17 Years Behind the Kit: Rhythm, Reality, and the Drive to Keep Playing

It’s been 17 years behind a drum-kit. That’s how long I’ve been chasing the beat — from garage jams and college bars to New York streets and late-night studio sessions. The scene may look different now, but I’m still wired to the beat — it’s just who I am.

In college, I played with a band called The Big Orange Heads — a loud, chaotic, beautiful mess of a group. We weren’t famous, but we played every weekend, and for a while, that was enough to cover rent some months. It felt like a dream: sweat-soaked gigs at Bullwinkles till 2am, packed college venues, and a sense that maybe, just maybe, we could ride this wave further.

But dreams evolve — or they crack under the pressure of reality that surrounds us.

As the years went on, I shifted into solo work and joined forces with a rotating cast of incredible artists. Some projects fizzled, others thrived, but the hunger remained. That hunger eventually led me to New York, where The Silver Staggs was born. We built it from the ground up. No vocalist, no roadmap — just raw ideas and a love for noise that meant something. I remember Michael Marfisi (Guitarist) and I would be spending hours writing new music – and truly get lost, not having a sense of time in the dungeon we called home in Brooklyn. Engulfed in the loud noises of other rooms, mixed with the chaotic re-record sessions to make things right and release the product.

But as much as music feeds the soul, the world around it has shifted. Rock bands aren’t the thing anymore. Algorithms replaced album liner notes. Reels replaced rehearsals. It’s harder to keep a band alive when the culture doesn’t seem to care.

So now, music’s taking a back seat — but it’s never out of reach.

The sticks are always close by, and the fire to play still hits just as hard. Drumming isn’t something I used to do — it’s who I am. Whether it’s a stage, a studio, or just the living room rug, the rhythm finds its way back every time.