A thin and hardened fellow who'll be the first to tell you that he’ll never be mistaken for a gentleman disengages from an old but beautiful Triumph motorcycle. He takes his time. There's no way to know that you're looking at a man who has lived with Ava Gardner in Spain... or a man who was engaged to the daughter of Alan Ladd... or just a guy that ran a Beverly Hills five-star restaurant that was a breeding ground for the rich and famous of Hollywood’s golden era. Bob's a gravelly voiced shoot from the hip veteran of several different types of war. First and foremost he’s a veteran of a long and rocky life of detours punctuated with instant gratification and rare opportunity. He's left with a well-earned noble and deep-lined face, a dark and bluesy sense of humor that could cut glass, a little pocket change and a couple of oil stained guitars that seem to follow him around like loyal pups. Bob’s a very accomplished player and these worn in instruments gladly sing their part with him. For decades Bob Westbrook has actually lived the message his songs deliver. This is vintage whiskey - fully aged and ready to sip. It's time to pay respect to your elders, and here's one that makes that case with a quiet and eloquent tenacity. Bob has played all the famous folk clubs in LA - The Ash Grove, Cosmo's Alley, and The Unicorn. He has won fortunes and lost fortunes and this odyssey has left him with a unique take on Life. Ever the rebel, Bob arrives at a gig on that classic 1966 Triumph 650 motorcycle with his guitar slung over his back, defying all conventions of what you'd expect from a man of his years. But that's Bob - one of a kind and kind of a one. He writes and sings with the sincerity and conviction that many may never comprehend. I've seen him many times and he never fails to surprise and delight any kind of audience. WKS

UPDATE - My friend Bob Westbrook passed away on March 25, 2007. This was a man that knew both the warmest and coldest extremes in every capacity and thrived on getting as much out of life as he could manage... and always encouraged those around him to do the same. Bob was hardly a perfect man... but I insist that it's the imperfection in people that we learn to love... never the perfection. Bob could offend you without attempting to do so... and then fill you with the purest of laughs only moments later... but this was a man that always wanted the very best for his friends and those around him and nothing is more important than that ever-lasting good will. He will be missed... as only good men are missed. Peacefully ride that rusty old Triumph off into the sunset dear old friend... a beat up guitar with an everlasting tuning awaits your gifted hands... DPJ