On a cold New York January winter evening in 2013, Pat Via and Mitch Mitchell had not yet met, but were making their way separately through the snow covered West Village streets to a gallery opening on Jane Street, never expecting the twist of fate the night would unveil.
On a cold New York January winter evening in 2013, Pat Via and Mitch Mitchell had not yet met, but were making their way separately through the snow covered West Village streets to a gallery opening on Jane Street, never expecting the twist of fate the night would unveil. Once there, Pat was making the rounds, clad in downtown black from head to toe, weaving through the crowd, whiskey in hand, with one eye on the art and the other on the Soho amazons gathered there that night, when a friend offered to introduce him to a fellow musician, Mitchell C. Mitchell, who was boisterously holding court in a back corner of the gallery, his face hidden beneath a fedora and a mane of unruly hair, his neon colored fingernails weaving nimbly through the air as he spoke.
The two immediately hit it off, debating the rumor that Rock and Roll was officially dead, Bach concertos, girls wearing miniskirts in winter, and other such things one discusses on the way to the bottom of a bottle. As they parted ways that night, they agreed that Rock was very much still alive and just needed a swift kick in the ass to get it going again, so they arranged to meet for a jam session the following day, and January Jane was born.
Thins progessed quickly from there and they began playing shows around NYC and recorded their first EP. A few months after they released their “No More Last Times” EP, another New York City night cast its spell and delivered yet another surprise, when after wrapping up a show they were invited to a private gathering at a loft in the Meat Packing District: As they walked through the door they heard the sound of a piano rising from the center of a crowd that had gathered in a circle around the source of the music. They were immediately drawn in, and pushed their way past the pack to the grand piano in the center of the room, where they saw Peter Scialla manning the keys from within the eye of the hurricane. Peter seemed to sense their presence and looked up briefly from his keyboard, waving them over, before returning his gaze to the black and white keys in front of him. As the night progressed and they made their way through another bottle, singing and playing together to the impromptu crowd, they all realized they had found the missing piece, and Peter became part of January Jane
Since then, the band hasn’t stopped, signing a deal with Whiskey Vinyl Records, recording tracks in Los Angeles and NY for their soon to be released full length debut, and gearing up for a tour later this year