I was born David Wayne Tomaloff in the winter of 1972 and that much, at least, has never changed (any and all requests to legally change my first name to “Senator” have been flatly denied). At the time of this writing, I am 35 years old and find myself surrounded by and reliant upon a great wealth of wonderful technologies that I equally adore and abhor…35 years old; many parts younger, maybe a few a little older.

Clearly, I love music; but then, who doesn’t? I am currently kept by two odd cats with very differing personalities; though, neither seems to be put off by the differences. I love taking photographs and generally hate to drive long distances. I am self taught at nearly everything I do but am almost always disposed to point that out as a “feature” and not a bug, regardless of what I might believe in context to any given instance.

I find myself strangely fascinated by old photographs and drawn to the people and places I see in them. I sometimes feel a part of a long forgotten era myself but must digress, as I believe that tendency somehow exists in nearly all of us.

I believe that if “the muse” had a face, it would probably look a lot like an actress from a very old movie, beaming down all black and white and savagely fragile; tough talking and, all at once, criminally insecure.

I despise reality television of any kind as I believe it makes for a much weaker and, ultimately, poorer nation. I love the art of the word and can sometimes just stare at a great book, in awe of its very presence in the room.

I believe that the greatest trait of man is the ability to constantly renew in the face of adversity and believe. I believe man’s worst trait is the willingness to destroy others in the search.

I am obsessed with hats and very much enjoy a crisp white wine; though, I do love a deep red now and again. I think iPods are evil and almost never leave home without one. I believe in tea and sometimes, on a good day, I even believe in myself.

I suppose you could consider this a blurry snapshot into the mind that crafted the handful of songs featured on Birds on Wires. I’m not exactly sure just what it might have to tell you of them, but I have hopes it may reveal more to you than a couple of cleverly crafted paragraphs about a musician and his past achievements.

These songs are really just that, themselves; blurry snapshots; glimpses into the minds of the characters that walk through them. They are passing moments in lives forgotten but strangely familiar in a way that lives in nearly all of us; and if I’ve done my job well, I suspect they will reveal themselves to you in a way that is savagely fragile, tough talking and, all at once, criminally insecure.

-David W. Tomaloff, 2008