this is a long road.... part 1

this is a long road that leads nowhere
(...and maybe I’ve got nothing left to say.)

A Brief History of the kidneythieves

From an outsider's perspective, the history of the kidneythieves is delineated, and possibly defined, by the bookends that are 'tea and apologies' and 'fake western vista'. Sad as it may seem, this may, in fact, be the case. Not possessing the objectivity that a true outsider would, the line between the ideal and the reality blur here for me.
Whether vanity, delusion, nostalgia or need for closure motivates me, I can't say for sure, but I'd like to try to expand the definition of the kidneythieves. I don't promise that my memories are concrete reality, or that others who were there would see things in the same way, but I guarantee that my interpretations are as accurate as my small brain allows. I'm also going to try to shed light onto the words I chose, again within the bounds of my recollection and perception, most of which have never been discussed in any detail, even within the band. It may be that no one cares outside of the band itself, or in fact within the band, but I will go on with the presumption that someone beside myself does care, at least to some extent. I have to...after all, that's always what it's been about...the presumption that someone is watching, someone is listening - I've always needed that audience, needed to believe that I was performing for something. That is why i was a kidneythief. That is why i, unlike others, cannot continue...cannot just play "for the fun of it". It was always about the audience, even when I occasionally deceived myself into thinking that they didn't matter, that I didn't care what the critics said, didn't care that no one was paying attention...like Tom Stoppard alluded to in Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead, when he wrote, "the play was three acts gone before we caught sight of ourselves, stripped naked in the middle of nowhere and pouring ourselves down a bottomless well..." when there is no audience, all purpose is gone.
On a basic level, 'tea and apologies' is a collection of songs about externals...about other people's issues, about society's issues, about people or things that didn't necessarily exist anywhere other than inside the heads of the people who wrote about them. Some were only vague themes that served as poor excuses to put words to music...all form and no function, a sawdust cake to coat with icing, full of description but describing nothing. From the opening chords of 'the dying season' through the pristine finale of 'salvation (dropping lemons)', this is a band seeking something but not really finding it, this is an album where the writing is the point, and not just a means to a point. This is not, in itself, a bad thing, and this album contains words that still touch me, images I can still see..."Pressing leaves at the tomb of Saint Anthony / fool dances across the marketplace, flower clenched between his teeth / think he knows his life is a comedy....dropping lemons as the people walk on by / the juggler in him smiles, knowing that he's messed up more than once today..."

At the other end of the spectrum, both temporally and thematically, is ‘fake western vista’. It remains an intensely personal collection of songs dealing with disillusionment, anger, loneliness, longing and an overwhelming need for something or someone to believe in. A direct result of, and reaction to, years spent fighting an uphill battle to maintain control and direction of a band in the face of commercial failure, growing disenchantment with the music industry and continual internal upheaval, all while trying vainly to gracefully shoulder the increasing responsibilities of the real world; family, finances and legal issues. Ultimately conceding to the seeming inevitability of failure, the song ‘endgame’ stands alone as a deliberate epitaph. Let me be as transparent as possible on this point – during the recording of ‘fake western vista’ it became clear that, for my part at least, the fight was over, I was done being continually torn in two. While half-hearted efforts were made to stop the hemorrhaging after the release of FWV and the departure of founding drummer Mike Pinchera, ‘endgame’ was specifically created to be a conclusion – anything that came after could only be considered a post-mortem.

I have no desire to end on a downbeat, so let me make it clear that, with the obvious exception of my marriage and the birth of my children, the greatest moments in my life came to me as a kidneythief.

Each cut on this collection is accompanied by notes in the track listing from Matt or I, adding background, motivation or other comments meant to give perspective wherever possible. Original lyrics are also included. A complete history is beyond the scope of this project, but I won’t rule it out under separate cover at a later date.

If I’ve neglected to say it before, thank you all for the best, and worst, ten years of my life.

Merry Christmas.

- Patrick Borrelli, Dec 6, 2006





Patrick has been talking about this project for years now. It would be an annual event around early November or so, when he would approach me – “Matt, this is the year I am going to get that audio history of the kidneythieves done. It’ll be a little Christmas present from me to everybody in the band” He barely believed himself as the words left his lips and I nodded with disbelief.

This past year things changed though and, whether inspired by the void left in his life from not performing and creating or just the internal nagging of a project incomplete, he got it done.

Several months ago Patrick told me that I would be getting involved with this on some level. I was happy to oblige his demand, though I don’t think I had a choice. My tasks here have been pretty much limited to handing over a garbage bag full of cassette tapes, representing nearly ten years of informally recorded material, and these pages of writing. This catalog represents hours upon hours of Patrick’s near-maniacal work sifting through literally weeks and weeks worth of recordings ranging from rehearsal babblings to full mock live-set recordings to working versions of forgotten songs to studio recorded music. The final product represents nearly one hundred percent Patrick’s work. I was merely along for part of the ride.

