1985... Lisle leaves all he has known behind, to explore the New England College Mecca known as Boston.  I attended Boston University and graduated in 1989. 
A great percentage of my friends went to UGA.  Big frat parties and an established music scene... perhaps I should have gone?  All I know is that I wanted to get out; out of all that was accepted and traditional.  I graduated with honors from the Boston University Communications School with a BullShit in Mass Communications and Public Relations.  I hardly even remember going to class....

Boston itself; however, was ripe.... Upon my arrival, I set out to find a band... my first ventures into the local music scene produced a handful of insignificant nothings; lots of people thinking they were way falling off of the edge of cool, yet drifting on a sea of commercial tides that never really rang true for me in the first place.  I am all about the counter culture.  All of the greatest poets and writers and artists and thinkers and scientists were ALWAYS the ones that didn't give a damn about what other people thought; but instead, let their creative minds flow into tributaries yet unexplored by the recognized mappers of  the currently established tidal pools.  I just wanted to get out of Savannah, reinvent myself, and finally become the person that my friends back at home would never understand... they didn't then so why should they now?


I gathered a tiny bit of notoriety by getting my picture on the cover of the independent BU periodical, The Daily Free Press... known affectionately to the student body as The Freep. 
Not long after, I ended up in a meeting of passionate and salivating BU musicians, and met a young freshman by the name of Jon Pikus.  Jon was a strapping young and virile specimen of a man who never failed to impress me with his penchant for crashing guest lists and sold out venues. 
If you want to get into a sold out show, then you should definitely have Pikus at your side.  I've witnessed true transcendence of the velvet rope line by showing up with this guy.  I've even run from a throng of a hundred angry "will call" window participants; wanting to beat the living shit out of us for scoring "unavailable" tickets to a Guns And Roses concert through the magic of Jon's unbearable persistence.  He could sell a stumbling cow to the meat inspector.  Quite extraordinary...


Boston produced some notable tales.  We played at all of the local venues;  Bunratty's, The Paradise, The Rat, Middle East Cafe, Catch a Rising Star and The Channel.  My band, The Promise, did well... winning the BU round of the Energizer Battery Battle of the Bands.  We actually beat a local favorite that I had always heard were better than we were.  Well, at least I had heard that from a Billionaire heiress that I had the hots for until I saw her without makeup... such is life. 
We made it to the finals, playing for all the marbles in a competition at BU's hockey rink in front of a couple thousand adoring fans, hosted by Sinbad.  What else could a guy hope for?  Alas to say... we did not win... DAMMIT!  Fade to Black.


The Promise went on to do a most unclaimed tour of the east coast that summer.  We mostly played for free pot and lodging whenever we could, but ended up most nights jockeying for a sleeping position in the "Golden Hawk" model of a Jeep Chief Cherokee.  I found that it was easier to sleep on the roof of the U-Haul trailer that we were pulling than to try to sleep in the Jeep.  We ended up in Virginia Beach on 4th of July weekend.  We were gig-less, but thanks to the efforts of Jon Pikus, we were able to score a gig on the beach in front of hundreds of drunken Virginians.  That led to a local pub gig and a much needed bath in their hose for the going price of a 1/4 ounce of really shitty weed. 
It was perfect for the couple rounds of Goofy Golf that we played the next day.  That night I slept on the roof of the U-Haul and was awakened by the pulsating flashlight of the Virginia Beach PD.  The officer asked what I was doing and I told him that I was sleeping.  Apparently there is a law against sleeping on the roof of a U-Haul trailer in that state, so I found comfort on the front porch of one of the local residents.  I don't know who or where that was, but I would like to take this opportunity to thank the people of Virginia Beach for providing me with such needed accommodations. 
We toured from Boston to Savannah and back, playing at CBGB's, Limelight, The Night Flight, some place in DC on a good night, and The China Club, before finally making it back to Boston.  That was my first and LAST tour in a Chief Cherokee.... thank god.


We made it back to Boston for senior year and then the bottom fell out.  Our bass player Paul Grubb decided that The Promise was not for him and he quit the band.  After many auditions of overly educated Berklee cats, we finally found an epic bass player by the name of Bob Kiah. 
Shortly after, it was determined that my lead guitar skills were not developed enough to rule the world; so we then joined forces with an incredible guitar player by the name of Pete Promise.  How appropriate is that?  The band is called The Promise and we find a shredding guitar player by the name of Pete Promise?  The Gods have smiled.


We played around Boston for the few remaining months of senior year... Pikus and I graduated and then decided that the Boston scene was not fertile.  We packed up the new members, along with ourselves and headed to California (with an aching in our hearts).  Actually, my heart was not aching, but I'm sure that Pete's fiancee Andrea was not too happy about it. 
We travelled in 3 cars; the Golden Hawk with said U-Haul... a mannequin by the name of Lucy in the front seat, Bob and I in the Dodge Omni and Pete in his Toyota Supra.  A few break downs later we arrived in Los Angeles; Beverly Hills to be exact.  We spent almost a month living off of Pikus's parent's patronage (alliteration baby), and finally found the perfect house for the band to live in.  We had made it to Silver Lake with a gay bondage club down the street and a two car garage to practice in.  We were living the dream baby.  Continue on to the LA Part 1 Page.



 

Boston