Walking about Tallinn Estonia one warm afternoon, Drew came upon a band of gypsies busking in front of an old castle. They were playing Black Magic Woman and they encouraged him to sing for them, because Santana sounded just bloody awful in Finno-Hungarian. It didn't really matter because he didn't know the lyrics anyway-but they didn't know that. The best tip of the day was a block of cheese.
AJ spent his adult, mating years busking in and around Mongolia and built yurts from ancient whale bones and yak hide to throw down StreetJelly shows for the throngs of nomads who followed him religiously across the roof of the earth. They called him Tömörbataar. A lofty name to be sure, it means "Great White Hun with Guitar". He still keeps in touch with them today.
A young be-tuxed Drew playing guitar on The Theme To The Pink Panther with his grade-school ensemble for a bunch of nuns from The Sisters Of Mercy.
AJ cannot feel embarrassment because he is able to remove his mind from his body, like those monks who can dry sheets by thinking real hard.
“You made my heart sing.”
“Thanks for playing my song.”
“I bow to your Godliness.”
“Here kid, buy yourself something.”