From left to right:
Dr. Rico (bottom), Boomer, the
Unknown Sous Chef, Dragon5, 10’s

Boomer
Chief Cook & Bottle Washer

Piano, trumpet, French horn, the Beatles, a Hofner 500/1, best bud gets a Country Gent, we form a band. Late 60's, discovering Brubeck and Mother Nature. College and cars. Lotus, Titan, Zink, Lola (not him!), Hurry Downs, the Kink, the Keyhole, Canada Corner, the Carousel, the Esses, Thunder Valley, all a blur. Better living through chemistry. AOR radio. Apple 2. MilNet, ArapaNet, BBS's. Strats and Teles. Levinson, Wilson, AR, Audio Note. Better living without chemistry. The Internet. The Keys, Bay Islands, Cozumel, blue holes and rebreathers. Guitars and amps. Lessons? Whammy bars, lounges, forums, the Diner. I left stuff out!

Dragon5
Moderator

I'm a child of the 50's, the hippie era and spandex guitar heroes. Eventually, I married, had children and fell in love with the guitar. My musical epiphany struck me at age 40, so I'm technically a newbie player and not likely to get much better - but it's the most fun I've ever had by myself.

Dr. Rico
Diner Manager & Open Mic Co-ordinator

My favorite Unca, Buddy, gave me my first guitar in 1969. Buddy served in Nam and came home a changed man. He taught me about Rock, and psychedelics, and questioning authority. He didn't know a thing about music, but he knew he liked it. And he didn't know a thing about guitars, but he thought it would stir me up a bit to play electrical guitar. Trumpet was my serious instrument and guitar was just for fun. Guess which one I stuck with? I've accumulated a lot of gear looking for tone. I've taken a lot of lessons looking for tone. But unlike a lot of common knowledge, it doesn't seem to me that tone lies within good gear or good hands. Tone originates in self-confidence. When I believe in what I play, when I turn off the inner critic and just play for the fun of it, tone is thick and compelling. When I obsess about it, my git sounds like its been rode hard and put away wet.

10’s
Moderator

I was born in a cross fire hurricane and I howled at the driving rain. I was raised by a toothless, bearded hag. I was schooled with a strap right across my back. I was drowned, I was washed up and left for dead. I fell down to my feet and I saw they bleed. I frowned at the crumbs of a crust of bread. I was crowned with a spike thru my head.
And now I'm here and its a gas!

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