HISTORY

An early incantation of Dropsy began sometime in early 1999, with Matt, Mark, and Levi getting together in a storage shed, running an extension cord across the street from Mark and Matt's house, and wringing out tortured, awkward death-punk to pass the time. The further into the project they went, the brighter its future became. With two songs and no bass player, Mark, Matt, and Levi were paid a visit by their friend, local musician Ian Walling. Casually, they asked him if he'd want to play bass for them. Casually, he declined, saying, "Fuck you losers." But times were boring and desperate in Coldwater, so Ian later came to the conclusion that it might be fun, and picked up the bass.

It was the worst mistake he would ever make in his life.

Now a full "band", Dropsy took to the task of writing a full set list. At the other end of their efforts, nine songs that collectively clocked in at about fifteen minutes were born. Now that they had "songs", they knew the next step was to play a show, in front of people, to show the world how horrible they were at writing and performing music. That opportunity came when a Coldwater friend (and, coincidentally, Ian's future girlfriend) Sara Scare (real name) invited them to a play a party she was throwing at her house. The party would feature somewhere between eight and ten other bands, ranging from punk (Self Titled, The Pushers), to jazz noise not-music (Groute Gate Gender), to new-school rap-metal (Shiftkit), to the death metal that Coldwater was known for at the time (Production Grey, Funeral Possesion). In truth, only half of those bands showed. On top of that, it rained right when Dropsy was supposed to perform, (which they did anyways, ignoring potential electrocution), and some drunk bastards knocked over a column of speakers, mixers, and other expensive equipment, which was getting rained on in the first place. Still, our halfway decent and energetic performance proved to pleasantly surprise the crowd, and left us infected with the addiction to live performance.

In Coldwater, however, live shows were an rare and endangered species. Coldwater doesn't have any clubs, so places like Quality Inn and Ponderosa had to suffice for struggling bands, unless, of course, they felt like driving an hour or more out of town for a show. We played a bunch of crappy parties throughout the summer, and once we played the Bronson theatre (Bronson is another city right next to Coldwater), but that was about it. No big shows. No big clubs. But for a band still in the stages of infancy, we were doing all right.

AND THEN ALL HELL BROKE LOOSE.

A disgusting soap opera ensued between Mark and Ian and Sara (remember her?) that involved lies and a breach of trust between two good friends. Girls are evil. We love girls, but they are evil. This particular girl almost completely destroyed Dropsy for good (not that she was completely responsible. It takes two, or in this case, three to tango). Dropsy ended up firing Ian, and hiring Shiftkit drummer and local Death Metal Nazi Satan boy Jesse Morris to fill in on bass. With Jesse, Dropsy got shows at the Mr. Mini-Putt youth hang-out place, which was pathetic, and embarassing, but still gave us a place to play. Things were stable, but Dropsy felt somehow incomplete, somehow less powerful than they used to be. Their few fans noticed this as well.

Anyways, Jesse hated punk and loved death metal and turned out to be a total son of a bitch because one day he up and decided to steal Dropsy's shit, Shiftkit's shit, and fuck EVERYBODY over and move to California. By the way, rumor has it that Jesse is back in town, so if you see him, call him a little bitch and kick his ass.

Now Dropsy was once again without a bass player. The most attractive option they had was to try and get Ian, who they fucked over and fired over bullshit, back in the band. He knew the songs, had a gift for shit-talking and jumping around, and is truly the only logical person to have playing bass for Dropsy.

BUT WOULD HE COME BACK?
...to be continued.

Now, for the exciting conclusion...

YES! HE WOULD COME BACK!

After Levi finished begging him to reenter the band for about fifteen minutes, Ian casually declined, saying "Fuck you losers." But soon he decided once again that playing bass for a crappy punk band was better than boredom, and Dropsy was once again ready for shows.

We have had two shows since then, and are looking forward to more, but people suck, and we are only people, so you have to wonder if maybe we are going to fuck this up again, and maybe break up for good.

Here's hoping!



