From South Buffalo to the Bay: Part 3 of 3

If you're just joining us, part two covered how Dethbed actually came together: Rick, Ace, War Prayer, Bleed the Freaks, and the rotating cast of guys who built this thing session by session. Read Part Two first → Picking up from there:

From Session Players to a Real Band

Troy, Chris, and Dugan all came in strictly as session players at first, guys who'd track parts in the studio and go back to their own lives. That changed when Chris offered to actually rehearse and play live with us whenever his schedule with Shark in the Water allowed it, which is really the moment this stopped being just a recording project and started being an actual band again. It's changed some for Troy too, we still play 'One More' together at jam nights when we can pull it off, a couple of times just in the last six months, and I've already put it out there that I'm hoping to do it again soon. Dugan's story starts somewhere you wouldn't expect. His son Dylan was a coworker of mine, not just an easy guy to be around but a super positive spirit, which tells you everything about the job Dugan did raising him. We spent our days out helping families harness the power of the sun to wipe out most of their electricity bill. He mentioned his dad played guitar too, and not long after, I caught a snippet of Dugan jamming with some other folks and figured he'd be great to freestyle with, so we brought him into Shine On Studio, where he laid guitar over some tracks we'd already been working on and completely fit in, perfect vibrations for what we do. When we went back in to record for real, I asked him to lay down the lead guitar tracks, and he did. He even came out for the video shoot later that year, positive vibes and creative guitar playing that just flows, every time.

Ace has been the structure guy ever since I've known him. That's never changed. What has changed is how seriously we've ever taken any of it. Honestly, we never really have, not in the career sense. This has always been about the love of life and the love of music first, everything else a distant second, and I think that's exactly why it's lasted as long as it has.

Connor Dector's the newest proof of that. We met either at a jam night or a karaoke night, honestly I can't remember which. We just agreed we should get together and see if we could write something good. Turns out we could. He joined us on drums on May 30, 2026, and we hit it off immediately, writing a handful of songs together in a short amount of time.

He's also picked up a couple of songs from our eight-song release and made them better, in my opinion. Both Ace and I have noticed some extra aggression and punk rock style in them that wasn't there before, real raw energy. He's got his own signature style on the kit that's given that material something new. Connor's also the lead vocalist for Vile Act, which puts on a scary but entertaining live show. One look and you might expect something out of Saw, but what you actually get is Connor's genuinely great singing voice. If you're ever at the Back Lounge on a Wednesday night, Connor's the one running the karaoke.

Where We Are Now

If there's one person who deserves more credit than he's gotten so far in this series, it's Curran Evans. Despite the two-hour drive down from Lincoln, California, Curran has been one of the most critical pieces of this band since we started playing together in 2019, when he was part of Medic Sun alongside Rick and Ace, back when that project was mostly writing and recording rather than playing shows. Roughly 90 percent of our time together since then has been spent writing and recording, since that's what this band has always been about first. We'd love to play more live shows than we currently do, and that's a big part of why this blog exists: to find hungry, like-minded musicians who want to join us on stage, help us perform the songs off our eight-song EP, and keep writing new music together.

From the very first time we played together, it was clear he's a talented musician who plays with real feel and is easy to write with, and his strengths and Ace's strengths complement mine, and that's made all the difference. Curran is a big part of why Ace and I have been empowered to actually stand on a stage playing music written from our own hearts, as one band. We wrote the song ":-)" at his place up in Lincoln back in 2019, with Ace there too, Curran behind the drums that day, even though these days he's usually on the bass. He's a genuine multi-instrumentalist who, it turns out, can sing too, and I lean on him for backing vocals every chance I get.

Curran is currently one of four guys rehearsing with Dethbed. Chris Lujan's schedule with Shark in the Water has gotten demanding enough that Connor Dector and Curran have been trading off on drums to cover for him. Connor's the youngest guy in the band by a wide margin. He was born right around the same time I made the move from Florida to California, which was less than half my life ago. I did not need to do that math out loud just now, but here we are. He's also got the best voice in the band. Don't tell him I said that: we don't need him getting any ideas about a promotion. That doesn't change how we feel about Chris, though. I feel like I met a friend for life in him, the two of us bonded over the original EP we released together.

