Born in St. Louis to an overworked research biologist and a part-time bounty hunter, Moe Raw's first love was machines –he worked
in a corkboard basement workshop building BMX bikes, skateboards, electric trains, radio controlled airplanes, and go-karts.
As his skills developed , he repaired appliances around the house and for the neighbor with a Sears soldering kit. He read Tom Swift
novels and began work on a robot to help his mother with her two full-time jobs…There, under a yellow tungsten-bulb, he transformed
his imagination, neighborhood, city, universe into a vast mechanical empire, moving in intervals, sweeping and ticking in steps toward
precision, outcome, and mechanization.
A year later he lost all interest in machines…
Then music arrived.
On a Woolworth' s denim-colored -suitcase phonograph, he heard Kiss on LP, Kansas, and the twangy Hawaiian luau album his grandmother
gave him for Christmas. The conclusions he would draw from music reached beyond his mechanical experiments.
He now worked
to create music—fashioning a guitar out of cardboard, broken toys, and fishing line. Banished from practicing in his home, Moe Raw
learned to play music on a rooftop, imitating passing traffic. A fascination with organic melody, found sounds, and with language
drove him into exploration, deep into the city, and deeper into understanding and expression.
school science wiz and athlete in Olympics of the Mind, he left college at 19. He lived in a 1972 Cutlass and survived playing
music and sharing his unique vision with audiences. Moe Raw connects asynchronous values into rolling, hypnotic, and digable
tracks that flow from the speakers with a special brew of angular lyricism. Interwoven with insight and street smarts, these
tunes are shellacked by toughness and command attention.