Todd McLaughlin

It all began a dark day in 1979. Jimmy Carter was in office. Pittsburgh had itself both a Super Bowl and World Series title. The Duke was dead. Timeless acts like The Village People, The Bee Gees, Gloria Gaynor, and Donna Summer ruled the airwaves. Thanks to Saturday Night Fever disco had made a comeback but was now on its way out. And I was on my way in.
Total liar.
I don't remember much for quite awhile after that. But I do remember being a young kid living in various towns along the West Coast overhearing my parent's Peter, Paul, and Mary records. My mom would rock the Neil Diamond every so often. My older sister was partial to Wham! and Quiet Riot. With my brother I remember hearing Bob Marley for the first time. And me, I enjoyed the Care Bears musical tribute to insulting young children's intelligence. (Bears that live in the clouds? What a load of crap. How could you betray me Funshine Bear?)
Eventually I got to Jr. High. My parents bought me my first stereo. It came with thrilling renditions of all your favorite Broadway classics. I think my first two cds were by U2 and Van Halen. I listened to the radio. I watched just about every member of my family begin and quit taking piano lessons.
Beards. and they know how to use them.
Finally at 16, instead of getting a car like most of the spoiled brats I grew up with, I got a shiny new guitar. So I played it until my fingers really hurt. I took about 5 lessons from a 50-year-old man with a pony tail. He just liked to show me that he was capable of playing long protracted solos and didn't really do much teaching. I remember he accused me of being on drugs once. I was not hip to his groovy jive-speak. I left and put down the guitar for a few weeks, until I realized that you don't have to look like ZZ-Top to play guitar. And that, in fact, you didn't have to look like anything. So I shaved my knee length beard and sold my precious ZZ-Roadster.
Cool dudes.
My identity crisis continued as I listened to some really bad music and tried to emulate it for the next few years. I played in bands that ranged from guys who didn't know how to play instruments to guys that could actually play instruments. Some even loved their instruments. I remember one in particular had a strangely peculiar smelling bass case. But I digress.
Eventually, I heard the music of Cat Stevens. Then Simon and Garfunkel. Then Nick Drake. And even Peter Paul and Mary again. And I thought, "Wow that's cool. I'd, much rather be doing that."
So I am.