<  Back

Scott Galupo

	Scott, the self-styled baby of Blame it on Jane, has a mother who evidently melted down copies of Exile on Main Street and Physical Graffiti in his formula. Legend has it that his first words were "Here, dear parents, comes your 19th nervous breakdown." He hails from Absecon, an august suburb of a thoroughly non-august metropolis, Atlantic City. At age 12, young Scott attempted, unsuccessfully at first, to play a glorified plank of wood that he mistook for a guitar. Eventually, after flogging the Mel Bay Vol. I lesson book, Scott managed to string together something resembling music. He bought his first electric guitar, a Fender Telecaster, which is no longer with us. Wanting to be Keith Richards, Scott attempted to repaint his ax the same blonde hue of Richards's signature '55 Tele. It did not go well. True Value hardware paint, even the high gloss mix, does not dry with the same sheen Mr. Leo Fender intended his guitars to have. One lives and learns.
	After drifting in and out of myriad high school, wanna-be-a-rock-n-roll-star outfits, Scott resolved to expand his horizons: He took formal lessons and tried to actually learn his way around the neck of a guitar, a la Charley Christian and Wes Montgomery. He will let you know if that ever happens. After graduating from high school in 1994-yes, '94; he told you he was the baby-Scott, fancying himself bookish, decided that life in the academy was his future, not rock music. Which aspiration led him to a Washington internship program. The office for which he interned in the fall of 1997, the House Republican Conference, decided to keep him on. They are still lumbered with him today. So much for the academy.... Scott, however, began to feel the itch, as it were. Thankfully, fate brought the lovely Jane Adams to his office one evening. Adams, the museum curator who collected this disparate band of misfits, culled Scott from among a long list of distinguished area guitar-smiths begging to join the band. Or was he the first available? Alas, no one really knows. Aside from emulating Keith Richards guitar moves in the mirror, Scott enjoys hanging out in the desert and in front of fire stations. He is a stout conservative in the tradition of Edmund Burke and Benjamin Disraeli, and is stoutly opposed to lying, stealing, and raping page boys.

 <  Back