There were a few pivotal moments in my life that cemented how much I wanted to be a musician. I had been taking guitar lessons since about age 8 or 9 but I had my first taste of “success” at 11 years old, and boy was it intoxicating. I was the lead singer of my 6th grade band, The Keepers Of Peace, and somehow we were able to enter a local Battle of The Bands in Iowa City, where I was living at the time. We performed in front of a crowd of nearly 1,000 people and won second place among grown adults and professional bands. It was most likely the cuteness factor that led to our win (how do you crush the dreams of three 11-year-olds?) but it was the first time I ever felt like a “rockstar” and it made me want to chase this music dream forever.

Fast forward to my senior year of high school, where I was graduating from a public school in rural Vermont. Throughout my high school years, I’d played a lot of shows at my school auditorium and a few local events and venues, but never ventured out into the wider world. I got the opportunity to attend GRAMMY Camp, a camp run by the GRAMMY Foundation for kids interested in going into the music industry. While at GRAMMY Camp, I had the opportunity to perform at the GRAMMY Museum, meet legends like Ryan Seacrest and AJ McLean, and play at the historic El Rey Theater. Most importantly, I was around other people who all wanted a career in music, and it no longer felt like just a “fantasy”.

Finally, there was a turning point where my partner Greg and I realized we wanted to make music together. We had been dating for a year and were both singers but kept in our own lanes (I was doing the singer-songwriter thing and he was doing musical theater). On a whim we decided to host a cabaret, titled “You And Me (But Mostly Me)” at The Duplex in New York. The cabaret went over so well that we ended up doing it again in Greg’s hometown of Austin and later again for an off-Broadway series. We then happened to get a residency at the Nomo SoHo, where we had free reign to perform whatever we’d like for three hours every week. That allowed us to hone our craft and really learn how to vibe off each other. This eventually caught the eye of GRAMMY-winning producer Mr. Sonic, who signed us to his label and started producing what would turn into Fab The Duo's debut EP, Our Love Is Resistance.

Photo courtesy of Dana Gorab

For as long as I can remember, The Beatles have always been a part of my culture. I’ve always been disappointed not to be born during the 60s because I always loved this period for all that it brought for rock music.

My dad is a huge Beatles fan and he used to play their songs with the guitar and sing along. It is also with their songs that I started to learn English. At one point, I wanted to understand their lyrics (I am French) so I practiced my English with them! At 4 years old I was learning the piano, and I think that 4 years later I knew how to play “Let It Be” and “Hey Jude”. At 11 years old, when I learned how to play the guitar, I wanted to play “Blackbird” or the guitar riff of “Day Tripper”.

When I was about 13 years old, my dad offered me a ticket to go with him and see Paul McCartney live at the Palais Omnisports de Paris-Bercy (named Accor Arena nowadays) in Paris. It was a dream come true. When we arrived at the venue, the place was so crowded; many famous musicians and singers were in the audience (for example, Sting was there). Everyone was waiting for this epic performance and man, it was epic! 37 songs played! I was singing almost all the songs with him, not being able to sit down for more than two minutes on my chair because I was so involved in the show.

When he finished the first part with “Hey Jude” and I heard the entire crowd singing along, I just felt the tears coming. It was magic.

The very last song of the show, “The End”, was just a pure moment out of time and space. I felt so connected with his music and his performance; seeing him on stage just changed my perception of how I wanted to play music, and my vision of a band (he has really wonderful bandmates as well).

I saw him on stage one more time in the Stade de France 10 years later, and once again I was impressed by him. He was more than 70 years old, and he performed as if it was the first time he went on stage, with a smile on his face all along…

Photo courtesy of Fabian Di Corcia

It marks no surprise to family, friends, teachers or even enemies that I have chosen to pursue a career in music. As a kid, an early crop of red flags emerged as pigtailed performances as Baby Spice became a weekly meal of its own, to be served as an accompaniment to the roasted rack of lamb and garlic mashed potatoes of Sunday family dinner. 

Photo courtesy of Dana Gorab

It was 28 May 2002 at the Royal Spa Centre in Leamington Spa, Warwickshire, England. I couldn’t believe the great Hank Marvin himself was going to be playing in our sassy little town...

Years earlier, at some tender age or other, I heard and saw on television a band full of guitars (and one drum set). Flashy red guitars they were. I was only little, and those men with those gorgeous red guitars were kind of doing a shuffle dance as they played. How didn’t they trip over? It was just a guitar sound, mind - no singing. They called themselves The Shadows. They did have someone who sang with them sometimes though and when he did, I turned it off. His name was Cliff Richard and was obviously trying to copy the King, Elvis Presley.

That guitar sound just stuck into my head and I desperately wanted one of those beautiful red guitars, especially the one Hank used with the lever that had a white knob at the end. I thought he used that to pick the strings with and didn’t realise that when he wobbled it, the notes quavered somewhat.

