THE STORY OF MATT "QUBE" MITTAG
Bass & Vocals

Greetings fellow space babies, allow me to introduce myself...I am Qubist. Friends just call me Qube. As my memory is fuzzy and fragmented about anything before February 1997, the following information has been gathered from unconfirmed reports by unreliable sources and outright liars.

Born several times between 200 B.C. and the present, I am approximately 2200 years old. This is by far the weirdest turn of the Wheel yet. The only offspring of two semi-musical Southwestern Moecherville Finger Monkeys I was burdened by high expectations. Originally groomed to replace the aging Great Spiral of Beetlejuice, I had my path set before me. Then came the tragic accident that brought me here and made me what I am today. After the 'Dent', as I lovingly refer to it, I spent years wandering aimlessly constantly trying to fit myself into society's round hole. It was about this time I picked up the bass.

I was inspired by a man whom also went by one name, Sting. Not yet knowing what I was doing (or for that matter ever having touched a bass) I lied to a high school friend who was starting a band and told him I played. He had a bass permanently missing one string. He left the room and I figured out the line to The Police's "So Lonely". I got my first gig and I was a bassist. After the obligatory basement/garage bands and while playing in college Rock and Jazz ensembles I met the infamous (in some circles) Jimmy Goodtimes.

Jimmy was a kindhearted old hippie who later ran into a-lot of trouble. We played Jam Band music with Jimmy's baby The Dead Guise. Frankly, the best thing about the band was the name. Grateful Dead and other Psychedelic Music was our forte' and we had a steady Fri. Sat. gig at a place called Jon's Beef and Beer. Jon's was owned by an old Greek guy who either used it as a tax write-off or for money laundering or both. The ceiling was caving in, there was no beef to be found in the place (thank goodness) and you could smell the bathrooms from the front door. Simply put Jon's was the dumpiest dump that ever dumped. The clientele wasn't much better. But I was underage getting free beer and being paid to play music which still blows my mind. I can vividly remember going to the bathroom there where some yahoo with an 8 ball of coke up his nose told me I had dropped my pocket. Being quite surprised that a pocket could actually be dropped, I looked down. It was about that time I realized the guy was an asshole and that people in general suck. I never went to the bathroom again.

I was in and out of many local bands, studios and ensembles playing everything; Jam stuff, Folk, Blues, Country, Reggae, Salsa and briefly studied Jazz at University of Alaska, Anchorage.

At a Jazz competition with Waubonsee College Jazz Ensemble I was told by some supposedly famous fat old trumpet player (to this day I don't know who he was) that I "didn't get the concept". Later that weekend I witnessed his big band and decided that if what his bassist was doing was "the concept" I did NOT WANT to "get it". This combined with all my eclectic influences made me the player I am today. Some of these influences include;

I can't describe the smell...

But the chestnut trees were in full bloom, their delicate white wafers floating gently to the ground. Piles formed next door to the gutters (we should have been barefooted - but we were free, I think). Buddhahood right around the corner with the fragrance an incense towards Enlightenment. Where was She? A song I didn't like was playing and I danced as in a comedy, a parody of you and me again. Four beautiful souls, one disgusted and arrogant (so be it) towards me, melted downstairs into a cellar where they sold alcohol and strange small sandwiches. (I should have had one but didn't) Everyone smiled but did not and two female creatures danced to some AfroEuropeanProcessed Dancebeat. Our conversation was light and easy. You drew our continuous line portraits. Thank you. Foreign, the toilets caused me great embarrassment (as most toilets do). The Wheel turned again for someone one of us may have known but it doesn't matter. The Wheel turns always. Some may say there is but one way only I believe in 3:

The Police, Phish, Phil Lesh, The Meters, Jack Kerouac, James Jamerson, Samuel Clemmons, Charlie Mingus and as a bassist I have to site Jacko. I brought that fat, middle edged sound to such bands as the very talented Blueser and the Funkamobilly sounds of The Cosmic Brotherhood. Through which I met Curt. The rest is Huxter history.

Send Qube an email at qube@huxterband.com (NOT CURRENTLY ACTIVE).