Bring on the Dumbasses!

And now there's this project, the latest in half a lifetime of DIY sound engineering. "The day I learned to hit that 'record' button," he says, "I started recording everything."

He's done it all, he says, using equipment salvaged from Grandpa, rescued from garage sales, or just found falling apart somewhere. He can slapdash a way around any technical difficulty: throw a towel over a too-raw mic, stash three or four decks around the room and see which gets lucky—stuff like that. Maybe one day he'll trek around the country with a four-track in his backpack, he says; now he's fliering the record stores and chatting up local bands on Internet dating services—www.makeoutclub.com, if you must know—until work, school and gas prices relent a little. For Dishon, it's all raw creativity just a blank tape away from immortality—artifact as much as art, with the ultimate decision for posterity to make. Masterpiece or mess, he wants it all. So print his phone number, he says.

Even if it'll make a bunch of dumbasses call?

"Bring on the dumbasses in garage bands," he grins. "I'll be glad to record them."