As good a drummer as he is, nobody's ever going to be offended if he wants to sit in with us at Jam Night and play a song he recorded or possibly even wrote with us. That night runs on James Stark's love for it. He's the one who keeps it organized every month at The Back Lounge's Wednesday jam night, hosted by Phil Demmel, on top of playing in a handful of bands of his own, one of the guys who keeps the East Bay music scene's blood pumping, rock and roll vibes all day long. He's juggling close to five bands at any given moment, playing live shows just about every weekend, and still running this thing like clockwork every month, that's its own kind of impressive, and it doesn't get said enough.

Phil and his wife Marta own that place, and between the two of them they've toured the world and shared stages with some serious names in metal, more than I could list here without this turning into its own article. Good thing I already wrote that one, if you want the full story of Jam Night and everyone who makes it what it is, it's linked at the bottom of this post. Here, I'll just say it's still Phil's call every month whether this even happens at all, which is a bigger deal than people probably realize. I've watched him and the gang break down that whole room after the show every single time, and about the only useful thing I can offer at that hour is that I'm a hell of a cord winder. I'm just honored to be part of the recipe, and I'm thankful to say I've been one of the few who hasn't missed a single one since it started over a year ago. I hope we always get to fit in whenever we want to.

The last couple of times we played Dethbed songs out, Amber Lancaster, Chris's partner who also runs sound and karaoke some nights, learned ":-)" on just a few days' notice the first time, with Curran sliding over to lead guitar for that one. We'd already taken it live once, back in September, and there's a real chance she had her bass part down better than I had my own lyrics that first time out. By the time we played it again at a later jam night, she'd made it her own, and it came out even better.

Huge thanks are owed to Chamber Greystone, who plays in Kaos and invited Dethbed 925 to debut with our first live set, thirty minutes long, back in September 2025. Chamber's the guy always booking shows and keeping his calendar filled about six months out, and on top of that, he lugs his own mixing board to every single show. He's one of the hardest working guys on the scene, and he pumps a lot of life into every show. Jim McSheffery, who plays in one of the best cover bands around, Jack Wagon, and still shows up for us between a demanding 9-to-5 job and being a grandpa, played lead guitar for that September 2025 show and did an awesome job, we all felt genuinely great about how the band presented itself that night.

Why I Still Do This

We joke about losing guys to sharks, and by now it's basically a house tradition: Jerry Curl went first, and these days it's Chris Lujan tearing it up as the drummer for Shark in the Water. Here's the honest version of that joke, though. They've got such a unique, fun live act, little jokes between songs, shark gear and all, and Chris is as perfect a fit for it as Jerry was. I'm proud every time I watch him play. Neither one of those guys leaving ever felt like losing something, not when it was for a band like Shark in the Water.

Enough with the shark jokes for a second, here's the real reason I keep doing this. To me, this is simply self-help, with the creativity of my fellow musicians. I'm hypnotizing myself to feel as good as I've ever felt in a moment. It's this magical feeling, the one I get being part of this entity, writing a song into the air, producing it, and then getting to stand up with my teammates and share this swirl of emotion we created together, sweating it out in front of an audience, and sometimes just in the rehearsal room: there's nothing else like it. Getting to share that same feeling with the people listening is its own reward on top of that, but the feeling I chase comes first, and there's something selfish about chasing it that I've made peace with. The lyrics to our song 'BlaMe' already said it better than I'm managing to right now: 'It's selfish, yet selfless. We can't complain. I'll take the blame.'

A specific thanks goes to Juan Urteaga for that one. "BlaMe" was still in its infancy when we went into the studio to record it, the third of three songs that session. We'd never even rehearsed it, it was just an idea, everybody learned it off a demo track going in. Juan's never been shy, and being a straight shooter is one of his strengths: after my first run-through, he told me flat out, from the mixing room while I was still in the vocal booth, that those were "fourth grader lyrics." So I rewrote them on the fly, right there in the session. By the end of it, he told me I'd graduated from college.

