Translate that beat through the summer heat. It goes boom–boom as the moon climbs and the homesick country boys cry then stomp their feet. Sad spiritous songs haunt the air. Raise a glass and invite the bright moon. Old guitars play sad tunes. Tile-eyed strip daggers drink rum, sting their lips and sing. And oh, the beat goes boom–boom. Shaky romantic so unsure of their breath, still wrestle dogs in love’s ear. Desire they scream as the Beat lays claim. Pick up the pieces. Proclaim; proclaim.
Rising from the ivy-draped halls of Columbia University like some crippled and drunken phoenix, the Lost Beat Heroes exploded onto a topsy-turvy, Nirvana-altered rock scene with vision, drive, and nearly complete obliviousness to the topsy-turvy, Nirvana-altered rock scene. These boys wanted to be the next E-Street Band, the next Rolling Stones, the only hindrance their almost complete inability to play their instruments. Accordingly, their 4-track demos from early days sound like bad Ramones songs filtered through a public toilet. Drummer Travis Harrison, guitarist Dan Malossi, bassist Todd Pascarella, singer/guitarist Reed Seerman, and lyricist/drunkenpop poet Joe Willie would craft hundreds of songs from 1995 to 2000, blasting all but a fraction of them into the effluvium-soaked walls of the ZBT frat house, where they likely remain today. Some songs, however, were played for people at actual venues. Most put down their drinks and skedaddled. One or two fans thought that the band was the second coming - of what, they had no idea. The band chose to listen only to the latter, and thus came to believe as well that they were destined for greatness. It was only a matter of time. Later, the band added the "final piece" in veteran blues axeman Dave Siegel and learned to actually play somewhat passably, just in time to break up. But not after leaving almost no discernible mark on the Columbia and New York City music scene! During their hobbled run, the band managed to scrape together two full-length albums, Some of the Summer Sessions and National Dirt, which were directly released into boxes somewhere in Malossi's parent's garage. If self-confidence is the real definition of success, then consider "LBH" the Beatles of the 1990s. If it's not, then don't.