The Sam Chase has a voice like a Nun on the lam with a mouthful cigarettes and curse words in a lonely bar, drunkenly dancing next to a broken jukebox. His songs are scribbled, not written, on lipstick and sweat stained motel bedsheets because he likes the way the ink bleeds. His guitar runs on diesel and leaks like the morning after too much Whiskey. His is a show you’ll probably want to tattoo on your body so everyone will know that you knew him before he was cool.

His backing band, The Untraditional, are descended from Norse Warriors known as The Berserkers. Old Norse literature and historians note that Berserkers fought with an uncontrollable, trance-like fury. They would work themselves into a rage before battle, consuming drugged foods, and dressed in nothing but their enemies blood. The Untraditional follow their ancestors ancient practices before every show.

Little is known about the night he was conceived because, frankly it is nobodies damn business. However, there are at least two people who had the foresight to procreate at just the right moment, when all of those dimly lit specs of light in the sky held a position just long enough to time stamp a genetic code and shoot it down from the cold, empty heavens to create another poor soul, destined to live and die out here on this cold rock, twirling violently in the vast emptiness of space.

Then he was born. He should have been born at the top of a mountain during a lightning storm. Where he actually was born was incredibly un-exciting so let’s all pretend that he was born on the top of a mountain during a lightning storm. It is good to start your life story with an epic moment, even if it is entirely fabricated.

He began to write music at the age of 14. He still has every scrap of paper he scribbled his terrible lyrics on and on occasion can even recall the infantile melodies and riffs that accompanied them.