The Foundlings Welcome You To Their Doorstep. Step Right In!

The Foundlings are coming- 
Thrashing the blues, 
Jazzing the folk, 
Rocking the country. 
American made, internationally forged. 

Two years doesn't lessen the pain.  We miss you, Rocketeer.

Two years doesn't lessen the pain. We miss you, Rocketeer.

“Record Company Blues” 

-Ken Dunckley 

About ten or fifteen years ago, I remember reading an article in the Wall Street Journal that claimed record companies during the late '90s were trying to hatch a plan by which compact discs could be fixed with expiration dates. This plan emerged in the wake of Napster's growing success with their file-sharing software, leaving the record industry scrambling to adjust to a perceived loss of revenue but lost steam when Metallica sued that company out of business. Since then, sales of CDs and other hard copies of music have fallen to such a degree that by 2014, the only pop music recording artist in the US to have a platinum album (meaning sales of over a million units) was Taylor Swift. The outlook for the CD's continued existence seems doleful yet vinyl has made an unexpected comeback at the same time. This comeback isn't enough to change the fortunes of the record industry but it suggests an odd trend: Why would the consumer put up money for albums on vinyl rather than digital formats that are easier to find, and in many cases available for free? 

I pondered this question while reading an article by a European record executive who reported that CDs are still huge sellers in Germany and Japan. Apparently, 85% of music sales in Japan are comprised of CD formats while Germany boasts 700 CD retail outlets that are regularly frequented by consumers. This article was from 2014, the same year that the aforementioned Ms. Swift scored her platinum album in the States. The author's contention was that CDs still sell and would still turn a profit had the American recording industry not turned its back on them. The buzzword right now is on streaming and the sites that provide it, like Spotify, are apparently the future of music. 

I call B.S. 

I still buys CDs. I don't buy vinyl because the albums are overpriced and I haven't had a turntable since I was 15. I distinctly remember putting away my vinyl when I got a CD player for my 18th birthday. In that three year span, I listened to cassettes (remember them?) and bought both formats well into my twenties. I still have both to this day largely because I have a medium on which to play them (it's a Sony boombox purchased from Amazon) and because most of them are still playable-which I can't say about most of my vinyl, sadly. The other reason for playing them is their portability. Open my car and you'll be sure to have CDs spill onto you if you open the glove compartment. Even after acquiring an iPod last year, I've continued to purchase at least 20 CDs a year outside of any downloads from iTunes and similar sites. 

This behavior flies in the face of current industry marketing strategies and I know whom the culprit is: teenagers. Once viewed as the cash-cow demographic for the entertainment industry, teenagers are directly responsible for its ailing health. I teach high school and not a single one of my students has said that they pay for music over the past five years that I've been asking this question. About half admit that they illegally download movies, sometimes before a movie even comes out. These post-Napster children are being courted by clueless record companies who wonder why sales are down when the target audience has been conditioned to think that file sharing without compensation is the norm. It's flogging not just a dead horse but using a noodle as the whip. 

It seems to me that the record industry's woes are a result of pursuing the wrong audience. People who grew up with vinyl and compact discs are hardwired to want something tangible as part of their musical purchase. Remember when CDs came in ridiculously long boxes because record companies feared that the consumer would feel shafted in buying a disc a quarter the size of a record album but cost a few dollars more? Their fears proved unwarranted. Having something to unwrap satisfies the consumption need-the rest is up to the quality of the music. Baby boomers and Gen Xers are also a demographic that has this silly idea that music is something that one has to pay for and coincidentally, tend to have more disposable income than today's teens. 

Just something to think about...

“Simply Mad About the Maus” 

-Ken Dunckley 

One of the ways in which I waste time (that could more productively be used to advance humanity) is to watch YouTube. It's addictive and in its early years was highly educational in making long-forgotten clips of departed stars available for the first time in decades. Then cellphones made home video clips ubiquitous, Google bought the site and now I can't watch a 30-second joke from George Carlin without watching a 2-minute ad for Cialis first. 

One of the recent ads I've seen involves a series of online courses featuring any number of successful people like Steve Martin, James Patterson, and David Mamet teaching their particular craft. For signing up, and I'm assuming shelling out a fee, the viewer can partake of the featured performer/artist's pearls of wisdom and gain access to their work routine, thought process, artistic philosophy, etc. The other day I spotted one of these online courses taught by the EDM DJ known as deadmau5 ( pronounced “dead mouse”) in what can only be described as product placement for Apple and ProTools. Deadmau5 gets his name from an oversized metal mouse head that he wears in concert. 