None of this happens without David Hughes, Demonic Dave, of Shine On Studio. Dave's never played a note in this band and somehow still has more fingerprints on it than half the guys who have. I've been working with Dave for over 20 years. He was here helping me build this studio back when it was about a quarter of the size it is now, and he's the one who directed me on what equipment to get so I could actually make quality recordings. He's also always been the one pushing us to think outside the box, which has been really healthy for this band. He didn't just help build the studio, he became a member of this band in every way that matters, growing with us through every session, every setback, every step forward. That's not something we take lightly, and it's not something we'll stop saying.

The spirits of Ricky Baby, Mike Matheny, Dan Matheny, and Mark Franko join with me every time I plug in, sharing this the same way we always have, nobody carrying anybody. Their music didn't end when they did. It's still alive, still growing, right here inside this project.

They're a big part of why I practice intentionally being a better man than I used to be. I am not who I was. I am becoming who I was meant to be, backed by infinite intelligence, and also by a mini fridge that's seen things no mini fridge should have to see.

That goes for every lost friend in this story, and every one still out here working too: when a guy I've made music with finds success, it feels like mine, and getting more people to hear it is a big part of why I keep doing this. It's fuel for the fire.

Rick's music is going to live forever with us. We're not going to stop playing it, and it's recorded now, permanent, out there for anyone who wants to find it, maybe further than that too. Once you record something, it doesn't just belong to the people who were in the room anymore. It's out in the world, playing on, whether we're the ones playing it or someone we've never met stumbles onto it years from now. Rick was the birth of this band, long before it ever had a name, and every time we play something he wrote or helped shape, we're not performing it, we're carrying him with us.

Deanne, I know you're already proud of him. I know you miss him and you love him. I just want you to know we're honoring him too, out here keeping his music alive and out loud, on purpose, for as long as we're able, and then some. Getting to keep representing his songwriting the way he'd want it heard isn't a duty, it's an honor, and it always will be. That's part of what 'not dead yet' means around here too, not just me, not just this band, but him, and everything he left behind in it.

Has-Been, Never-Was, or Not Dead Yet

Back in the War Prayer days, Beau Grant asked me a question that's stuck with me for twenty years: would you rather be a has-been or a never-was? I've turned that over more times than I can count, and here's where I've landed. I don't think I'm a never-was, because I don't believe I've hit my ceiling yet, not even close. And I don't think I'm a has-been either, because a has-been is someone who's decided he's done, and I haven't. Every guy in this story got his chance because he decided to keep showing up. None of them had to. All of them did anyway. We're not asking anyone to do what some of the most dedicated musicians I've ever worked with have already done. DEEP used to commute four hours round trip a couple times a week just to rehearse. Bezl and Migwell used to fly across the country and sleep on our floor, one in the living room, one in the studio. More recently it's been Curran and Ace, Curran doing four hours round trip and Ace doing eight, just to keep writing and rehearsing with us. All we're looking for right now is somebody willing to play once a week. That alone would mean more progress than our recent cadence has.

Here's something I haven't said outright anywhere in this series. Day to day, walking around, I'm a pretty humble, quiet guy, someone who spent years knocking on doors for a living and has probably shaken a million hands along the way. I've always wanted to be associated with the best of the best. On stage, and in the writing room, a different guy shows up, a much more confident one, but that confidence was never really about me. It's the caliber of musicians around me, the awesome backdrop, the springboard into eternity, that lets me reach whatever heights I reach up there.

Ace and I have been playing together for over 25 years now. He and Curran actually played together in a different band a full decade before Curran and I ever crossed paths. So the core of this lineup isn't just a group of guys who happened to end up in the same room together, it's a group of guys who've been investing in each other for a long time. People don't stick around that long, or drive two hours each way, or turn down other bands, out of politeness. We're not necessarily writing the most complicated or technical music. It comes from the heart, and I think that's exactly why it works.

