Repetitive Motion Syndrome by Alphanaut

By age ten, his family of five, having survived on a single, part-time, minimum wage income, was forced to heed their last last-call. Poverty had not only reared its ugly head, but it ripped the proverbial towel from Michael’s mother’s arms and threw it in a puddle of vodka. “My mom is a proud woman,” Michael says. “It was a painful thing to witness."

After days of detective work, Michael’s Mom located his father. It had been seven years since Michael lived with his Dad, with virtually no communication between them. Since his Dad possessed such endearing traits as being distant, overly confident, stubborn and emotionally unavailable, the reunion was anti-climatic. Dad, and the family he created apart from Michael and his siblings, decided to spare his forgotten offspring from the orphanage. He took them in.

From “funky town” to the backwoods of Norton, Massachusetts, and three months into high school, Michael, the new kid with the Motown background, was instantly alienated, and developed a toughness from his conflicts with the local hicks. As his discontent turned into physical violence, he discovered a way to neutralize all pre-conceived notions about how he would ultimately fit in. Thanks to the country and western wedding band his Dad was barely holding together, Michael spent every feasible moment, behind the drummers’ kit, teaching himself to play, and astonishing everyone with his natural musical talent.

Over time, Michael realized that his father had nothing more than basic shelter to offer, and knew that if he wanted anything he’d have to get it himself. Every morning he’d bike from block to block until he had spread enough news on his paper route to pay for his own drum kit. Relying only on the small income derived from slinging papers, Michael was forced to pursue any further musical education through what he calls, “Learn It or Die (an imaginary guide on how poor boys defer their dreams from Sudden Infant Death Syndrome),” which, incidentally, is the only method of education Michael has used to date.

There is nothing sweet about being sixteen when you’re starving, you want it all, and you need so much. Not surprisingly, Michael quickly gravitated toward rock-n-roll. Convinced that music was the only thing that would ever give his life meaning, he spent the next 11 years hammering in the suburban politics of garage band-hood. It began one summer when a friend, Chris Temkin, who was also a drummer, said, “I hooked up with this really cool band in Brockton and we need you to play bass.” Michael said, “Dude, I’m a drummer.” Chris said, “I know but we really need a bass player and I know you can do it.” At that time, and what seemed to be a reoccurring theme for Michael, he had nothing to loose. With support from Chris and the guidance of "Learn It Or Die," Michael taught himself to play the bass on a beat-up, baby blue guitar that he’s pretty sure Chris bartered for some chronic.

The band was dubbed "Steel Blue," and they hit the Boston club circuit like the trace of your hand at a 'Grateful Dead' concert…soft, long, irridecent, strangely exciting and with questionable heart palpitations. It was a good five-year run. By year two, Michael had taught himself to not only sing and write his own songs, but he also discovered an inseparable extension of himself—the piano.

When asked about his California interests, Michael had this to say, “It was year five for 'Steel Blue' at an outdoor show in the back woods of Wrentham, Massachusetts. There were masses of people and life was good until someone caught a glimpse of something ablaze on the dirt path that lead to the stage. There was a car on fire! And it belonged to our guitar player Chris Aviles. Turns out some neighboring kids, decided to ignite a “buy American” protest. Tragic as it was, we all just kind of stood around the burning car, drank more beer and sang Going to California by Led Zeppelin. A few weeks later, Chris drove up in his replacement vehicle. He seemed somehow different that day. He invited the band to sit in the car for a bit and began to tell us how he’d finally found the missing chord and how that chord was greater than any other chord he had ever played before, or will ever play again. That chord was God. He proceeded to “sing” along with that chord and it went something like this…’I can’t be in a rock band anymore because I’m not sure that it’s part of God’s plan.’ And with that, the Steel Blue sea parted.”

Up from the fiery hell of shattered grand illusion rose the boys' second battle with fame and rock stardom. "Gridlock," was affectionately described as “a good hard rock retro style band, but with low miles per gallon.” Storming the same Boston venues as before with a slightly larger fan base, 'Gridlock' crashed the tea party, ravished all the women, torched a billion brain cells, waged turf wars with each other and was ultimately forced, by their own admission, to walk the plank. “By far the most fun I ever had in a rock band,” recalls Michael. Finally, when all hope was gone, and the sad songs weren’t saying so much (contrary to Sir Elton John’s promise), he and Chris Temkin emerged as the everlasting, all-or-nothing duo, and did what any red-blooded American buds in the twentieth century who were totally lost, broke, and just needed to start fresh in the company of people whom they could count on, would do. They moved to California. Yup! With the stumbling speed of Chris’s drudgingly used and abused 1971 Dodge van they sputtered west, loaded to the hilt with life-sustaining necessities including: keyboards, guitars, drums and a battered collection of CD’s, t-shirts and jeans.

