LET THERE BE SOUND.
Our story begins with Kolbe Hockel, a plucky drummer whose passion for percussion provoked scorn among his nearest and dearest. Forced to justify his loud habit, he looked to holy words for guidance and authority: "Rock and roll ain't noise pollution!" he preached. But he preached in vain. The sound was outlawed. Bereft of accommodating ears, Hockel was lost, adrift in his own home, forbidden to let loose the thunder raging in his soul. It seemed to him that all was hopeless, that the sound of the drums beating in his heart would remain forever submerged. Little did he know that rescue was rushing toward him, ready to bring him ashore.
THERE WAS SOUND.
LET THERE BE DRUMS.
As fate would have it, salvation arrived in the congenial form of Zechariah Robbins, an enthusiastic bassist who welcomed Hockel into his homey garage. This new venue immediately proved its legitimacy as a sacred place, serving not only as a sanctuary for the Hockel sound, but also as an avenue of new opportunities for musical collaboration. After experimenting for some time with many of the holy instruments the rock gods had seen fit to bestow upon them, Hockel and Robbins found their sound as a classic rhythmic duo of electric bass and acoustic drums.
THERE WAS DRUMS.
LET THERE BE KEYS.
Then, one fateful day, while Hockel was hard at work honing his rhythmic craft in the shelter of the garage of lore, a neighbor passed by. And in her attentive ears, Hockel's sound rang powerfully as a sacred call of duty. Mrs. Boctor walked right up to the door and introduced herself to Robbins. She proclaimed that her son Adrian was a musician and that she was certain her son's music would resonate true with the Hockel-Robbins sound. A day later, the rhythmic duo were introduced to Adrian Boctor, a well-traveled keyboardist who had recently returned from a sojourn in the holy city of Portland.
THERE WAS KEYS.
LET THERE BE GUITAR.
As this newly conceived trio began to play, each of them began to take note of a creative flow churning among them. Boctor then introduced his longtime friend Cameron MacCabe, a devout guitarist newly humbled by his distant travels to the eastern port city of New York, to complete the quartet of instrumentalists.
THERE WAS GUITAR.
LET THERE BE ROCK!
The four of them played together for another month, but all the while they knew that something was missing. Boctor suggested bringing in a female singer to front the group, and perhaps by happenstance, perhaps by fate, Hockel had just recently met another aspiring musician, a singer by the name of Jess (J-Hei) Taylor. At once, the five began staring into generations of music's past, hoping to catch the gaze of music's present.
THERE WAS ROCK!
AND THUS WERE BORN THE PEOPLE WHO STARE.