Trick Holiday and Toni Hoffmann

Trick Holiday and Toni Hoffmann is a collaboration of two Indie Singer/Songwriter, usually seperated by the Atlantic but united in the same passion for playing and writing music. Toni and Trick met a couple of years ago in the streets of Washington DC. They talked for all of an hour or so, switched email addresses, and departed into the vague, dim mist of forgotten passings. While cleaning out his room this year, Toni found Trick's info and emailed him from his small town in Germany. After only a couple exchanges he was making plans to come over to play together. Now for October to December of 2011 they are about to hit the streets, the venues, the coffeeshops and whereever there are people who have ears...

Trick Holiday:

Ask Trick Holiday where his name comes from and more than likely he will smile slightly, look off a bit, and explain "My Mom was a hooker" without ever giving an indication as to whether or not he is joking. Quickly it becomes clear that what we think of his name or his mother's sexual propensities means nothing to Trick Holiday. What is important is the music, and the spirit which governs the songwriting and infuses his performances. Past these things, everything else is just talk and bullshit.

Musically, things began for Trick when he was six or seven years of age. For reasons uncertain to anyone, a boy by the name of Michael McLaughlin allowed Trick to befriend him. It was a strange union because Mike was fourteen years old, six-foot one-inch tall and hung out with high-school kids himself when he wasn't letting Trick hang out with him. Mike introduced a young Trick to the Rolling Stones, the finer points of "getting some ass" from girls, and recreational drug use. Once Mike hung Trick by his ankles off the overpass of I-95 near the Tri-State Mall in Wilmington, Delaware. However, all dysfunctions not withstanding, music was their bond and the only thing that really mattered at a very young age for Trick. They would listen to the "Hot Rocks" album over and over each day they got together. Mike would tell Trick about the band and what rock-n-roll meant to him, and Trick would dream through his stories and musings about music and the older kids' social scene.

After Trick and his family moved away, Trick's love of music was further fostered by his older brother's eclectic tastes. Specifically, though, there was one day that was a defining moment. That was the day when Trick's brother Rob brought home Led Zeppelin's fourth album and a nine year old Trick watched the orange and green label spin around on the turntable, the needle excavating this incredible music from the black grooves. "Black Dog" played from the cheap speakers of the stereo their mother owned and Trick watched the speakers as if he might see the group playing if he looked hard enough. It was nothing less than magic. Trick thought, "These guys make magic for a living. I want to make magic for a living too."

That was the start. Drums, then songwriting, then guitar. Trick is the first one to say that he couldn't sing for shit when he was young, that it didn't come as naturally as people seem to think it does now. It was sheer will and practice that is responsible for his soulful executions. He got a couple of degrees from NYU, but this was just a excuse to be in New York, where he met his first manager, who took him on. Trick immediately, and hastily, quit his restaurant job to write songs full-time. Anyone who knows anything about New York knows how imprudent it is to go unemployed in an expensive town like New York. But unwise as this choice was, it did pay off: Trick was signed to the quickest recording deal in MCA history. Five days from showcase to paperwork. Life was good.

But as with all things, the ride ended. MCA was bought. Most got fired. Trick Holiday, under another name at the time, was dropped. Ask him now and Trick is philosophical, saying, "It was right to happen. I even deserved it. I think, no matter why I got the axe, it forced me to become a better artist, a better performer, and a better person. But make no mistake at the time, it was awful. I was a mess."

After that Trick Holiday officially hit the skids. Depressed. Broke. Addicted. And inevitably homeless, Trick drove up from a southern city, back to New York, where he set up on 7th Avenue and played on the street for survival while living in his SUV. He slept in the driver's seat, uncomfortable behind the steering wheel, his car otherwise filled with wrinkled clothes, guitars, and other music gear. Homeless men gave him food and clothes and encouragement to persevere. It was a tough time, but from this fool-hardy excursion he was discovered by a man who put him on tour opening up for the Deep Purple, Toots and the Maytels, Scorpions and others. Once again Trick had defied the odds with his self-styled stupidity.

The rest of the resume, well, Trick really would rather I keep out of