Almost Perfect Ukulele On An Imperfect Day

Electric CigFiddle manufactured by hand in North Hollywood, California by (Matty) Baratto Guitars

Jack White's Ghost

Supreme underachieving super-group Spy Smasher were a three piece sonic force terrorizing the Los Angeles, California post-punk clubs, bars and basements then up and down the West coast in the 1990’s.

Demon 440 by SPY SMASHER

Howlin' Chil'in Blues (I Don’t Want No Love)

Cry Me An Ocean

In the heart of a gritty urban sprawl, Bob eked out a living as a gas station attendant. Days were spent in the suffocating fumes of fuel pumps, and nights in the cramped apartment above, strumming his guitar to escape the city's relentless cacophony.
One evening, a weary traveler stumbled upon Bob's makeshift sanctuary. Enthralled by the raw emotion in his music, the traveler, a music producer with an eye for untapped talent, saw potential where others saw only pavement and pollution.
With the producer's guidance, Bob's melodies evolved, reflecting the grit and grind of city life. Yet, fame remained elusive. Though his songs resonated with those who felt the weight of the concrete jungle, success seemed always just out of reach.
Still, Bob persisted, his music a beacon of hope in the midst of urban chaos. He played in dimly lit bars and subway stations, his audience consisting of weary commuters and lost souls seeking solace in his songs.
Despite the lack of recognition, Bob remained steadfast in his dedication to his craft. For him, the music wasn't about fame or fortune; it was a means of expressing the unspoken struggles of city dwellers like himself.
And so, Bob, the gas station attendant turned troubadour of the streets, continued to strum his guitar, his music weaving tales of survival and resilience in a city that never slept.

Cold Blue Steel

Introducing Bob, a recording artist whose debut album takes you on a nostalgic journey inspired by a found demo tape from 1995. This captivating collection of recordings showcases Bob's musical prowess, all initially brought to life on a Tascam 4-track porta-studio in the vibrant city of Culver City, CA.

In the heart of a gritty urban sprawl, Bob eked out a living as a gas station attendant. Days were spent in the suffocating fumes of fuel pumps, and nights in the cramped apartment above, strumming his guitar to escape the city's relentless cacophony.

One evening, a weary traveler stumbled upon Bob's makeshift sanctuary. Enthralled by the raw emotion in his music, the traveler, a music producer with an eye for untapped talent, saw potential where others saw only pavement and pollution.

With the producer's guidance, Bob's melodies evolved, reflecting the grit and grind of city life. Yet, fame remained elusive. Though his songs resonated with those who felt the weight of the concrete jungle, success seemed always just out of reach.

Still, Bob persisted, his music a beacon of hope in the midst of urban chaos. He played in dimly lit bars and subway stations, his audience consisting of weary commuters and lost souls seeking solace in his songs.

Despite the lack of recognition, Bob remained steadfast in his dedication to his craft. For him, the music wasn't about fame or fortune; it was a means of expressing the unspoken struggles of city dwellers like himself.

And so, Bob, the gas station attendant turned troubadour of the streets, continued to strum his guitar, his music weaving tales of survival and resilience in a city that never slept.

Bob

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