Biography
No one remembers the exact time or place, just that it always was, like warm beer or stale potato chips. It started simple, a small organ in the back corner of the basement; Aubrey Alexander plugged it in and just listened to it's hum.
Over twenty years later Aubrey still found himself banging out show tunes for blue haired old ladies in whatever seedy venue would pay the rent. He doesn't wear sequins, peacock feathers, or ruffled shirts; he doesn't write pseudo-depressio-angsty songs or glitzy rock ballads. His music is the reflection of his own heart; simple, elegant, uplifting. In a world of broken bicycles sometimes all you want to do is ride.
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