By the time they settled in Montrose, California, the 'Man In The Box' was desperately trying to rise from the dead, but the 'Dirt' was piled so high that they just ended up naming their last band, "Deep Under Green" or "D.U.G." Yes, 'Alice In Chains' and the Seattle invasion had them completely convinced that self-destruction was an option. Beautiful misery and anger filled the next five years with the heaviest music they had ever been a part of. Michael used every ounce of angst he had to morph himself into a full-fledged, grunge-powered front man. Many say that his vocal performances would literally give you chills in the way that only singers such as: Chris Cornell, Eddie Vetter or Lane Stanley could.

They surrendered as much of their blood, sweat, and tears as was humanly possible to make certain they did not fail. It could not fail. After all, the new guitar player’s dad said he believed in them and he was a successful tile store operator! Chris’ credit card company believed too, and generously allowed them to plunge thirty thousand dollars into debt to build their own recording studio! Michael even decided to set his love for piano playing aside and dedicate himself to the role of front man. 'D.U.G.,' thanks to Michael’s memorization of the "Learn It or Die chapter on band management," performed in every popular rock venue in Hollywood including The Troubadour, The Whisky, and The Roxy. They soon attracted interest from the Indy label T Bear Records, which was prepared to sign them to a distribution deal for $200,000! The ground started shaking! They heard CD’s falling off the shelves! The sound was overwhelmingly undeniable! But it did not come from the bands success, and it was not coming from an earthquake. In fact, it was coming from Michael’s unbelievable mind, his care-ridden heart and his betrayed soul. After a semi-recovery from collectively making the worst decision of their careers by not signing with T Bear Records, the guitarist and bassist proved that they were not ready to leave the nest and fend for their inalienable right to become musical legends after all by “flaking” on countless rehearsals, recording sessions, and shows.

Chris, too, would fall in line behind the other two band members. He decided to call it quits. Between the disappointment and the credit card bills, who could blame him? Michael, being no stranger to abandonment or adversity, did what any other artist, with everything he’d been working toward, imploding on him like an outdated casino would do -- he invested in his own recording equipment and single-handedly produced two of

his greatest CD’s to date.

The first, a seven song EP titled: "Repetitive Motion Syndrome" is a truly amazing achievement. Using the alias "Alphanaut," Michael wrote every song and played every instrument himself. This singer-songwriter-musician-producer extraordinaire had only one comment on the "R.M.S." recording, “I am a man of many hats, but I live for the day when my head is kissed by the sun.” Since the release of R.M.S. in 2002, Michael has sold many copies independent of any label via his web site (michaelpaulmusic.com) that, you guessed it, he designed and developed himself. To extend his sales resources, he has recently partnered with online distributors such as cdbaby.com, iTunes.com and towerrecords.com. 'Alphanaut' has been requested to perform at several Hollywood hot spots, including the world famous House of Blues. Michael is still considering forming a band around the 'Alphanaut' model, but for now, he’s decided to go it alone.

The recently released six-song EP, "Reach," is a one-of-kind recording comprised of piano and vocals only. Michael’s says, “The idea is to broaden my audience by diminishing production antics that might otherwise charm or intimidate the listener, and just give people the song in its truest form.” When asked what his solo experience has been like, Michael responded with, “If there is one thing I’ve learned as a solo artist, it’s that nothing is accomplished alone. Whether it’s a thought provoking conversation you have with a close friend, creative advice from someone you admire, or that one line from an artist you idolize, you are never truly ‘solo’.”

Who has influenced Michael’s musical style? “It might be easier for me to list things and people that do not influence me,” says Michael. “Every friend who’s ever turned me on to the music they love influences me. The music was and is fascinating, but the excitement in their hearts, when playing a track for me, is where I want to belong. Still, the skill and artistry of legendary bands and people like Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, The Beatles, The Who, Elton John, Carol King, Paul Simon, The Eagles, The Rolling Stones, and U2, have contributed to who I am today. The plethora of younger gods on the block, namely Cold Play, Fiona Apple, Audio Slave, Melissa Etheridge, The White Stripes, Keene, and KT Tunstall, keep me endlessly demanding more of who I’ll become tomorrow. John Lennon once said, ‘I love to turn you on.’ Well, I love to turn you, be it up, out, over or on. I hope to Reach you by whatever theme, melody, lyric, or audio stimuli necessary to remind you that we can never give up the search for hope in this often times seemingly hopeless world. Mind you, I do not do this unselfishly, but by writing songs, I am sometimes rewarded with a positive reply or comment such as, ’I haven't been moved by music like this in a long time.’ and so find hope myself.”

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