One day while Scott was playing the zembigoue (zem-big-owee), an instrument of his own creation which incorporated three stings, a turtle shell, and a vacant bee-hive, he was intruded upon by a band of gypsies who were travelling discreetly through the Albanian bush. Upon hearing the beautiful melodies and powerful rhythms of the zembigoue, the gypsies kidnapped Scott who was then only thirteen at the time. While at first he was devastated by the separation from his family, Scott soon saw that travelling with the gypsies was exactly what he had been longing for ever since the breast-feeding had subsided.
Years passed and Scott soon found himself as the star musician of the gypsies. The people of Albania (who usually hated the presence of the gypsies) would scream and cheer and give a hero's welcome when Scott and the gypsies would come into town. The would usually stay in each town for about a week and give legendary performances every day and every night. For those of you not in tune with Albanian culture, the shows and the atmosphere surrounding them resembled something like a Grateful Dead show (minus the LSD, high ticket prices, tie-dyes, and teleprompters). The smell of ethnic cuisine filled your nose right when you'd step outside your door. The beautiful colors of the celebatory clothing dominated your sight. The sounds of the music were intoxicating and mind-altering. Men, women, and children would be dancing in the streets with total abandon. It was a great time to be alive and a gypsy in Albania. Unfortunately, all of this would soon change.
During his last performance (though no one knew it was his last at the time), Scott was in the middle of a powerful zembigoue solo when all of the sudden this intense and very different feeling came over him. While his solos were normally beautiful and melodic, this one began veering into dissonance and violence. While it scared the listeners, Scott and the band were excited to be mining new musical territory. As the solo shifted and the band followed, the people became more and more perplexed and increasingly upset. The music built and built and built and just when it felt like one's head could explode from the intensity, Scott raised the zembigoue above his head...held it there for a second....and then SMASHED it onto the stage with TREMENDOUS force shattering the instrument into a thousand pieces. The crowd was dumbstruck, but quickly found it's footing and began attacking Scott and the band. They were run back into the bush, where they were forced to stay until this day.
Fortunately though (for the Grace Potter and the Nocturnals fan), Scott had discovered American rock and roll and the electric guitar during his travels with the gypsies. His love for the music (particularly that of Jimi Hendrix and the Who) was what had inspired the zembigoue smashing. The gypsies thought the American music was evil and were angry at Scott for exiling them once again, so they kicked him out of the band. Destitute, with only a Fender telecaster, Scott snuck onto a cruise ship which landed him in Nova Scotia in early 2002. He made his way down the coast of Canada, busking along the way to survive. He soon found himself further west and in the capital of Ottowa. It was in there, one day while in a used record store, that he bumped into Grace Potter and Matt Burr. There was one copy of The Band's self-titled album left in the bins and Potter and Burr layed their hands on it just as Scott did. A fight ensued in which Potter kicked Scott's ass and then kicked Burr's ass (even though Matt was on her side). When Scott regained conciousness, he said..."any woman that can kick my ass and likes the Band is worth joining forces with". Potter and Burr both laughed and invited Scott to stay with them at their home in Canton, NY. The rest is history.