So, Welterweight is a folk band, but not really. It’s a rock band, but only a smidge. An originals band, but not all the time. A satisfying cover band, maybe, sometimes. Sitting in the audience, you might find yourself thinking “huh, I know that song, don’t I? Yup, it’s that one, I think…hmm, not bad!” Not bad, indeed…thoughtful, catchy originals and re-interpretations of good songs gone by.
Welterweight exists in the world of not-quite-adult oriented music. Maybe “hard soft rock” is a better description. Or possibly “new timey”, using traditional string instrumentation, around the non-traditional songs of memory, longing, and lots of dumb decisions. “A little alienation, some arthritis, and the creeping of creature comforts as we try to grow up.”
lead vocal, guitar, songwriter
My favorite musical object is a 60’s Gibson B-15 student acoustic guitar, “loaned” to me by my brother who took it as payment for a bar tab from his establishment in Seattle, Murphy’s Pub. This thing is made from questionable tone-woods, has nearly- frozen machine head tuners, and a neck as thin as a chopstick. My fat fingers can’t form a proper, unadulterated chord on it, and the projection is that of a stifled yawn. In my infinite wisdom, I drilled a hole in this antique to put in a cheap pickup, bringing it’s street value to that of a three shot latte, and tying us at the hip ‘til one of us needs a neck reset. It does sound like wood, though…
stand up bass, backing vocals
Dad said no to drums – he didn’t want the noise. The poor, sweet man didn’t understand about amplifiers. Instead, my big sister and her beautiful friend suggested electric bass. How could I refuse? Also, amplified, it was LOUD. My bass teacher hated the music I loved, but loved me. He gently urged me to try the upright, and eventually sold me one for a song. I couldn't believe it: This thing made the greatest sound I’d ever heard. Still, it was a bit quiet. For years I led a double life: Ear splitting rocker on Saturday night; acoustic bass devotee on Sunday morning. After our daughter was born, I made a choice that turned out to be surprisingly easy. Now I only play the instrument I love. What a beast. What a sound. I’m so glad that dad said no to drums.
percussion, backing vocals
It’s true, English people drink a lot of tea. My mother used to use it as some kind of strange medicine when we were growing up. It could pretty much fix any ailment or reconcile any problem. I have continued to avail myself to its mystical properties through most of my life, often used in conjunction with marmite and crumpets for best effect. On a good day, it fuels my creativity, keeps my metronome ticking and makes the world a better place. On a bad day…it still tastes pretty good! The irony is not lost on me that I should end up living close to that famous harbor that still holds many British tea chests and that I end up playing an instrument based on one. It’s a funny old world!
violin, backing vocals
I fell in love with the violin at age 6 – or maybe I fell in love with the violin’s red velvet case lining. Classically trained, I’ve been making old ladies cry in church for 19 years. I met Greg in early 2014 through a craigslist ad and was introduced to the rest of the group. I immediately took pity on their lack of collective head hair, and decided to try my hand at hard-soft rock. At almost every gig, you’ll find my dad flash-video recording us, my husband requesting "Mr. Rabbit," (my most detested song), my mom calling repeatedly for us to play one last song, and me taking full advantage of being allowed to play music while drinking a beer, something highly frowned upon in orchestras.
mandolin, backing vocals
It's been said a child at age seven is a window to the adult they'll become. Well with savings in hand and seven years under my belt, I got around to buying my first albums: Men at Work -Cargo and Prince -Around the World in 80 Days. I'm pretty sure I had some change left over to buy a few stickers too. Now of all the things K-mart had to offer a seven year old, I couldn't tell you what spell the cassette aisle had on me, but thats where I was to be found. Countless albums, genres, and oddities have passed through these hands since and I'm excited to hear what's next. And maybe I'll find room on the case for another sticker.
With no musical training to note, Miss Harriet has been called the glue of the gang...the straw that stirs the drink...the hub of the instrumental spokes of the Welterweight wheel. Greeting each member of the band as they enter rehearsal, she requires them to leave the troubles of the day at the door, then tries to sneak out of it. While the canine collaborator is a tough taskmaster, licking the band into shape around arrangement and preparation, she declines attendance at live performances, keeping with the mythic iconoclastic nature like musical brethren Rick Rubin and Phil Spector.