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King Leg

A high plains rocker born near the west roads of Nebraska, the young Leggin’ kicked up the dust and moonwalked atop the sod. By the tender age of eight, he discovered abilities lingering in his limber legs, swivel hips, and ankles while imitating the King himself; thereon, he’d carry a comb to coif his Elvisian pomp. Soon after, he’d pluck his first chords on the guitar. He was certain he found his calling.

 

In his middle years, the Boy Leg Wonder frolicked, jiving to the classics, rockin’ a shag-do, and emulating the mop-top mods from Liverpool. Radiohead and The Moody Blues lulled his weary limbs to sleep at night, while New Wave writhed him out of bed in the morning.  He got his rock n’ roll toes wet partying hard in an Andrew W.K. cover band. Toward the end of this chapter, the adolescent Leg found an interest in songwriting, and the wind blew him to Nashville. 

 

Stranded, a rock ‘n roll seeker in Nashville, an awakening stirred in Leg when exposed to the vestiges of a musical world he had not yet known. Immersed in a town of songwriting, he studied the greats while haunting the halls of the Ryman. Especially attentive to the rockin’ country stompers, like Webb Pierce and Billy Walker, he dissected the sweet croons of Slim Whitman and warbles of the Big O… Roy Orbison that is. In the ghostly glow of the neon laments and all things country, he curated a respect for the idiom. In his later melodic travels, it would often combine in moments as a unique leavening with his more aggressive rock roots.  He never strayed far from the inspiration of those Liverpuddlian lads, as it became crystalline clear that he, with those purveyors of the same said influences, would clash with the scene at large.

 

Meanwhile, there was a light of love for The Smiths that never went out. Inspired, he started a band named The Backscrubbers with fellow Mozphiles. After adding to the set his originals alongside classic covers, the group made its first public appearance as King Leg at the Grace Manor Home for the Elderly. The rambunctious performance roused the residents from the roosts of their comfy chairs. In this geographic interlude, circumstances left him misunderstood by many and perplexing to most at this far outlying weigh station on a journey to fulfill his destiny of Leg rocking. Although unclear which fork to take on the multitude of paths that lie on the horizon, it appeared his future burned brightest toward the sun setting in the west. It drew him down the highway that led him to becoming the newest in a long line of adopted musical sons of the “Golden State.”

 

Often King has been approached, “Mr. Leg, is it a band or a man?” His response to the query is “Brother, Sister… it’s a state of mind.” Still others have asked since his arrival in the Golden West, “What is it you call this groovy sound you sonically seduce us with?” Before he could proffer an answer, a fanatical female follower interjected, “Aren’t you hip that we’re in the presence of a modern millennial prophet?” He stood resolute, no apologies necessary, being the Millennial Mod rocker that he is. He dwells now where he has found himself - in the state of mind called King Leg.


 

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    Los Angeles, CA

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