Back to Part I
I remember seeing
Louis around from time to time but my first encounter with him wasn't until
I was 11. He'd ripped a friend of mine off, selling him a crappy BMX bike
which he'd painted over and plastered with Red Line stickers, trying to
pass it off as the real thing. Teased by all the kids, my friend quickly
realized he'd been taken so we set off on bikes to find this "Louie" character
and get a refund. We tracked him down at the local video arcade where he'd
already spent the kid's money. No refund was granted but Louis and I wound
up becoming great friends.
Louis, CRegg and
I spent a lot of time together over the years, having fun, hangin' out
at each other's houses, getting into trouble (I was usually the instigator,
"always scheming" as CRegg puts it), and finding ourselves.
In 1990 CRegg was
burning with a passionate idea and told me that we had to form a band.
"Scott, you've already been playing bass, Lou's been playing guitar--he
can play all kinds of Slayer and Metallica stuff--and I can sing!" A mutual
friend of ours played drums and our first band was formed. We played parties
and had fun and all was going well until our drummer announced he was quitting
to join another band. We were hurt, but with 20/20 hindsight I now see
that everything happens for a reason.
We decided to form
a new band and go in a new musical direction. We met and jammed with a
slew of drummers, mostly meat heads; usually within the first 30 seconds
we could tell it wasn't going to work. Forming a strong band is much like
dating: you search and search until you find that perfect person for you,
that soulmate who understands you and who you understand; someone with
whom you can connect. When it is true, you know it.
Flashback: Michael
(drums) was born and reared in Los Angeles until his dad's job transferred
the family to Connecticut. He adjusted and life was good until his dad's
job relocated the family again, this time uprooting Michael's ties and
landing him at the beginning of his 10th grade year in a small country
town, just a blip on the map somewhere in Texas. "That's where my nightmare
began," Michael puts it. A small, fast-talking city kid, he stood out from
the crowd, never really fitting in, and became a self-professed "loner."
It was during that time that he spent countless hours locked away in his
room playing drums. He played in many bands and eventually his drumming
brought him back to L.A.
The music gods led
him to us as we found each other, of all places, in a "Drummer Wanted"
ad we'd placed in an L.A. paper. And in February of 1993 Boy Hits Car was
born.
We wrote songs and
gigged locally. Los Angeles has what we call the "pay-to-play" circuit
where certain clubs will sometimes charge bands up to a few hundred dollars
to pre-sell tickets to their own show which ensures them a slot on a good
bill. Since we always agreed bands shouldn't have to pay money to express
their art we opted not to take that route. Why do what is expected of you?
Why let the car hit you? We agreed to stand strong as the boy and hit the
car. Going it this way was sometimes tough. We never did pay-to-play but
with no fanbase we were given the worst possible time slots, like 12:15am
on a Tuesday or 7:30pm on a Friday.
We got used to playing
for next to no one and in turn, we learned how to play for ourselves, to
connect with each other, to feed off each other's energy and give it our
all; blood, sweat, and tears (literally). We became stronger as a unit.
In March of 1995
a booking agent got hold of our demo tape and sent us out on a six-week
tour. We'd hardly been out our front door and there we were traveling across
the country, just the four of us and all our equipment in our brown van,
"Scooby," living together, playing our music and growing closer as band
mates and as brothers. We were still playing to next to no one but we were
living our dream.
Once home, we wrote
more songs, played more gigs, and recorded more demo tapes. We did some
more short tours over the country and in 1997 we got signed to a very independent
record label. We recorded our first album, "My Animal" (released in May
1998). We gave it all we had but the label gave it no promotion and 2 weeks
after its limited release and low sales, they dropped us.
Feeling discouraged
and disheartened we pressed on and believed in the music we were creating
and in ourselves. We continued to do what we had always done. We played
more gigs with shoddy time slots and little by little more people kept
coming out to see us.
Toward the end of
1999 we began garnering interest from various record labels and in January
2000 we signed with our first choice, Wind-up Records.
In February we picked
up a handful of dates on the SnoCore tour opening for System Of A Down,
Incubus, and Mr. Bungle and recently we opened for Papa Roach on a couple
of dates, layin' it down to some crazy crowds. After years of sweatin'
it out to small crowds these gigs were a step up to a new level for us
as we found ourselves playing to the largest audiences we'd ever been in
front of; sometimes as many as 3,000 people. It's amazing for us to play
in front of large audiences and to connect and to feel the power and energy
coming back to us. But whether we are playing in front of 3,000 people
or 3 people our motto is the same as it's always been: "Play all-out from
the heart or don't play at all."
I know not where
tomorrow will take us; all I know is where we are today. And today I feel
fortunate to be able to create and play beautiful music with my three brothers.
And in this moment we are pouring everything we've got into this record
to make it the sickest, loveliest, ugliest, prettiest, most beautiful,
melodic, heartfelt album coming at ya straight from the depths of our soul.
People always ask
me, what does Boy Hits Car stand for? My answer is simple: Boy Hits Car
believes in living from the heart and following your dream. It doesn't
matter what your passion is or what you do, it just matters that you do
it with love.
Scott and Boy Hits
Car
.
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more?
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Album Art and Bio courtesy
of Boy Hits Car and Wind-Up Records. All Rights Reserved by Copyright holder.