Then I heard more similar music from some guys called Jet Harris and Tony Meehan. Their “Diamonds” and “Scarlet O’Hara” were added to my music collection, along with “Dance On”, “Wonderful Land” and “Foot Tapper” (the latter three from The Shadows). It wasn’t until much later on that I found out Jet Harris and Tony Meehan used to be in The Shadows and even later on than that, Jet Harris was actually playing ‘lead bass’ for “Diamonds” and “Scarlet O’Hara”, not a Stratocaster! Needless to say, The Shadows and in particular, Hank Marvin, was my first love of music before the advent of The Beatles, then Led Zeppelin, then Dire Straits and so on.

Music has always been a very important part of my life since I was a child. I am not sure whether the fact that my parents took me to a Garth Brooks concert while I was still in-utero or just a natural instinct, but from the time I was actually cognitive, there has been something about music that makes me want to move and stop paying attention to the troubles around me. Growing up, my parents were always showing me a wide variety of music from Great Big Sea, being my first concert, all the way to The Ramones and everything in between. They wanted to make sure that as I became my own person I got to experience as much of the musical spectrum as possible so I could figure out where my own taste lived.

Though I always loved music, it wasn’t until I got to high school that I had an interest in actually playing and creating music. Trevor [Bowman, bassist], and I grew up together in a little rural town called Elmira, Ontario. Being such a small town, there really wasn’t much to do to keep young people busy, especially in the entertainment space; so we were forced to get a little more creative to sustain ourselves and stay out of trouble. This is going to sound extremely fantastical, but months after I started trying to teach myself how to play the guitar, I remember Trevor boldly suggesting while we were at school that it would be super cool if we started a band. He recommended that he buy a bass guitar and learn how to play since I already had a guitar at home. That was the beginning of our long journey together. After learning a few simple cover songs, we found some other friends who played music and started the first version of Excuses Excuses (called Stained Glass Army).

For Trev and I, when we hit the stage for the first few times, it was like a part of us woke up from a deep hibernation. We were absolutely hooked on the feeling of standing in front of a crowd, sharing our passion and getting to be whatever we wanted to be for those brief moments. It was the most energizing and relieving feeling we had ever experienced, and right away we knew we had found something special within ourselves that we needed to pursue. As we kept playing and learning, these feelings only got stronger to the point where we spent countless late nights talking in wonder about how we could find a way to turn our passion into a living, expressing that neither of us could really see ourselves being happy without it even though we had only been working at it for a few short years. That was the moment we knew we not only wanted, but needed, to make music.

After that we really started investing our time and money into music, even though many of the other members of our high school band began to move on. We ended up briefly going to school in Kingston, Ontario, where we met Jason [Nicoll, drummer] through friends at Trevor’s college after we hadn’t been active in several months. When we started hanging out with Jason it was an instant click, and as we began to practice with him, that love and need for playing was instantly reinvigorated. Though we didn’t know where it would take us at this point, we played our first official show as Excuses Excuses on the university campus with our good pals in a rock band called Kasador after practicing with Jay only a handful of times. It was surreal… Not only did Trevor and I feel like we came back to life, but I like to believe that was the moment that we helped ignite the spark of passion in Jay. Sure, we already knew that we needed the music, but that was the moment that we realized how and with whom we wanted to make music. That was the moment that we truly became Excuses Excuses.

I had played piano for many years, starting at the age of 5. My piano teacher was lovely, and I liked the music a lot. However, there was a connection missing that I couldn't quite put my finger on.

Enter Travis Barker from Blink-182. I had just started junior high school at St. Andrews in North York. Blink-182's posters were everywhere, and soon their records were all I could listen to. “What's My Age Again” and “All The Small Things” were my anthems and Travis Barker my guru.

Up until that point, I had been playing French horn in the junior high school band. Not to knock on that instrument, as it's very difficult and its lush tones add a silkiness to the band's sonic aesthetic. However, I wasn't quite convinced that I was sitting on the right chair. Instead I would stare at the drum throne to my left, and with envy, look at the drummers and wonder and dream about what my life would be like if I was in their position.

So I grabbed some sparkling green drumsticks and a phonebook to practice on, and started my drumming journey with my teacher Goeff at Allegro Music. I was hooked and one year later I was the drummer of the school band, and the drummer of my own rock and roll band. I haven't looked back.


I come from a pretty musical family. My younger brother plays and my dad is a professional jazz musician. Some of my earliest memories of my dad were waving goodbye to him as he set off on tours and awaiting his return late at night, or hanging out in our at-home rehearsal room as he’d practice with his band. Growing up, even though he never forced any kind of music or music instruction on me, I always saw music as a life and career possibility. Although I’d fooled around on instruments around the house as a kid, I was always more enamoured with drawing and visual art, and at one point I considered pursuing that as a profession.

What firmly cemented me in music was when I discovered the social aspect of music-making. Making new friends who were equally as excited about jamming, listening to and writing music was unlike the introverted experience of drawing, and I loved the performance aspect of it - even though it terrified me for the longest time. For me, the social aspect of music is so built into the art itself. People often call music a language, but I always compare making music with someone like the language of dogs. You circle one another, sniff each other’s butts for a bit and then suddenly bolt in a race around the dog park. Or maybe you growl, or go belly up, just to see what the other will do. It’s that primal and visceral connection that cuts right through our prepared and polite social norms that makes music-making feel so rich, immediate and intimate.