For me this process and indeed the finished product represent a chance to relive some of the experiences, situations, relationships and emotions lived through over the span of time it represents. Through these tracks I feel, again, the frustration of bandmates not feeling the same inspiration as me, the simple pleasure of laughing at stupid band jokes, the inspirational and unlikely development of music through the democratic workings of four separate and distinct individuals locked away in a room and the making of friendships that share a deeper thread of experience than could ever be anticipated.

It is these feelings that type the substantive text into the countless stories that are inevitably rehashed at each and every one of our gatherings.

Whether it is…..

Oscar standing over Patrick as he writhed in pain in the gutter of some Long Island highway telling him to “Walk it off, it’s just a cramp. Don’t be a baby….” (Patrick eventually spent the night in Winthrop Hospital in Mineola, NY and was miserable with a kidney stone for weeks)….

or Murph reading us an early review of ‘tea and apologies’ and how Patrick’s vocals are “bonoesque” only he reads it pronounced ‘es-kū ’ giving birth to a new vernacular in our language and years of ribbing for Pat for a single slip of the tongue…

or Mikey Pinch smuggling Coors Lights in his drum stick bag and sneaking sips during songs (damn, he dropped his sticks a lot!)…..

or Patrick interacting with the huge biker guys from some band from Ohio behind my father’s van at WE Fest. Big Biker Guy: “Cool Harley decal. Who rides?” Patrick: “His dad (pointing at me)” Exit Oscar and Matt stage right!

or Tom ranting angrily about monkeys in the recording studio with a venomous tone usually reserved for murderers and rapists….

or Peter’s racist tendencies and penchant towards submissive, Asian girls….

or Milt’s (Bill) squeamish wife at dinner out at our favorite Cuban restaurant – “I’ll just have a cup of coffee and some plain white rice, thanks”…..

or bumping into Darren four years after we kicked him out of the band at Happy Hour at Friday’s on Rt. 17. He walked up to us, “Hey, Matt, from the kidneythieves, right? I’m Darren. I used to play bass in the band.” Patrick asked me after Darren went on his way, “Who was that guy? You know him from work or something?” “No, he played bass for the band for three months!” …..

or that scary bald drummer guy who was actually a grandfather and attended one of our house parties with his girlfriend who attempted to get with every guy in the place. Eventually it got to the point where he felt the need to threaten some guy with a butter knife in the kitchen for talking to his woman…..

The music and lyrics of these songs, both completed and tragically incomplete, are the physical evidence of the lives we led those ten years. Though each song has its own personal life and set of both fond and bitter memories, it is the collection as a whole that makes me smile with thoughts of playing music and sharing life with my best friends.

Thanks, Patty B.

Enjoy.

- Matthew Spagnolo, January 16, 2007.

When we were thieves.....

A few years ago, i finally managed to fulfill my promise (okay, threat) to rummage through the innumerable boxes of DAT's, CD's, cassette tapes, scrawled notes, illustrated napkins, etc., and compile a comprehensive collection representing the work and history of the kidneythieves. To the elation of our tens of fans, i managed to put together a 6 disc package for release around Christmas of 2006, in no small part thanks to the assistance and encouragement of fellow kidneythief Matthew Spagnolo.

The package and its accompanying (monumental) liner notes saw limited release, predominantly to friends and family of the band, and others who contributed in some way to our success (or lack thereof). My intent was always to follow this release up with an online version of the compendium...but again, life being what it is, time passed without progress in that direction.

For the time being, and to get my head in the right place, i'll be serializing the written history in this forum, complete and unabridged (aren't you lucky.)

I expect the initial posting within a day or two, and subsequent issues to follow at similar intervals.

prepare to be bored beyond your wildest imagination....

errata ad infinitum

i haven't even begun to write, haven't once challenged this empty page...still there are already errors. grammatical, typographical, contextual....errors in intent, errors in judgement, inelegant choice of font, gutter, spacing...notenoughwhitespace or perhaps t o   o m   u c      h.

always there are errors, more than we'll likely admit. but the errors tell the real tale. the errors reveal the truth. a lifetime of errata, compiled, notated, filed away...this is the real life, this is how we live, these mistakes that shape and define us. care not for the intent. intent is vanity, intent is unsure perception, script not acted, words not chosen, thoughts not coalesced...these things are intent, these gossamer phantasms that would cloak all that is real.


intent has been slowing me lately. i forget how to write, how to think without constraint, without convention. in an effort to stir the fetid waters of my mind i'll be creating here, in the round as it were, as frequently as reality permits. i always did love an audience. watch, don't watch...just so long as i have the impression that there's someone out there....another pair of eyes, someone to validate that i do, in fact, exist.