I'm not going on a tirade about dance music here, or electronically synthesized music, or why acoustic music is somehow more “authentic.” What I am going to rant about is a sentiment that Dave Grohl summed up nicely a few years ago in Rolling Stone magazine: “When did DJs become rock stars?” He was referring to not only deadmau5 but also other performers such as Skrillex and Marshmello. These performers routinely play EDM festivals throughout the world with a laptop, sometimes a rack of albums to scratch on their turntable, and a multimedia presentation of lights and images to accompany their music. Audiences shell out hundreds of dollars to basically trip out on Extacy for few hours while the DJ provides the soundtrack. 

I hate it. Obviously. 

I can hear the trolls out there now. I'm cantankerous, I'm old school, I'm tied down to the past. My closed mind and traditional values are weighing me down and preventing me from enjoying the experience. Some erudite defenders of these performers will contend that they are producers first and performers second, much like the great composers of the past, sequestered away on a computer rather than a piano. It's absolute music, without agenda or History buffs will point out that even the Beatles, Stevie Wonder, and Rush used synthesizers and studio tricks in their music, so what's the difference? If Kraftwerk was doing it 40 years ago, why isn't it acceptable now? Giorgio Moroder did this with some of Donna Summer's biggest hits, why not slam him? Where would hip-hop be without sampling and keyboard triggers? We wouldn't have the Beastie Boys, A Tribe Called Quest, or Public Enemy without these tools so why can't EDM expand upon it? Any number of EDM acts like Enigma have been popular in dance halls and discotheques since the 90s. 

My response is, they weren't playing festivals. They also hired musicians to play music that they sampled or manipulated to achieve their sound. Acts like the Beasties, PE, and Quest actually could play their own instruments and used the technology of the time to alter it and expedite its production. In this regard, they were no different than the Beatles, Pink Floyd, or Jimi Hendrix. 

Fair enough. I still hate it. I hate it because, as Henry Rollins observed in one of his speaking engagements, these DJs show up at their shows with a light show and a rack of albums of OTHER PEOPLE'S MUSIC and charge ridiculous sums of money for people to hear them chop it up. Because they're... y'know-"artists." In some cases, the turntables are merely props and the only effort the DJ expends is to press buttons on his computer while pumping his fist in the air. There is no real improvisation, the music is synthetic, the drugs are synthetic, the experience is synthetic. Plus, and this is the worst part: there aren't any guitars. 

Now get off my lawn.

Happy Birthday, Pat Nestor.  We miss you every day.  Rock N Roll Heaven's gain is our loss.

Happy Birthday, Pat Nestor. We miss you every day. Rock N Roll Heaven's gain is our loss.

CEAD MILE FAILTE!!!

Happy St. Patrick's Day from the Foundlings!

Click on the Celtic Knot!!  Go on, awready!

CEAD MILE FAILTE!!!

Happy St. Patrick's Day from the Foundlings!

Click on the Celtic Knot!! Go on, awready!

Happy New Year

from the Foundlings!!!

