I played drums for years and then some fool showed me first position chords and I wrote about 20 songs in a week with just A and D. My drumming atrophied as I became obsessed with songwriting. In college I met my bassist and we played in The Oddities, a shambolic band that was short on chops and long on energy. She was from DC, so after college I moved there and we founded the Washington Social Club. WSC was an instant local hit, and within a year we were touring the country and releasing our first record, Catching Looks. We grew to include a pair of brothers on guitar, played with a long list of notable indie rock bands, including The Hold Steady, Stars, Metric, Phantom Planet, POTUS, and many more, performed on NBC late night talk shows and MTV, synced songs to a laundry list of tv shows from the 00’s, recorded a second album Bigger Than Your Boyfriend, and then to round out the biopic, broke up. The band didn’t make me a rock star, but it did give me fond hazy memories and love from one superfan Taylor, who was foolish enough to marry me and save my life (quite literally).

Seven years later after wandering the country working for different non-profit organizations, we ended back in DC in a little suburban house filled with guitars and foster kids. Love was in the air, and it even reignited old friendships – the Washington Social Club returned in 2017, better than ever. We graduated to legend status, at least according to the kids who now booked the clubs.

In 2020 we were locked down like the rest of you. Taylor and I realized the moment was ripe to fulfill a lifelong goal – moving to New England to enjoy trees, moose, and maple syrup long into our old age. Taylor is a writer, and huge fan of Louisa May Alcott.  So when we visited Walpole to see a cool old house, we took the fact that LMA had hung out in this house as an omen. We packed up and moved. One day a few months later I took Taylor to the train station for a business trip, and she insisted on heading down a small street to find parking. I protested but gave in and as we drove up a road Taylor said “hey, what’s that?” It was WOOL. “You should do that!” she prodded and who was I to disagree?

From the jump, I knew the type of show I wanted to do. For years I had toured the country and although the hangovers and terrible hotel rooms weren’t my favorite, I missed seeing new bands. So I decided to use my show as a platform for them, thus, the Dangerous Indie Hour was born. In America independent bands rarely get any attention, and although my show won’t fix that, it’s the best I can do on short notice. The journey continues, one dangerous song at a time.