If you’ve come out to a show or bought a record of mine in the last decade, there’s a good chance you’ve heard Billy Conway Music on the drums: broad, magic smile on his face, the rare balance of delicacy and power framing every note. Sometimes on the full kit, but often enough just a snare, ride, lowboy, and a suitcase with Mardi Gras beads hanging off of the handle. Simplicity itself.
Maybe you know something about Billy’s life. That he was a Minnesota hockey savant, went to Yale on a scholarship, captain of the team. Maybe you know he took his Ivy League degree and taught at-risk kids in inner-city Boston; that he toured the world with Treat Her Right, and rose to fame with Morphine, becoming one of the best known and most respected drummers in American Music. Maybe you know that he’s met everyone from Johnny Cash to Roy Orbison, backed up Bo Diddley, opened for Bob Dylan, Bonnie Raitt, Los Lobos. Maybe you know that after Mark Sandman died on » Continue Reading.