My name is Vince Vaccaro. I was born in Montreal, Canada in the middle of a snowstorm,
to a Sicilian father and a French Canadian mother. One of my first conscious memories is
the sound of a vinyl record spinning and crackling right before the music starts to play.
I remember watching Chuck Berry on the television one morning, the black and white footage
was grainy and the sound was a bit hard on the young ears. Right then and there I knew that's
what I wanted to do with my life. It wasn't about making money or doing the right thing –
whatever that is – it was an honest decision I made when I was not older than six. I am a musician.
Throughout my school years I cared very little for academic grades and whatever was cool at the
time – something I still live by. I spent all my energy, all my thoughts, on submerging myself
in music. Years later, after many bands, many promising beginnings and heartbreaking crashes,
I had to stop everything. It wasn't until I gave up on my dreams that they started to appear.
It felt a little like waiting under a porch in the pouring rain and hoping that the sun would
peak through. I'd had enough. I'd been at it for about seven years with no real headway. In
those days I'd been down to California more than once trying out with bands in Los Angeles
and Huntington Beach. At home, I'd played with local boys and had some good shows, made great
music throughout, but it'd never been right; there was always somebody leaving or moving on,
splitting the band up.
I packed a few things into a borrowed backpack and headed out on a wander. I ended up in a
little town called Byron Bay, in NSW, Australia. I hitched around the coast for a few months
but eventually, sooner than I had hoped, I heard the calling again. It drove me home in a hurry
to record songs I had written while away from home, and free. The EP that resulted from those
sessions was released worldwide on iTunes in 2006 and I spent most of the year playing shows in
bars in and out of town. Pushing my music forward but trying to maintain my composure as I
began to feel more and more restless. When you live on an island, in a small city like Victoria,
BC (where I now reside), you can only get so far. I had to do something bigger than play the
same old spots and pass my humble EP around for so long.
In November of 2007, I went into the studio with Neil Osborne, of the legendary Canadian band
54-40, on a four-week session to make a full-length record. Long days and sparking guitar amps,
we made an honest record with no tricks, no fancy samples, just a couple of guys making real
music. I was smiling listening back when we were done one of the sessions. I had written one
of the songs while at a pub in my old neighborhood, sitting around the table chatting up an
old high school girlfriend. There it was playing back at me. I'd made something out of it and
it was a sort of checkmark that I'd made the right decision, or at the very least that I was
headed in the right direction.