DROPSY, THEN AND NOW An early incantation of Dropsy began sometime in early 1999, with Matt, Mark, and Levi getting together in a storage shed, running an extension cord across the street from Mark and Matt's house, and wringing out tortured, awkward death-punk to pass the time. The further into the project they went, the brighter its future became. With two songs and no bass player, Mark, Matt, and Levi were paid a visit by their friend, local musician Ian Walling. Casually, they asked him if he'd want to play bass for them. Casually, he declined, saying, "Fuck you losers." But times were boring and desperate in Coldwater, so Ian later came to the conclusion that it might be fun, and picked up the bass. It was the worst mistake he would ever make in his life. Now a full "band", Dropsy took to the task of writing a full set list. At the other end of their efforts, nine songs that collectively clocked in at about fifteen minutes were born. Now that they had "songs", they knew the next step was to play a show, in front of people, to show the world how horrible they were at writing and performing music. That opportunity came when a Coldwater friend (and, coincidentally, Ian's future girlfriend) Sara Scare (real name) invited them to a play a party she was throwing at her house. The party would feature somewhere between eight and ten other bands, ranging from punk (Self Titled, The Pushers), to jazz noise not-music (Groute Gate Gender), to new-school rap-metal (Shiftkit), to the death metal that Coldwater was known for at the time (Production Grey, Funeral Possesion). In truth, only half of those bands showed. On top of that, it rained right when Dropsy was supposed to perform, (which they did anyways, ignoring potential electrocution), and some drunk bastards knocked over a column of speakers, mixers, and other expensive equipment, which was getting rained on in the first place. Still, our halfway decent and energetic performance proved to pleasantly surprise the crowd, and left us infected with the addiction to live performance. In Coldwater, however, live shows were an rare and endangered species. Coldwater doesn't have any clubs, so places like Quality Inn and Ponderosa had to suffice for struggling bands, unless, of course, they felt like driving an hour or more out of town for a show. We played a bunch of crappy parties throughout the summer, and once we played the Bronson theatre (Bronson is another city right next to Coldwater), but that was about it. No big shows. No big clubs. But for a band still in the stages of infancy, we were doing all right. AND THEN ALL HELL BROKE LOOSE. A disgusting soap opera ensued between Mark and Ian and Sara (remember her?) that involved lies and a breach of trust between two good friends. Girls are evil. We love girls, but they are evil. This particular girl almost completely destroyed Dropsy for good (not that she was completely responsible. It takes two, or in this case, three to tango). Dropsy ended up firing Ian, and hiring Shiftkit drummer and local Death Metal Nazi Satan boy Jesse Morris to fill in on bass. With Jesse, Dropsy got shows at the Mr. Mini-Putt youth hang-out place, which was pathetic, and embarassing, but still gave us a place to play. Things were stable, but Dropsy felt somehow incomplete, somehow less powerful than they used to be. Their few fans noticed this as well. Anyways, Jesse hated punk and loved death metal and turned out to be a total son of a bitch because one day he up and decided to steal Dropsy's shit, Shiftkit's shit, and fuck EVERYBODY over and move to California. By the way, rumor has it that Jesse is back in town, so if you see him, call him a little bitch and kick his ass. Now Dropsy was once again without a bass player. The most attractive option they had was to try and get Ian, who they fucked over and fired over bullshit, back in the band. He knew the songs, had a gift for shit-talking and jumping around, and is truly the only logical person to have playing bass for Dropsy. BUT WOULD HE COME BACK? ...to be continued. Now, for the exciting conclusion... YES! HE WOULD COME BACK! After Levi finished begging him to reenter the band for about fifteen minutes, Ian casually declined, saying "Fuck you losers." But soon he decided once again that playing bass for a crappy punk band was better than boredom, and Dropsy was once again ready for shows. We have had two shows since then, and are looking forward to more, but people suck, and we are only people, so you have to wonder if maybe we are going to fuck this up again, and maybe break up for good. Here's hoping!

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