The most significant New York club for me was Paradise Garage, where they played house music. This was around '84 or '85.
You can call me an angry ghost when I'm gone, or laugh into my disposition. But my mom will still see me as her wide-eyed wanderer out behind the garage inventing ways to fend off dog attacks that will probably never happen.
Even as a 10-year-old, I remember trying to explain to my mother and stepfather how upset and frustrated a messy room made me. But they just couldn't grasp it. They wanted me to be playing with baseballs and frogs while I wanted to be scouring garage sales.
When Tiger was 6 months old, he would sit in our garage, watching me hit balls into a net. He had been assimilating his golf swing. When he got out of the high chair, he had a golf swing.
If you walked into Netscape headquarters with a plain old modem from CompUSA they'd think it was a garage-door opener.
Whenever I say I made a record in the garage, people just assume that I have, like, a Lear jet parked in there or something. But really there's old luggage, a couple of bikes. It's big enough to put one minivan in. That's it. No dartboard. I'm so not macho.
I still love the music and it's still plays a part in what I do but I never 'turned my back' on garage. I was always doing R&B with, say, Walking Away. It's wonderful that I was classed as the king of 2-step and a pioneer, but it's had its turn, I think.
It was 2002, we all got guitars for Christmas and started playing in my garage that summer, rehearsed there and in a warehouse for a bit for about a year. We did our first gig in June 2003 and we played a few gigs in and around Sheffield for a bit then started doing gigs outside of Sheffield about this time last year, recording demos while all this was going on.
Inconvenience yourself: ditch the remote, the garage door opener, the leaf-blower; buy a bike, broom, rake, and snow shovel.
I was about seven years old. In my mother's garage I used to create plays and star in them and charge the neighborhood kids five cents to see them. It was a lot of fun.
That's why crazy people are so dangerous. You think they're nice until they're chaining you up in the garage.
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