That confidence, and that community, is what "One More" is actually about, even though on the surface it sounds like a drinking song. "Last shot. We reminisce. Last shot we're meant to mentor. Last shot, we met tormentor. Let's all be this. Let's serenade." That's not a typo, the song actually alternates between "we're meant to mentor" and "we met tormentor," two lines that sound almost identical out loud but land completely differently. It's less about last call at a bar than it is about Ace and me in the studio, working through whatever was left in the mini fridge, saying "one more" to each other so many times some nights that of course we ended up with a song called that. If somebody had actually been counting, both how many times we said it and how many times that fridge door opened, we'd be talking numbers that could rival the complaints about the new stadium back home, and unlike those seats, our view of that fridge was never once obstructed. "Last shot" means last chance just as much as it means one more drink. The song's opening lyrics are about the one thing everybody regrets on their deathbed, not the things they did, but the things they kept telling themselves they'd get to next time, until there was no next time left. That's really what this has always been about, closing the gap between everybody who's ever passed through this story and everybody still in it, and not putting off what matters. If you've read all three parts, you're part of that "we" now too. And if you're a guitar player reading this who's ready, willing, and able to play at as high a level as you've ever played, don't let this be your own next-time-that-never-comes. This is your last shot, and mine.

What's Next

Earlier this year, my wife Nora asked me a question that's basically the reason this whole three-part series exists: why isn't there a place where people can go hear everything I've ever done? It's a fair question. Most of these bands were gone before the internet even existed, and honestly, none of us stuck with any one project long enough to build the kind of audience that sticks around. A lot of genuinely good music, written by ordinary guys who happened to be great songwriters even when we weren't the fanciest players in the room, just never got the release it deserved. That's the secret this whole series has been circling: not some big reveal, just years of songs that deserved better than they got.

Here's where Dethbed 925 stands today, and here's what we're chasing. Curran, Connor, Ace, and I are in the studio together as often as four grown men with jobs, families, and a two- to four-hour drive can manage, and every one of those sessions makes the songs better. Connor's proven his conviction, helping this project become more awesome than it's ever been. He's said more than once that he feels at home behind that kit, and that kind of energy is exactly what keeps a project like this from disappearing the way the earlier ones did.

The 20-second video below is music we wrote just yesterday. Today, I'm decoding real lyrics word for word out of that scat session, Barefoot Bill hard at work, a name Troy's wife Jennifer Alexander shared with me at the Back Lounge last week, and it is honest.

Without a lead guitar player who lives local and can actually dedicate real time to this, it stays a side project for everybody, and I understand why. Ace lives in a different state now, so we mostly build sessions around whenever he's in town, which sometimes means once every other month. Curran's still driving two hours each way to make it happen. If we had a show booked this weekend, Ace would be there, no question, but that kind of commitment from three hours away only stretches so far.

What we're missing is a lead guitar player who wants to be part of that: someone local, who hears what we're building and wants to help finish it, the way Mike "Louis" Polito of Pimp Slap the Atmosphere, Beau of War Prayer, Roger "Raji" Gilkey of RULE!, and Justin "The Carcass" Kubiak of the Real Rulers all did in their own eras. The right lead player doesn't just fill a slot. He leads to more rehearsal time, which leads to more songs written, recorded, and released, which leads to more videos and more shows.

The goal isn't just to write one great song. It's to write the best songs any lineup I've ever been part of has shared with the universe.

And that's really what this has always been about. Not the lineup changes, not the miles or the years apart. If Dethbed 925 is remembered for anything, let it be this: a project built on love, respect, and appreciation for everyone whose determination made it what it's become, and everyone still shaping where it's going. Because when you strip everything else away, it comes back to where we started. Music is a celebration of life.

You may be able, but are you willing? If that's you, you already know it. Come find us.

If you're a lead guitar player, or you know a good friend with a positive and creative spirit who you think could be a great fit for Dethbed, have them reach out through our contact link, or email [email protected]. Let's schedule a jam.

Read Part One → | Read Part Two → | Read the Jam Night story →