From youth onward, Michael has filled various shoes and worn different hats — and occasionally, a shirt and pants. The shoes’ soles have worn out; the hats lost to wind or monkey-in-the-middle and his right to public air-bathing in perpetuinudity has been quashed.

What else to do but find nearly equally satisfying bliss in making sounds out of thin air and thick brain? Evolved into somewhat of a mad scientist who isolates from the vapid mainstream on a metaphoric moon’s dark side, Michael now lives only to bend ears in prismatic fashion…a reanimator of sounds yet unheard…or unclothed.