It's been a year-

In Memoriam 

Patrick Nestor, Jr. was the first person to ever quote me anywhere. It was in college when he worked for the school newspaper and I was vice-president of the Concert Committee. The last gig that I promoted and worked was for the blues-rock guitarist Jeff Healey, a personal coup for me after years of new wave and alternative rock that always had campus appeal but personally was far from my taste. After covering the gig, Pat asked me to comment on the concert and I told him the truth: “It was the best concert we've ever put on since I've been here.” Direct quote. 
That was Pat's style. Direct, to-the-point, unvarnished. He didn't mince words and didn't waste time on small talk. He was always too busy. When our paths crossed many years later through Facebook, I came to appreciate his strange humor, his tireless devotion to the Mets and the Giants and the Islanders, his pranks on the unsuspecting, his arcane knowledge of things that most people just didn't give a damn about but his enthusiasm generated your own. His passion and lust for life was contagious. Direct. Unwavering. Steady. 
He had to be a drummer. Anyone that reliable, that dedicated, that persistent, what other instrument would suffice? He played in bands for the pure joy of music and I often engaged in online conversations with him about bands, genres, equipment, gigs. They were always comprehensive-he and I were both writers and English majors, so every response to any question took an essay form. Always intense, piercing, dedicated. There was no fluff. 
He was fierce, in a composed, quiet way. His gaze took in everything, especially when he thought you weren't looking at him. Curious people are interesting people and he was always curious. If something made no sense to him, or displeased him, his mouth would curl in a frown and his brow would furrow like a ziggurat. It said more than any mere words. He wasn't dour, though, and his warped humor manifested in the practical jokes he would play, his love of Halloween and horror films, the hilarious transcriptions of conversations with his sons that he would post on Facebook, illustrating the bizarre world bubbling just under the veneer of middle-class suburbanite life he projected. If you could make him laugh, he flashed a look that conspired with you and made you feel as if you were now a member of an elite club. If you were his friend, he let you know it. Reliably. 
About a year ago, I began a musical project to record and release a record. I had worked on demos for decades and finally felt confident enough to lay down tracks for this debut. Most of the vocals and instruments I was capable of handling by myself but I needed a drummer. Pat responded to my Facebook post regarding my situation, offering to help me out. Despite being a baseball coach, playing in an established cover band, working six days a week and tending to his wife and three sons, he thought enough of me and my music to spend his time on it. And drummers know a thing about time. 
All through last winter, he brought his kit over and spent hours helping me shape songs that I had labored over for years, turning them into polished tunes. He wasn't just the drummer, he helped with arrangements, textures, melodic phrasing-he had a unique way of voicing criticism that guided the music into a greater aesthetic. At one point, he kidded me for being the only person he knew who could make a drum machine screw up the beat. Songs that I was ready and willing to quit on, he transformed into compositions that sounded brand new. He did this for a few beers and some pizza and the sheer joy of making music. 
When I felt ready to play these songs to a live audience, Pat reprised his drum role. (Cue hi-hat. It's a musician joke.) His deep experience with performing and presentation molded and shaped our set. When I was unsure which song to open with or close out the show, he piloted me through, encouraging me to have faith in my material, restoring confidence when I thought my vocals were shaky or my time was off. Steady. Direct. Unwavering. 
The last time I saw him was at our most recent gig. He had complained of a recurring headache that had nagged him for two weeks but he still insisted on playing the show. “When I play, I don't feel any pain,” he told me. Any musician knows this is truth but he lived it. The show went on, as it does, and he played like a rock star. 
Less than a week later, he suffered a cardiac episode driving home from work and ended up on life support. His timing finally failed him. He didn't make it. I feel like a knife has stabbed me in the gut. In the short year we were bandmates, I'd grown used to following his pulse and now it's gone. There is a crowd-funding site dedicated to helping his family in this dire time listed below. If you can, please help. His passing has thrown off too much of our rhythm. It will take me a while before I find my groove again. He was that steady. That direct. 
Pat Nestor was 46 years old.

A year ago changed our lives. We remember. RIP Patrick Nestor.

A year ago changed our lives. We remember. RIP Patrick Nestor.

Still True...

Still True...

The fact that there’s a Highway To Hell but only a Stairway To Heaven says a lot about anticipated traffic numbers.

Warming up at the Village Pub 9-29-17

Warming up at the Village Pub 9-29-17

UPDATE!!!

UPDATE!!!

Site of our electric debut, the Foundlings are thrilled to return to Village Pub in Lindenhurst end of September!

Site of our electric debut, the Foundlings are thrilled to return to Village Pub in Lindenhurst end of September!

Another pic from LaLas

Another pic from LaLas

Throwback Thursday-Candid shot of me playing at Freedom Fair last Memorial Day weekend 2016

Throwback Thursday-Candid shot of me playing at Freedom Fair last Memorial Day weekend 2016

Here's a favorite. Guess why...?

Here's a favorite. Guess why...?

We will never forget our fallen brother. Miss you always, Pat.

We will never forget our fallen brother. Miss you always, Pat.

Truth

Truth

Just a thought

Just a thought

Reeling and rocking even unto death.
RIP Chuck Berry-Architect of rock N roll

Reeling and rocking even unto death. RIP Chuck Berry-Architect of rock N roll

Kenny rocking KJ Farrell's

Kenny rocking KJ Farrell's

Jamming on Connected Radio with Patty Dodge back in December!

Jamming on Connected Radio with Patty Dodge back in December!

Greg Botty holding it down

Greg Botty holding it down

He's probably over-qualified

He's probably over-qualified

Always plotting the next move here on the Foundlings' website

Always plotting the next move here on the Foundlings' website

We're coming to your doorstep again very soon...

