Interview with the Washington City Paper, April 2001
My current favorite smoke is Portabella Mushroom Fajitas.
STEVE: No drums, but I live with four cats. Ziggy is the male elder at 11 years, Jesse and Jinx are twin sisters at 9 years, and Patchouli is a low-bottom stray I took in about four years ago. They're all pretty good company except when they're throwing up.
STEVE: I used to hang out in most of the watering holes around town, but I stopped drinking six years ago. Now the only watering hole I hang out in is the shower. My favorite automobile would have to be the Toyota 2WD pickup. I bought my first one back in 1986, and it was still running 260,000 miles later when I gave it away. It looked like hell and you had to pull the emergency brake to stop it, but that truck never left me stranded. I called it "the truck of luck."
When we got to our room, I noticed that the ceiling over my bed was cracked and there were small chunks of plaster on the bedspread. We complained to the front desk, but they said no other rooms were available. It was too late to find another hotel, so I ended up spending a long, uncomfortable night underneath that bed, expecting the roof to cave in. It never did, of course, but what a great metaphor for how I used to live. Since I used to cut my own hair, I can honestly say that my worst haircuts were self-inflicted.
STEVE: I've had lots of difficult roommates, and to single one out seems unfair. I will say that in every group-living arrangement where I signed a lease, we always forfeited our security deposit.
STEVE: Steve Ducey is my real name. I describe my sound as a blend of new age contemporary folk and traditional pop rock. Some people say I'm reminiscent of James Taylor. Others hear David Wilcox. I write everything in alternate tunings, and I try to write songs that can stand on their own with just voice and guitar. That doesn't mean I don't like other instruments. Most of the songs on my upcoming CD are quite produced. I'm just hoping I don't get the nickname "Steve Overproducey." Lyrically, I try to impart a positive message, usually from a metaphysical perspective.
STEVE: I usually wear all black on stage. I feel the most comfortable in black. On the road I eat peanut butter-and-jelly sandwiches and Clif bars.
STEVE: Influences...Beatles, Rolling Stones, Donovan, James Brown, Guess Who, Carol King, Grand Funk Railroad, James Taylor, Jethro Tull, Emerson Lake & Palmer, Yes, Genesis, King Crimson, Frank Zappa, Captain Beefheart, Soft Machine, Gentle Giant, Eagles, Little Feat, Bonnie Raitt, Jackson Browne, Steely Dan, George Benson, and David Wilcox. At the end of my first semester in music, I had to give a classical guitar recital before the entire school of music. I was so nervous on stage that I couldn't get my guitar in tune. After 10 minutes or so of fiddling with the tuner keys, I asked if I could try tuning it offstage, outside the auditorium. Once I got past those doors, I just kept going. I always wondered how long it took before someone realized I wasn't coming back.
I used to be in a rock-disco cover band called Mid-Atlantic Connection. We had 10 band members, and as with many large bands, there were some people who just didn't like each other. It finally came to blows one night when the trombone player insulted the keyboard player's girlfriend, who then got punched in face by the keyboard player, who then got strangled by the lead singer and bass player. Fortunately, no one was killed, but that was the end of Mid-Atlantic Connection.
Right now, I'm driving a 1998 Toyota Tacoma pickup. STEVE: The worst place I ever dropped trou was in first grade. It was the first time I ever stepped foot into a men's lavatory. I remember going in there by myself and seeing this row of urinals. Never having seen a urinal before, I just figured it was multipurpose like a regular toilet. So there I am, squatting on this urinal when the entire fifth grade class comes walking in for their afternoon lavatory recess. Needless to say, I was the object of considerable ridicule, but my heart still goes out to that poor janitor.
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