually learn the fill in "Cold As Ice.")

(Deep sigh after kicking pebble with hands in pocket.) OK, moving on once again -

Upon the breakup of my last cover band, I was finally introduced to Domenico through a mutual friend of ours. Dom had heard I wanted to write originals and was interested in exploring that musical route. The timing was perfect. The journey was long.

We started off as a three-piece band, but upon the quick departure of our very temporary guitarist, we instantly became a unique, yet unpolished duo. I was writing lyrics and playing drums and Dom was composing the music, playing piano and singing. It was interesting. It was dramatic. And a big chunk of it was over the top with extra cheese. More Limburger, please! And around the corner, a HUGE learning curve was waiting with open arms.

We wrote epic pieces that were seven to eight minutes in length and called it "pop." Err…highly unlikely. But we were trying and most importantly, we kept writing. It was tough trying to fit into the mainstream because we were anything but that. We were in our own little world - a square marble in a big, round musical universe.

Throughout the next several years, we made numerous demos and each one was accompanied by a different band name. The configuration of our band changed constantly as well. Musicians rolled in and out like the tide, as did the challenges of capturing musical consistency and some form of identity. Things eventually came around and we settled comfortably into a slammin' six-piece rock band. The music was BIG (but then again, it always was - even as a duo). Our songwriting took shape. Our musicianship was flourishing. And, our "trademark sound" remained. We were content and happy… at least for a little while.

The six-piece band was a blast and very successful to boot. But the success was bittersweet. Money and time were working against us, mainly because at the time, time was money. (Hey, nice play on words there.) Here's an example: We'd be getting radio play across the nation (on reputable secondary market stations) but we couldn't follow up the airplay with any gigs because we were bottoming out financially. There was A LOT of money being put out for "radio promotions" a.k.a. "payola" (sorry kids, that's just how it works) and on top of that we had several paid musicians in the band. That alone was a double-edged sword. Their musicianship was superb and they were responsible, organized individuals. But at the same time, they had other projects (that paid more), busy schedules (most during weekends which is prime time for gigging) and they cost us money whenever they were around. That kind of wears on you from a "hurry up and be creative" standpoint "because we can only work on this song for 30 minutes if we want to get to the other six new tunes before rehearsal ends." It's even more frustrating when you're talking to a music director from a radio station and you have to reject his invitation to play their annual summer concert because it would cost way too much to transport and pay your hired guns to do the show. Hair loss, trauma and disappointment? Yes, a little…but it was only temporary, plus most of the hair grew back.

For a while - maybe a little too long - Dom and I, unfortunately, got trapped in an unhappy band situation. Fixing it literally meant letting some really good musicians go. And, over the years (paid or unpaid) these musicians became our friends. Needless to say, the task was difficult but necessary in order for us to grow and progress. So, we did it. The splits were amicable with all parties involved. Everyone knew it was the best thing to do because we were all moving in different directions at that point in time. And now, for the first time in a long time, Dom and I were back to square one. Revived, refreshed and ready to start anew.

The search was on for new (unpaid) musicians who would hopefully approach our music with an entirely new perspective, sound and feel. Five months later the search was over. We found no one.

Can you say: FLAKES? I knew that you could.

I remember telling Dom, "Hey! Start learning these songs on your piano. I'm booking some acoustic shows for you and me." His returning comment was simply, "Really? OK." I was happy to hear his answer because during the years of the six-piece, "Dom on piano" did not exist. We put that to the side because we wanted a mobile front man - untied and free of any instrument - just a microphone and a voice. All of that changed overnight.

Suddenly, we were back as the duo we started off as and the music never felt or sounded better. The energy was high; the vibe was right and the sound, as usual, was dramatic and BIG. Talk about making your full circle. This was it! We teamed up with another San Pedran, Nick Gomez (don't let the name fool you - he's another relative) who plays sax and flute (quite well, I might add) and is able to bring his own dynamic and distinctive dimension to the tunes as well as the band.

Dom and I have never felt better about our music than we do today. Even as a duo, we manage to encompass everything we want say both musically and lyrically in a three, four or sometimes six-minute song. Except now we have the songwriting experience to help us present the material to our audience in the best way possible.

We pride ourselves on being a band with a positive outlook as well as one of substance. And though we typically write about dark and deep-rooted subjects, they're always accompanied by some type of resolution - a light at the end of the tunnel. That's the most important message for us to convey to our audience and ourselves. Beyond our personal conflicts (no matter how inconsequential or severe) lie contentment, inner peace and happiness. And they're all attainable, as long as we're willing to accept them.

Looking back, I realize it was OK to be the square marble. It forced us to stay in one place and adapt to our musical surroundings, instead of just rolling away or following other trends. It enabled us to remain unique, grounded and focused. It was a good thing because it is what and who we are today.

And so it goes…