Truth
Band Story
**THE TRUTH: ROCK REDEMPTION, BROTHERHOOD, AND THE SOUND OF SECOND CHANCES**
Reunions in rock aren’t always about nostalgia. Sometimes, they’re about unfinished business, brotherhood, and finally getting it right. That’s the story behind *The Truth*—a band forged in the smoky corners of Pittsburgh’s music scene and reborn at the tail end of the ’90s with a clearer mission and tighter bond than ever before.
In late 1998, five longtime friends and seasoned players—Dave, Brian, Bobby, Geo, and Rick—quietly began jamming again. No press releases, no big comeback hype. Just five guys in a room, rekindling old friendships and rediscovering the chemistry that once lit up local stages. “Rick and Bobby were still honoring commitments as freelance players,” recalls Brian, “so we weren’t in any rush. We just wanted to play and talk like friends again.”
The passage of time hadn’t dulled their edge—it had sharpened it. They’d all grown, not just as musicians, but as men. “The stuff that pissed you off at 21 doesn’t really matter when you hit your late twenties,” says Rick. “You drop the ego, you play your part, and you work for something bigger than yourself.”
By 1999, the jams turned into sessions, the sessions into songs, and soon enough, the band was laying down tracks for their debut album, *Dying to Live*. Along the way, they ditched the Stone Romeo moniker, reaching back to a name Geo had floated back in ’91—*The Truth*. Bobby threw it back on the table during a rehearsal, and this time, it stuck.
“The name says it all,” says Bobby. “We write strong, memorable rock songs. Not formulaic. Not arrogant. Just real music that people can sing, live, and feel.”
And that’s exactly what *Dying to Live* delivers. Dropping in early 2001 at Pittsburgh’s indie record shops, the album doesn’t wallow in the angst and cynicism that dominated much of ’90s rock. Instead, it pushes toward the light—without ever sounding soft. “Life isn’t always great,” says Geo, the primary writer on the record, “but we’re not about being jaded. This album is about pushing through.”
You’ll hear that attitude from the opening riffs to the closing chords. The title track is a rallying cry for resilience. “Three Margaritas” and “Farmer’s Daughter” showcase the band’s upbeat, cheeky side, while “Nothing In Particular” proves you don’t need a specific reason to feel good. Then they pivot seamlessly—slipping into the smoky waltz of “One of Those Things,” the Latin-infused pulse of “Calles de Muerte,” and the politically-charged bite of “Don’t Put Your X On Me.”
But it’s not all muscle and movement. *The Truth* shows its softer side with the power ballad “Desiré” and goes full anthem on the guitar-soaked closer “Water Street”—a song that feels tailor-made for raised lighters and big-stage finales.
Recorded by Dave Hanner and mixed by Sean McDonald, the album hangs together with tight production and melodic threads that never let go, even as the band plays with a wide range of textures and genres.
Still, this isn’t just a studio story. For The Truth, the stage is where it all comes alive. “We’re all at a point where we can relax and let loose on stage,” says frontman Dave Lindauer. “The chops are there, so now it’s just about giving fans a show that’s tight, raw, and fun as hell.”
In 2001, they’re hitting the ground running—bringing that hard-won maturity, musical muscle, and rock-and-roll grit to every stage they touch.
That’s The Truth—the whole truth—and nothing but. So get ready, because this time, they’ve got something to say... and they’re saying it loud.
Reunions in rock aren’t always about nostalgia. Sometimes, they’re about unfinished business, brotherhood, and finally getting it right. That’s the story behind *The Truth*—a band forged in the smoky corners of Pittsburgh’s music scene and reborn at the tail end of the ’90s with a clearer mission and tighter bond than ever before.
In late 1998, five longtime friends and seasoned players—Dave, Brian, Bobby, Geo, and Rick—quietly began jamming again. No press releases, no big comeback hype. Just five guys in a room, rekindling old friendships and rediscovering the chemistry that once lit up local stages. “Rick and Bobby were still honoring commitments as freelance players,” recalls Brian, “so we weren’t in any rush. We just wanted to play and talk like friends again.”
The passage of time hadn’t dulled their edge—it had sharpened it. They’d all grown, not just as musicians, but as men. “The stuff that pissed you off at 21 doesn’t really matter when you hit your late twenties,” says Rick. “You drop the ego, you play your part, and you work for something bigger than yourself.”
By 1999, the jams turned into sessions, the sessions into songs, and soon enough, the band was laying down tracks for their debut album, *Dying to Live*. Along the way, they ditched the Stone Romeo moniker, reaching back to a name Geo had floated back in ’91—*The Truth*. Bobby threw it back on the table during a rehearsal, and this time, it stuck.
“The name says it all,” says Bobby. “We write strong, memorable rock songs. Not formulaic. Not arrogant. Just real music that people can sing, live, and feel.”
And that’s exactly what *Dying to Live* delivers. Dropping in early 2001 at Pittsburgh’s indie record shops, the album doesn’t wallow in the angst and cynicism that dominated much of ’90s rock. Instead, it pushes toward the light—without ever sounding soft. “Life isn’t always great,” says Geo, the primary writer on the record, “but we’re not about being jaded. This album is about pushing through.”
You’ll hear that attitude from the opening riffs to the closing chords. The title track is a rallying cry for resilience. “Three Margaritas” and “Farmer’s Daughter” showcase the band’s upbeat, cheeky side, while “Nothing In Particular” proves you don’t need a specific reason to feel good. Then they pivot seamlessly—slipping into the smoky waltz of “One of Those Things,” the Latin-infused pulse of “Calles de Muerte,” and the politically-charged bite of “Don’t Put Your X On Me.”
But it’s not all muscle and movement. *The Truth* shows its softer side with the power ballad “Desiré” and goes full anthem on the guitar-soaked closer “Water Street”—a song that feels tailor-made for raised lighters and big-stage finales.
Recorded by Dave Hanner and mixed by Sean McDonald, the album hangs together with tight production and melodic threads that never let go, even as the band plays with a wide range of textures and genres.
Still, this isn’t just a studio story. For The Truth, the stage is where it all comes alive. “We’re all at a point where we can relax and let loose on stage,” says frontman Dave Lindauer. “The chops are there, so now it’s just about giving fans a show that’s tight, raw, and fun as hell.”
In 2001, they’re hitting the ground running—bringing that hard-won maturity, musical muscle, and rock-and-roll grit to every stage they touch.
That’s The Truth—the whole truth—and nothing but. So get ready, because this time, they’ve got something to say... and they’re saying it loud.
Band Members
Dave Lindauer - Lead Vox, Background Vox - Geo Bennett - Guitar, Background Vox - Brian Osburn - Bass, Background Vox - Bobby Kunkel - Drums, Background Vox
Dave Lindauer - Lead Vox, Background Vox - Geo Bennett - Guitar, Background Vox - Brian Osburn - Bass, Background Vox - Bobby Kunkel - Drums, Background Vox
Location: AMERICA NORTH: USA: Pennsylvania (PA)
Genre: Rock