Ghost to Falco is essentially the brain child of one, Eric Crespo. Starting in 2001 as a one man guitar symphony of sorts, he set out on a solitary path onto the highways of America, crisscrossing it more times than he could count, playing any ramshackle living room or dwindling institution of live music he could find. As long as there was anyone who cared to listen, he was happy to share his unique quest to bridge the gap between his two loves; avant-garde weird America and the more tuneful turf of the enlightened songwriter. Eventually he added Europe to his touring repertoire and released two fantastic, but under the radar full lengths, on fledgling labels—2004's torn or broken, shadowed or dark, cast off all doubts and ride the flames to freedom and 2007's Like This Forever.

In 2007, after returning from a month and a half of solid touring in Italy and Germany, Crespo came back to his adopted home of Portland, OR and got to work on the recordings that would become the third Ghost to Falco album, Exotic Believers. Recording took place in a makeshift studio housed in a former Oriental rug warehouse downtown, two blocks from Powell's Book Store — all of it recorded on a ½ inch analog 8 track machine — an old fashioned recording device made for amateur hobbyists, being used here to its full capacity by an obsessive auteur to create a magnum opus that he couldn't be sure would ever see the light of day. No labels hassling about the release date. It simply had to get made for the sake of getting this stuff out of a brain and into the world. There was no choice and he worked with what he had. Between continuing to tour, the schedules of the 30 collaborators, and the perfectionism of the mastermind, the project was two years in the making. But good god it was worth it.

Wizzerds of Rhyme is a band that will do anything for art, within reason. Formed in 2004 or 2005 by four guys, the Wizzerds were immediately welcomed into the World of Hip-Hop with open arms. They played many shows during this early period, in both their hometown of Chapel Hill and abroad, even going as far as South Carolina. It was during this time that the then tiny record label Cape & Chalice was formed, an empire in its infancy… It seemed as if the good times were pretty much going to last forever.

But then out of nowhere tragedy struck suddenly. Green Tea, a founding member of the Wizzerds, was diagnosed with rapinchiliosis of the spine (from too much rapping) and was forced to leave the group on indefinite hiatus. This caused the rest of the band to get jobs or move to Japan, and many in the community feared that this would be the end of another legendary act, cut down in its prime.

Just when all seems lost, hope springs eternal. In 2009, like a ray of sunlight piercing through the grey clouds in a divine spotlight and illuminating a single falcon on a mountaintop, the Wizzerds of Rhyme decided the hiatus was over. Quickly, they burst back onto the scene with new songs loaded with engaging hooks and danceable beats. Performing in front of a near capacity crowd, the triumphant return show allowed the fans all around the world to release the breath they didn’t know they had been holding.

Currently, Wizzerds of Rhyme are hard at work in the recording studio working on an as yet unnamed album, as well as thrilling crowds with their trademark theatrical performances. As one noted critic points out: “I like seeing the Wizzerds of Rhyme live. They have colorful costumes and danceable beats, and its usually over pretty quickly.”

Wizzerds of Rhyme are:

Space*Man
Hacksaw Jim Duggan
Willie Oceans

Taken from Hazerai's bio:
For appetizers, Hazerai is a rock band of three persons from Chapel Hill, North Carolina. Punkish not punk with perplexing noise, elbow grease, Cher, grappling hooks, little pastas and undercover excitement, Hazerai very nearly were a Polvo tribute band! Hazerai owns every slot machine in the area, operate 1/2 on instinct and are awesome. Adam = Bass Waves (and guitar), John plays the drums and the cymbals as well, Steve yells shit up with guitar and bass. Maybe you should turn necklaces into table cloths.

The Club was a minor hit in the 1960s as a soul singer on the R&B circuit, receiving middling to good reviews. He cut several EPs on the Dekalb label (since lost) and toured extensively through the South. He tired of the road, however, and went to dental school to become a dentist. He remained out of the public eye for thirty years.

In 2004, the Dekalb catalog was bought by a major label, and many executives, discovering The Club for the first time, were excited by The Club's still-relevant sound. They tracked the Club down to his dental practice outside of Philadelphia, and gave him a generous advance to create a new record. The caveat was that he had to utilize the major label's state-of-the-art studio replete with full array of electronica flourishes. By combining the old-world charm of the club with the latest electro-techno craze, they hoped to have a full-fledged hit. The Club, starting to yearn for his earlier life of glitz and glamour, jumped at the offer. The label gave him 6 months to come up with a record. The Club began writing songs. Unfortunately, just around this time, The Club met one (or two) extraordinary women, in Poopoo and Peepee. The Club fell hard, and the pair (group) spent the Club's advance lavishly in all of the Main Line's most fashionable discotecques.

Five months and three weeks passed. The label tried to contact the club for a status check, but to no avail. Finally, the label's lawyer's tracked the Club down to a prefab teepee in Conshohocken. He told them that the record was almost done. As soon as they left, he drove to the studio to start work on the record in earnest. Drinking pot after pot of coffee, obsessed with the love(s) of his life, he worked all night every night that last week to finish his record, created a modern record with a modern sound. "An Evening With...[The Club]" was the result. Soon after touring on that record, The Club found himself prisoner of Stevie Nicks in a cave on an island in a winery. He finally stole away on Art Garfinkel's motorboat and made his way back to Ithaca, NY, where he was expected to take a professorship at Cornell. In the meantime, Poopoo and Peepee had become the stars of a reality television dating show, where a number of bachelors competed for their(her) hand(s). Tommy Marcos, a robot convinced that he was the Club's son eagerly awaited the Club's return. The Club returned, and vanquished the show from his new home, by a still unknown Method. The Club planned to chronical his adventure in a record, but completed only one song "I Left By Motorboat" and a long-winded Introduction.

Most recently, The Club has been retained to write a biography of Man-Rabbit Takery. He will do so in song. Planned tracks include, "Raised by Wolves" and "Millionaire." Look for them.

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