~
Scott ~ has no time for the bullsh*t. If it ain't real, don't sell it to him, 'cause he won't be buying it. He is in the music business for one reason and one reason only:
performing live music. And also making lots of cash. Oh yeah, and also for the screaming adoration of countless fans. OK, those were three reasons, but that's it. For now... Scott, or "The Hammer," as the ladies call him, joined BnB in late 2003 when the group was playing in the living room of an apartment above an Indian restaurant on Walnut Street. The impact of Scott's arrival to the band was not immediately noticable, mostly because the band had taken in drummer Jeremy the previous week and everyone was still trying to figure out this zany, boisterous, mullet-headed character. However, it didn't take long for Scott's presence to have an impact on the band. For starters, death metal quickly fell to the wayside, much to Jason's chagrin. The band moved away from the Slayer and Megadeth cover songs, of which Jason was SO fond, and started jamming in a funky, improvisational, groove-rock-style.
Soon, Scott introduced the band to its next step in the journey out of the apartment: hip-hop. Jeff, the bass player, had won several urban freestyle rap battles in his day, so he challenged Scott for the role of lead rapper. However, Jeff was left tounge-tied by Scott's verbal cirumlocutions and he soon found he was no match as an MC. Jeff vowed never to rap again and started to focus his full energy on playing the bass. At this point, Dave, the lead guitarist, was still traveling back and forth to his home (a cave deep in Mercury) and Jeremy was still talking and talking about who-knows-what, so Scott saw this moment as the right one to take over the band.
Scott got a microphone in front of his keyboards and started to rap and sing, just a little at first, but more and more as time went on. At first, the impact of the takeover was more like a ripple in a pool of water than a giant fireworks display. In the long run, this slow ripple-effect proved beneficial for the band, because fireworks end after the finale, but a ripple continues, often growing in size as it nears the shore. For BeatnikBrown, that journey to shore was moving out of the apartment and into the scene of live Philadelphia music. Jeremy got the band a regular gig playing on the street during First Fridays in Old City and Jeff booked gigs at the Nail and the Clubhouse, but it was Scott's dynamism -- nay, sheer musical brilliance -- that caught the eye of passers-by, bar patrons, booking agents and fans (especially the ladies). As BeatnikBrown conitued to play, Scott's star shone more and more brightly, until it became so blinding it blotted out the rest of the band. The band tried to retaliate, accusing Scott of breaking one of the band's microphones (the microphone, it turned out, was actually broken by Malik McDonald), but by this point, such accusations were not enough to stop him! His star began to absorb the mass of other stars, including Dave, who can take the shape and color of whatever object to which he clings. Now, the radience of Scott's light at a BeatnikBrown show is so bright that fans are urged to wear eye protection.
Sadly, the end can not be too far away. You say, "a long road awaits," but any fool can see that the bright light eminating from Scott's star is just too bright, and will surely supernova. Now any guy in this band with an Ivy-League-degree will tell you that the hydrodynamical problem of nuclear explosion of the dense carbon core of a star with such mass (easily greater than 150 solar mass) will irrevocably end in tragedy for the band.
Nevertheless, a long road awaits ... ?