I’ve been orbiting music for most of my life—sometimes right in the middle of it, sometimes watching from the edges, and sometimes rediscovering it in the most unexpected ways.
My connection to Kenn Kweder goes all the way back to the early ’70s. Back then I was just another kid with a guitar, annoying the neighbors from my row‑home basement in southwest Philadelphia. My friends and I played loud and learned slow. During one particular “band” phase, we were rehearsing in our drummer’s house on Dowitcher Place in SWP. Our mutual friend, Al Fichera, lived across the street, and one night he and Kenn dropped by. We played together backing Kenn's vocals but nothing really clicked.
Not long after my close friend Ed McCormick joined our band as drummer. Ed and I were inseparable—we moved our gear to my house and kept trying to get something off the ground. Back then we spent a few hours with Al hanging out in Kenn’s basement soaking up the chaos and creativity of the time. Eventually Al went off to college and Kenn formed the Secret Kidds.
Ed was more driven than I was to become a working musician, and his cousin Perry Artese was already involved in producing. Meanwhile, I was starting a career and a relationship, and my priorities shifted away from playing. Ed connected with the Kidds through Perry and joined the lineup as Dr. Bugaboo. Kenny didn’t actually steal our drummer—but I still enjoy saying he did.
During Ed’s early days with the Kidds, I occasionally mingled with Kenn, Ed, Denny, Spook, Franny, and the rest of that crew. We pillaged a few bars along the way, but the scene was a little too wild for me. I got married in '79, moved to New Jersey, and drifted into normalcy for the next few decades.
Fast‑forward about 35 years. I’m living in South Carolina, running my own design business, far removed from my musical past. In 2013, my sister and her husband opened a restaurant on Market Street in Old City Philadelphia called 4 Fathers. It became a popular spot and featured live music. During a visit to SC, she mentioned the great turnout they got when Kenn Kweder played there, and I nearly fell out of my chair. They didn’t know my history with Kenn, and I didn’t know theirs—one of those "small world" moments. I started following Kenn again on Facebook and made casual contact through my sister’s connection. After 50+ years of crossing paths, it’s funny to realize that—although fringe at best—Kenn is one of my oldest friends.
As my work life began winding down, I started did a few small graphic design projects for Kenn (The Men from Wawa and Sixers stickers are my artwork.) I also found my way back into music by learning the ins and outs of Suno, an incredibly powerful AI music creation tool. Late last year, I began producing some of my own tracks from old recordings. When Kenn showed interest in AI technology, this crazy cover‑album idea was born. The Kweder Kovers project is part nostalgia, part creative experiment, and a full‑circle rediscovery of a musical life that never really left me. - dp