Terry Dammit

Terry Dammit is a Los Angeles based artist born in New York City. He began learning the piano at fifteen during an existential crisis. The first of a handful. Life had no meaning for him, but notes were so simple and had laws and relationships with each other. Music had meaning even at its most basic level, and the simple act of pressing on the keys was soothing for his mind. First he was drawn to classical piano before becoming absorbed in the songs of David Bowie (especially Life on Mars) and The Beatles (everything). He wrote a seven-minute classical composition and performed it at his school recital at sixteen, having barely had any time with the instrument — still, with hundreds of people in attendance. It went well.

At nineteen, early demos recorded with a shotgun microphone (for recording people standing about fifteen feet away) and an mbox mini led to a brief signing with a wealthy independent label, following a fortuitous busking session on Santa Monica's 3rd Street Promenade — with all the leaf dinosaurs vomiting water all the time. He gave away his demos for free on CD, was contacted on Myspace, and signed his first recording contract. What followed over the next year moved quickly and without much stability. Terry always struggled with anxiety and depression, and it was no different even as circumstances were changing. He recorded at Sunset Sound Recorders on the Sunset Strip and spent time recording out of the Beverly Hills home of Billy Corgan, who attempted — unsuccessfully — to teach him a ukulele chord. He shared stages in Hollywood with Clem Burke and annoyed B-list celebrities at Hollywood parties because no one knew who he was and he was wearing makeup and like a blue fuzzy coat. He had also drunk all the rum. Emile Hirsch was not pleased but it gave him the courage to ask out Shannyn Sossamon who was also in attendance.

She unfortunately respectfully declined.

The first show, at the now-destroyed Taix Lounge with Clem Burke of Blondie on drums and a couple other dudes, impressed Sony executive Mariela Bradford enough that she said she had got her fix. 

Clem Burke had even written on Myspace, wishing Terry a happy twentieth: "Dare I say it. I have seen the future of rock and roll and his name is Terence." There was talk of meeting Clive Davis. There was talk of a compilation album of covers with The Smashing Pumpkins and other dudes. 

The next show at the Key Club, Terry didn't eat anything and didn't care about anything, and some very important people passed on him and some people lost faith in him. They went to the Rainbow afterwards and he was rude to a waitress after no one would buy him a beer and made Frank Infante sign the sleeve of his red raincoat. By twenty, the deal had already fallen apart — undone by the animosity of failure as well as a general animosity between the head of the independent record label and himself.

His twenties were marked by a series of bands that never quite held together, often undone by excess, volatility, and a persistent inability to stay aligned with bass players. Over time, that collapse gave way to a more solitary way of working.

That solitary work — after several mediocre releases that shall forever remain unspoken and unheard of — eventually became Evening Powerlines, a debut album released in 2026 built from layered guitars, analog synths, and counterpoint structure drawn from Wendy Carlos and Johann Joseph Fux. Twenty or so tracks distilled to thirteen, written and rewritten until nothing felt necessary to change. Even the number thirteen is perfect.

His name is taken from what would be the equivalent of a novella in film: a Fellini masterpiece titled Toby Dammit. Especially beautiful is the way Terence Stamp — who plays alcoholic actor Toby Dammit — drives with nihilistic ferocity through the streets of Rome in a Ferrari.

He becomes melancholy by a lack of speed. Coming to a broken bridge, he decides to jump the gap in the convertible. Unbeknownst to him, there is a metal wire suspended horizontally across the gap, and he loses his head. Terry felt a deep kinship with him. He still does. Digression complete.

Terry Dammit is proud to still be around and believes he has a lot more to offer musically. He is also very proud of his debut. He hopes you like it too.