Popular From Roman Odessa

He was discovered walking down a set of train tracks in Louisville, Kentucky one day and someone took a photograph of him. He said his name was John Train....at least that's what he thought. He decided to stay in Louisville and managed to become one of those talked about, yet never invited to parties, individuals who strummed out homemade mid-town music. He made his rounds of the establishments in the Highlands and beyond, engulfing the music scene yet being his standoffish self that everyone had come to love. Was it contempt or shyness that kept him out of the cliques of those early 90's, one may never know. Befriended by some of the local music royalty, his pedistrian songwriting and guitar playing caught on and almost became the new fad until....the nemises appeared! The early concoction of the Twice Told Coffeehouse hosted his first big solo show. The marketing plan had worked to a tee: the house was packed standing room only, they almost ran out of coffee. Then the wheels fell off. Standing onstage, looking out over the attentive hushed crowd, he knew he wasn't ready for success....just yet. The music started and surprisingly it wasn't the guitar playing that let him down, more the crackled, squeaking pipes of the young artists throat. In the end though, the dedicated stayed through to the last note and provided comfort and half hearted compliments. He was gracious with his thanks, yet knew that before this stage could be stepped upon again, many changes were going to have to take place. Alas, he all but disappeared for many a year. Oh yes, he could be seen trapsing into the occasional show of a friend or making a purchase at the local dry goods store, but he remained non committal on a return to the craft. Only in 1998 ,when our political system was filled with great strife, did he fire the next shot. And oh what a glorious, powerful shot it was. Man O' War released a fury of contridiction and psychological turbulence on the scene and the limited pressing quickly sold out. Yet as powerful as it was, there was a George S. Patton aura around him and the release. Time to regroup. 2000 brought about the much anticipated sophmore release, Gallahadion. It was worth the wait. The royalty loved it, the people loved it, the critics loved it, the love affair he had waited for so long had finally arrived. Magic was in the air when the head jester called him for a spot at Cash and Clash. There had been a cancellation and he only had a week to prepare. He gathered up his merry men and proceeded to ROCK the roof off the saloon at Phoenix Hill. Punkers applauded, Rednecks applauded, harmony was achieved and the beer flowed freely amongst them all. Then, as if a recurring bad dream....the wheels fell off! The drummer wigged out, the bassist moved to Nashville with his other band, the conga player got a regular gig, and the lead guitar player became a bit too clingy to pitching his own songwriting for the singer to sing. Some would say, well...back to square one, but he did not. He said on prancer, on dancer and lept forward to the Anti! Anti-Folk that is. Now some would say that Anti-Folk is an actual genre but he says Anti-Folk is a state of mind and that any genre of music can classify if the state of mind is there. And lets face it, our minds are the most powerful tool in the artists arsenal. So, on down the Anti-road he goes, following in the legendary footsteps of the likes of Roger Manning, Kirk Kelly and Joie DBG. Pushing 40 he may be, yet this is a new beginning.

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