Chris Frisina was born in the rustic town of Olean, New York to a family of northeastern wiseacres and intelligent hillbillies who remain hell bent on living full, rich lives despite brutal winters in a persistent economic downturn. Runt of the litter, according to his only sister. Not one to commit easily, he skirted the compulsive hunting and fishing tradition held close to his father’s heart – instead cultivating a sensitivity more suited to artists and vagabonds. In illustrations, his pen swirl meanders towards an eventual finish only understood upon completion – just as in his music. In songwriting, Chris uses what can only be explained as a genetic link to ancestral angst and talent to search for his place in a world out of sync. Part unquiet soul. Part young fool. Chris hopes to share his observations on our shared journey through life in mutual search of something pure. Chris continues to pull from a constant and pervasive sense of disquiet–gleaned from his childhood, solo travels, work experiences, sullen periods of insomnia and close friendships–to create mournful tones, pulsing with lost opportunity, longing and regret. Except for those few magical times, when it goes the other way.