"I've had people who don't like hiphop tell me that mine is the only hiphop they like," Storm says, as he gazes with sly adoration at his own reflection in what appears to be a vat of Jack Daniels on the table in front of him. "And hiphop cats have told me that the music I make isn't really hiphop, but they like it."

The twentysomething emcee runs his hand over his Oakland A's baseball cap, as if searching for any trace evidence left behind by whoever is responsible for planting his words at this worrisome crossroad. Or perhaps he is grazing for the tiny platypus he insists is in the room with him at all times, watching, judging. He gazes at the floor, his eyes following the path of a used-bubblegum-coated baseball that has inexplicably fallen out of his pants pocket.

"So I imagine I'm either doomed or blessed. I guess we'll see."

Storm Davis first freestyled on a Providence, Rhode Island, city bus in 1989. He battled a female volleyball player from a cross-city high school. She won.

Undaunted, he began to seriously rap as a joke in 1993, recording horrifying lo-fi demos with a mysterious karaoke DJ named The Snail. These sessions found their way into local shops between 1994 and 1996, manifesting as two appalling mixtapes that have luckily disappeared from the public consciousness.

Storm spent most of the late 1990s beginning and ending projects with numerous collaborators far more talented than himself, always dropping out to foolishly attempt to adapt himself to a more conventional lifestyle that was destined not to take.

He entered freestyle battle competitions, recorded some mixtape 'exclusives,' and generally leaned against the wall during the earliest hours of this underground hip hop party.

He perfected an earth-shattering Jason Priestley impression. This did little to further his career.

Around the turn of the century, Storm dabbled in the Providence coffee shop spoken word scene, and still clings to the delusional notion that he had something to do with local cafe Cup of Joes winning the 2000 Providence Phoenix Best Spoken Word/Open Mic selection (he was a featured weekly performer).

Davis then began working in the independent film scene, as well as at a boutique music label/management company, in the hopes of helping to further the careers of associates and other artists he was certain were better than he. Both ventures ended in disaster.

In late 2003, standing amidst the smoldering ruins of a once promising life with nothing but a resume heavily tilted toward the loss column and pounds of pages of unrecorded songs, SD finally decided that intense drive, clear vision, and an unwillingness to accept reality were far more important than astounding talent.

Thus he began recording a proper debut album, called KEGSTAND POETRY FOR THE RECOVERING ALCOHOLIC, crafting literate, personal lyrics true to the legacies of forgotten hip hop legends like Justin Warfield, Divine Styler, and Wise Intelligent of Poor Righteous Teachers, melded with melodic sensibilities inspired by artists like Faith No More, Kilgore (Smudge), and ex-House of Pain frontman Everlast.

The LP arrived in stores in May 2006 to a whirlwind of raised eyebrows, moderate apathy, and the unbridled glee of the occasional diehard devotee.

In 2004, Storm joined forces with a cadre of New England's finest emcees and producers to form Poorly Drawn People, the latest in this nauseating wave of overly-emotional underground hiphop crews that swurrr to gawd they gon change da game... they won't... neither will PDP... but, the music is rather impressive.

Storm would appreciate it greatly if you stayed tuned as the saga continues to unfold.