We're coming to your doorstep again very soon...

Please join us for a tribute and benefit in honor of our late friend and bandmate Pat Nestor.

Please join us for a tribute and benefit in honor of our late friend and bandmate Pat Nestor.

Jimmy and Kenny performing at Pat NEstor's benefit show Saturday, Jan. 28th.  We miss you every day, brother.

Jimmy and Kenny performing at Pat NEstor's benefit show Saturday, Jan. 28th. We miss you every day, brother.

Jimmy and Kenny jamming on Connected radio with Patty Dodge 12/29/16.

Jimmy and Kenny jamming on Connected radio with Patty Dodge 12/29/16.

http://mixlr.com/village-connection-radio/showreel/ 
Click the above link to hear the audio of our appearance on Connected Radio with Patty Dodge last December!
THIS THURSDAY, 12/29/16!!  9-10pm with Patty Dodge!

THIS THURSDAY, 12/29/16!! 9-10pm with Patty Dodge!

http://indiemusicspin.com/thefoundlingsqueenofbrokenhearts/
Click the above link to read a review of our song "Queen O' (Broken) Hearts" by Jacqueline Jax
 
When I listen to his music, I appreciate his ability to work a rhythm into common life concepts.”

Jacqueline Jax

In memoriam.  RIP, our dear friend and band mate Patrick Nestor, Jr.

In memoriam. RIP, our dear friend and band mate Patrick Nestor, Jr.

Please pray, meditate, or send good vibes for my drummer and friend Pat Nestor who suffered a horrific stroke Monday night.  He has a wife and three sons watching over him on life support and we all need a miracle.

Please pray, meditate, or send good vibes for my drummer and friend Pat Nestor who suffered a horrific stroke Monday night. He has a wife and three sons watching over him on life support and we all need a miracle.

We're on your doorstep...

We're on your doorstep...

Gather your wits together from Halloween because the Foundlings are doing a showcase at KJ Farrell's in Bellmore. It may be All Saints' Day but the sinners are welcome, too!

Gather your wits together from Halloween because the Foundlings are doing a showcase at KJ Farrell's in Bellmore. It may be All Saints' Day but the sinners are welcome, too!

Just added an acoustic show for tomorrow! Come on down and party!

Just added an acoustic show for tomorrow! Come on down and party!

First band rehearsal for upcoming debut!

First band rehearsal for upcoming debut!

Record Company Blues 

Another article I wrote for ACES Magazine:

“Record Company Blues” 

-Ken Dunckley 

About ten or fifteen years ago, I remember reading an article in the Wall Street Journal that claimed record companies during the late '90s were trying to hatch a plan by which compact discs could be fixed with expiration dates. This plan emerged in the wake of Napster's growing success with their file-sharing software, leaving the record industry scrambling to adjust to a perceived loss of revenue but lost steam when Metallica sued that company out of business. Since then, sales of CDs and other hard copies of music have fallen to such a degree that by 2014, the only pop music recording artist in the US to have a platinum album (meaning sales of over a million units) was Taylor Swift. The outlook for the CD's continued existence seems doleful yet vinyl has made an unexpected comeback at the same time. This comeback isn't enough to change the fortunes of the record industry but it suggests an odd trend: Why would the consumer put up money for albums on vinyl rather than digital formats that are easier to find, and in many cases available for free? 

I pondered this question while reading an article by a European record executive who reported that CDs are still huge sellers in Germany and Japan. Apparently, 85% of music sales in Japan are comprised of CD formats while Germany boasts 700 CD retail outlets that are regularly frequented by consumers. This article was from 2014, the same year that the aforementioned Ms. Swift scored her platinum album in the States. The author's contention was that CDs still sell and would still turn a profit had the American recording industry not turned its back on them. The buzzword right now is on streaming and the sites that provide it, like Spotify, are apparently the future of music. 

I call B.S. 

I still buys CDs. I don't buy vinyl because the albums are overpriced and I haven't had a turntable since I was 15. I distinctly remember putting away my vinyl when I got a CD player for my 18th birthday. In that three year span, I listened to cassettes (remember them?) and bought both formats well into my twenties. I still have both to this day largely because I have a medium on which to play them (it's a Sony boombox purchased from Amazon) and because most of them are still playable-which I can't say about most of my vinyl, sadly. The other reason for playing them is their portability. Open my car and you'll be sure to have CDs spill onto you if you open the glove compartment. Even after acquiring an iPod last year, I've continued to purchase at least 20 CDs a year outside of any downloads from iTunes and similar sites. 

