Bog Spavin
Growing up in the 80’s was tough. Bad hair and overly reverbed snare drums made for a decade of music that was very unforgettable, especially when Quiet Riot is stuck in your head…playing over…and over…and over. Leg-warmers ran rampant in the streets, and Michael Jackson wasn’t nearly as creepy as he is know. But however crazy this time of our lives was, this really has absolutely no bearing whatsoever as to what our band is…or has been through.* Craig grew up in suburban Phoenix…a life that should be wished upon no one. Hot summer days and want-to-be Californians everywhere made life tough on the streets. Driving around in SUV’s, sippin’ on jamba juice was enough to make anyone get caught up in the game. His only choice for escape from this madness…pick up everything he had and move to Loveland, CO…a very decent city in northern Colorado that lives in the shadow of the much more decent-er city Fort Collins. Greg Salyards, also known as Nigel Tuffnel, has been a bad ass for years. Growing up in Northern NV, Greg was a world class card player by the age of nine. Son of a blackjack dealer and bartender, he has been rumored to be one of the best black jack players on the northern Nevada black list (more specifically the Lake Tahoe area)...although we all know his true strength lies in “Go Fish” and “Old Maid.” I must also take this time to warn you…ever since he took a year-long sabbatical to work on a monkey farm, strange behaviors have followed. Although we believe that when he picks bugs out of our hair that he is truly just hungry…there is a certain craziness in his eyes that screams, “I’m obsessed with hair follicles and I don’t care who knows it!” (Jason), whose real name shall be written in parenthesis to protect his true identity, is actually quite a good chef. Also known as “King Roux-ie the XIII” or “The Big Block of Austrailian Gruyere Cheese,” (Jason) has cooked his way into the minds and souls of some of the most important people in Loveland. He won his first guitar in an interpretive dance contest to the soothing sounds of the likes of corn rustling in the breeze, Swiss Alpenhorns, and Yanni. Originally from somewhere in Iowa (does it really matter where?), his pilgramage to find the most invigorating blend of food and music eventually led him to assume the of Bog Spavin’s resident face-melter…and a match made in heaven was formed.* Not much is known about Wade. He is said to have come to Fort Collins one dark and stormy night. They say he came in search of a magical basketball hoop that attaches to your belt with a ball on a string that hangs down underneath. Now it has long been told that one day, a tall, dark horse from the west will come with the ability to move his pelvis in such a way that makes this ball swing up and fit perfectly inside this hoop; incidentally this same “thrust” makes the ladies swoon as well. And when the ball is in the hoop, this man shall become the chosen one, and do very great things. Well, one night, not long ago…Wade found this hoop…and he tried it on…and low and behold, he had all the right moves to be able to fullfill his destiny and sink the ball in the hoop! It was amazing! Not much has happened since then…
