Brad Staba

I am Brad Staba.

Or, at least, he is me now when I was younger.

I will explain.

My first glimpse of Brad Staba came courtesy of Transworld Skateboarding Magazine. On one of the thirteen or so pages (out of, oh, three-hundred) not plastered with an ad, was Mr. Staba executing a sideways grind down a nine-stair handrail. That was not the nostalgic part of the photo, as I am not that proficient on a skateboard, and never was. The shocker was Staba’s appearance. He was straight out of my third-grade class photo, circa 1981: Semi-fitting true-blue jeans, blue-and-red-striped, two-button, fake Izod shirt, and a mess of unfeathered and unfettered hair atop a head brimming with concentration. I was an intense lad in those days. Still am, as a point of fact. My honest, intial reaction to seeing this photo was, “This guy’s indie rock. I’ve got to find him. And, jeezus, he looks like me in elementary school!”

Naturally, I had to seek out my twin. I began with some exhasutive research online, looking for anything Brad Staba-related. I found an interview where he mentioned listening to the Swirlies. My hunch was confirmed.