This behavior flies in the face of current industry marketing strategies and I know whom the culprit is: teenagers. Once viewed as the cash-cow demographic for the entertainment industry, teenagers are directly responsible for its ailing health. I teach high school and not a single one of my students has said that they pay for music over the past five years that I've been asking this question. About half admit that they illegally download movies, sometimes before a movie even comes out. These post-Napster children are being courted by clueless record companies who wonder why sales are down when the target audience has been conditioned to think that file sharing without compensation is the norm. It's flogging not just a dead horse but using a noodle as the whip. 

It seems to me that the record industry's woes are a result of pursuing the wrong audience. People who grew up with vinyl and compact discs are hardwired to want something tangible as part of their musical purchase. Remember when CDs came in ridiculously long boxes because record companies feared that the consumer would feel shafted in buying a disc a quarter the size of a record album but cost a few dollars more? Their fears proved unwarranted. Having something to unwrap satisfies the consumption need-the rest is up to the quality of the music. Baby boomers and Gen Xers are also a demographic that has this silly idea that music is something that one has to pay for and coincidentally, tend to have more disposable income than today's teens. 

Just something to think about...

Reposted from my article in ACES Magazine 

"Vibrations" 

-Ken Dunckley 

Vibration: “PHYSICS -an oscillation of the parts of a fluid or an elastic solid whose equilibrium has been disturbed, or of an electromagnetic wave.” 

At some point in his career, a musician should pursue the fundamentals not just of his techniques, tone, and performance but also the underpinnings of how other disciplines affect his/her vocation. I don't know when my interest in physics occurred (I was always terrible at math) though I'm convinced it began about the same time that I became interested in guitar tones. Electric guitars are great for beginners because if you find any kind of amplifier, you can bash out “Smoke On the Water” in roughly fifteen minutes. This was my initial attraction to the instrument. 

Once my interest turned into a passion, however, the science behind tone became more intriguing. Most guitarists who have played long enough to develop opinions about other guitarists all have that terrible memory of hearing their playing and their tone the way others hear it. Nothing is more humbling than the realization that the sound generating from your amp- which you thought was the second coming of Hendrix or Clapton or Van Halen- actually sounds like killer bees trapped in a transistor radio. 

But I digress. We were talking about vibrations. 

In trying to improve my guitar tone, I began to pay attention to articles and columns in guitar and music magazines in which the physics behind the interaction of guitar and amplifier was delineated. In the most simplistic way (and I mean the MOST simplistic way) to explain it, the sound coming out of anything is generated by vibrations. When these vibrations reach the human ear, some of them are interpreted as sound waves and these waves are processed as either noise or...well, whatever the opposite of noise is. The difference between Stevie Ray Vaughan's blistering tone and another player's screeching feedback is all in how the vibrations between air molecules collide. In the hands of Jeff Beck or Jimi Hendrix, we perceive it as music. In the hands of a sullen 13-year old, it is grounds for banishment to the garage. 

The more bits and pieces I garnered about physics' influence on sound (and thus music), the better a musician I became, and more importantly, the better a human being I became (I hope). These scientific principles have such impact that we even casually refer to them in any interaction where we pick up a “vibe.” Policemen use it to catch criminals, musicians rely on it to set a mood, the average person uses it to size up a stranger. Brian Wilson wrote one of his best songs about the phenomenon. The more deeply I understood this concept, the more the applications went beyond the physical. Learning about vibrations led me to understand Hertz and frequencies since any guitar tuner is useless without them. At the basic atomic level, everything is vibrating. 

So here is where the philosophical aspect of vibrations comes into play. Everything produces its own vibration but it's the interaction and relationships between them that move the universe. When they combine in forms that we perceive as pleasurable, we consider it harmony. Except...my music professor in college would have called that concordance. Discord, as it turns out, is also a form of harmony. It is simply a matter of vibration how we determine whether something is in key or out of tune but all of it is based on a learned preconception of what we think sounds “good.” 

Metaphysically speaking, this means that all of us produce our own vibrations and whether we create concord or discord with other people's vibrations is largely up to each of us. It is the space between the notes that really makes the music and those notes are all caused by vibrations. So, if you encounter someone who is committed to causing you discord, alter the frequency of your “vibe” and if that doesn't work, change the space between your vibrations. Perhaps it will lead to more harmonious relations, perhaps not. Try it, regardless. 

