BRyAn Misio PercuSSIOn
aldo is an italo-newfie hybrid Canadian. he learned to play mandolin in a self-serve gas station booth, as guitar was too bulky. gas fumes may explain his unusual playing style. aldo favours syncopated rhythms as he is usually an eighth note behind on the beat anyway. aldo currently inhabits richmond hill with his incredibly patient wife gina.
Aldo Missio mandolin
aldo is an italo-newfie hybrid Canadian. he learned to play mandolin in a self-serve gas station booth, as guitar was too bulky. gas fumes may explain his unusual playing style. aldo favours syncopated rhythms as he is usually an eighth note behind on the beat anyway. aldo currently inhabits richmond hill with his incredibly patient wife gina.
Bill MacLean bass guitar
bill came to toronto shortly after the last ice age to make a living as a musician. when that didn't pan out, he decided to become a bass player. armed with his $35 sears warehouse bass, he went to a local open stage where he met ian and aldo and jennifer. they felt sorry for him and asked him to join the ian white band. now, like a stray cat, they can't get rid of him.
bill usually stands to the left of ian as you're looking at the stage (except those times when he stands to the right).
iAn White vocals, guitar, harmonica
Ian's origins are somewhat shrouded, their obscurity stemming from the fact that he was born in a city which can no longer be found on maps. For Ontario readers who are a little older than they like to think they are, this tantalizing little enigma could no doubt be solved with a brief rummaging through their memories, and connecting a few dots. For younger readers, the fog could be dispersed by a quick trip through cyberspace. let us save you all the time (it's precious - we know) and just tell you that Ian was born a short portage up a rocky slope from the north shore of lake Superior (got it yet?) in a city called Port arthur. which, of course, married its fraternal twin, Fort william, to become thunder Bay. (the strange mutations - a newspaper called the Chronicle Journal!? - that resulted from this incestuous union is perhaps a story for another time.) lesson #1 - life brings changes. (Dear reader; your edification is our number one interest! and we sincerely hope that the ease of solution to this initial mystery does nothing to undermine the earnest labouring of this bio towards the goal of firmly establishing an aura of mystique around its subject.) Ian's earliest musical endeavours were not remarkable (setting a tone that has remained remarkably consistent ever since), consisting mainly of singing in his elementary school classes while appearing not to, or at least appearing not to be enjoying it. It was, of course, a well-known fact among young boys in this northern Ontario hub that real men don't sing. at the age of 8, he launched, with the help of well-meaning parents (his mother is still going strong in her role as a church music director and as a model of how music can enrich both one's own life, and that of others), a piano career, which flared out at the age of 9. this failure can be easily explained away by picturing any sports-loving 9-year-old chained to a piano bench, practising scales, while the sounds of a road hockey game heating up outside filter into the house and hover like the aroma of cookies baking... while on this subject, it should be said that the greatly diminished number of games heating up on city streets is a phenomenon which Ian finds distressing. lesson #2; hmmm...we're not sure...bear with us on the edification thing... the winding down of his piano career did not spell the end of musical pursuits, however. there were a couple of years of enrobement in the junior church choir, followed by his high school years, which for our present purposes we can simply sum up as being "the trombone period". It was also during this time that he set out on the particular musical road that he's still traveling. If asked, (he hasn't been - the media doesn't hound Ian - a fact that, if pressed, he would have to admit quite pleases him) Ian would say that he has been especially drawn to two musical things for as long as he can remember; the sound of an acoustic guitar, and the alchemy that occurs with the combining of well-chosen words with music. And so he took up the guitar, and by the time high school ended (ahh...the shedding of the constraints of formal education), he began writing bad poetry and songs. to his credit, he has stuck with it, and those familiar with his early efforts would say that there has been some improvement. lesson #3; Forget the edification. Dear reader, from now on your entertainment is our number one (and possibly only) interest. Despite living in a "northern" town (about 70 km from Ontario's southern border), Ian was not working in isolation. In this modest clearing in the almost boreal forest, there was plenty of inspiration to be found. Rodney Brown, Ian tamblyn, Ken hamm and lauri Conger, among others, were writing songs and performing locally. there were blues bands, and a symphony orchestra, and great teachers, two of whom Ian was fortunate enough to have while studying classical guitar and voice at lakehead university. regular coffeehouses at the Old Finnish hall provided opportunities to practise performing. But...remember lesson #1?...life brings changes... and so Ian moved from the clean air (well, ok, there was some grain dust from the elevators floating around, and an occasional whiff of a papermill), close-knit community, and cycling paradise of thunder Bay to the smoggy air, rootless anonymity, and traffic-congested cycling nightmare of downtown toronto.. and what did he gain by this move? hmm...hmmmmmm...ok, let us have no more dark thoughts...(actually, Ian has addressed this very question many times in interviews, albeit these have always been conducted by himself, in the privacy of his own imagination. So his commentaries, not being on public record, will not be provided in this space.) One benefit of taking up residence just down the street from maple leaf Gardens was the keeping alive of his dream of playing pro hockey, well into his 30's. It always seemed that the leafs could use somebody - anybody! - to help them...why aren't they calling me?...maybe I should just walk down the street and knock on their door... But there were other, seemingly more intriguing, doors to check out. And while toronto didn't prove to be an orchard of opportunity, neither was it a desert. the change in environment provided him with considerable fodder and stimulus for writing. there was a maze-like world, a kind of parallel universe, of open stages to be explored, which led not to insanity (despite some definite risk),but more fortunately to gigs at venues such as Sneaky Dee's, the Cabana Room, and Free times Cafe. And along the way, he met Aldo, then Jennifer, and finally Bill, and relationships were established that have not only endured, but flourished ever since. "alone is great, shared is even better" - words that apply perhaps to all of life, but most certainly to music. Ian has felt grateful, flattered and privileged to have had this trio of musicians accompany him. and he has never gotten over his surprise that they seem to like his songs enough to actually choose to learn and rehearse them. he doesn't examine his surprise too closely, lest it lead to the suspicion of less gratifying motives... Being musicians, they naturally want to play, and the more sound they produce, the better... Ian sometimes feels like a drowning man, fighting this current, trying to keep his songs from being swamped. He has learned to apply the reins subtly, handing out candied promises like "If you just play a little less here, you can have a solo in the next song" with a deft hand. the band members have no idea that they are being manipulated in this fashion (however benevolently), and Ian feels that things are best left this way, so nothing further on this subject will be revealed. and that pretty much brings us up to the present, which, given our reluctance to indulge in speculations about Ian's future, means the conclusion of this bio. more, of course, could be written. his musical habit has always required funding, so there's a whole history of barely-gainful employment that could be chronicled. But, your entertainment being our goal...we'll just skip it. and the call of the wild, the siren songs of distant shores, are always plying their way through the city's static buzz to slip past the doorsills of Ian's ears - and he continues to heed them.. But this is another story. So we bid you so long for now...our regrets to those of you whom we failed to entertain. Please don't give up on us as a result of this minor disappointment, because, as Ian likes to say (whether asked or not) - it's all about the music, silly...it's all about the music.