You might end up making beautiful music together. 

Or you might end up in the garage with a sullen 13-year old but hey, at least you tried!

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    In Memoriam 

    Patrick Nestor, Jr. was the first person to ever quote me anywhere. It was in college when he worked for the school newspaper and I was vice-president of the Concert Committee. The last gig that I promoted and worked was for the blues-rock guitarist Jeff Healey, a personal coup for me after years of new wave and alternative rock that always had campus appeal but personally was far from my taste. After covering the gig, Pat asked me to comment on the concert and I told him the truth: “It was the best concert we've ever put on since I've been here.” Direct quote. 

    That was Pat's style. Direct, to-the-point, unvarnished. He didn't mince words and didn't waste time on small talk. He was always too busy. When our paths crossed many years later through Facebook, I came to appreciate his strange humor, his tireless devotion to the Mets and the Giants and the Islanders, his pranks on the unsuspecting, his arcane knowledge of things that most people just didn't give a damn about but his enthusiasm generated your own. His passion and lust for life was contagious. Direct. Unwavering. Steady. 

    He had to be a drummer. Anyone that reliable, that dedicated, that persistent, what other instrument would suffice? He played in bands for the pure joy of music and I often engaged in online conversations with him about bands, genres, equipment, gigs. They were always comprehensive-he and I were both writers and English majors, so every response to any question took an essay form. Always intense, piercing, dedicated. There was no fluff. 

    He was fierce, in a composed, quiet way. His gaze took in everything, especially when he thought you weren't looking at him. Curious people are interesting people and he was always curious. If something made no sense to him, or displeased him, his mouth would curl in a frown and his brow would furrow like a ziggurat. It said more than any mere words. He wasn't dour, though, and his warped humor manifested in the practical jokes he would play, his love of Halloween and horror films, the hilarious transcriptions of conversations with his sons that he would post on Facebook, illustrating the bizarre world bubbling just under the veneer of middle-class suburbanite life he projected. If you could make him laugh, he flashed a look that conspired with you and made you feel as if you were now a member of an elite club. If you were his friend, he let you know it. Reliably. 

    About a year ago, I began a musical project to record and release a record. I had worked on demos for decades and finally felt confident enough to lay down tracks for this debut. Most of the vocals and instruments I was capable of handling by myself but I needed a drummer. Pat responded to my Facebook post regarding my situation, offering to help me out. Despite being a baseball coach, playing in an established cover band, working six days a week and tending to his wife and three sons, he thought enough of me and my music to spend his time on it. And drummers know a thing about time. 

    All through last winter, he brought his kit over and spent hours helping me shape songs that I had labored over for years, turning them into polished tunes. He wasn't just the drummer, he helped with arrangements, textures, melodic phrasing-he had a unique way of voicing criticism that guided the music into a greater aesthetic. At one point, he kidded me for being the only person he knew who could make a drum machine screw up the beat. Songs that I was ready and willing to quit on, he transformed into compositions that sounded brand new. He did this for a few beers and some pizza and the sheer joy of making music. 

    When I felt ready to play these songs to a live audience, Pat reprised his drum role. (Cue hi-hat. It's a musician joke.) His deep experience with performing and presentation molded and shaped our set. When I was unsure which song to open with or close out the show, he piloted me through, encouraging me to have faith in my material, restoring confidence when I thought my vocals were shaky or my time was off. Steady. Direct. Unwavering. 

    The last time I saw him was at our most recent gig. He had complained of a recurring headache that had nagged him for two weeks but he still insisted on playing the show. “When I play, I don't feel any pain,” he told me. Any musician knows this is truth but he lived it. The show went on, as it does, and he played like a rock star. 

    Less than a week later, he suffered a cardiac episode driving home from work and ended up on life support. His timing finally failed him. He didn't make it. I feel like a knife has stabbed me in the gut. In the short year we were bandmates, I'd grown used to following his pulse and now it's gone. There is a crowd-funding site dedicated to helping his family in this dire time listed below. If you can, please help. His passing has thrown off too much of our rhythm. It will take me a while before I find my groove again. He was that steady. That direct. 

    Pat Nestor was 46 years old. 

    https://www.gofundme.com/please-support-the-nestor-family