A long time ago, in a galaxy suspiciously close to here, we were a Russian-speaking psych-rock band with an eight-person lineup. Yes, eight. Two guitars, bass, drums, djembe (because why not), two keyboards, and a backing singer. Basically, if you shook us, we’d rattle like a bag of percussion instruments.
One fateful day, someone—probably while hallucinating from too much "caffeine"—decided we needed to cover Pink Floyd’s "Money." Because nothing says “we’re ready” like odd time signatures and zero people who can play the solo.
Our keyboardists tried. They failed. Heroically. Constantin, our guitar wizard, squinted into the existential void and said,
“I know a guy.”
Next rehearsal, in walks this absurdly young, suspiciously serious-looking dude. He sits down, casually annihilates the solo with surgical precision, probably solving advanced calculus equations in his head simultaneously. Then, just to flex, he shreds through Deep Purple, ELP, Yes, and maybe summoned a small thunderstorm out of sheer force of will.
Our two keyboardists resigned the next day, citing “irreversible incompetence.” (They were actually great—we just watched their souls deflate like forgotten party balloons.)
The problem? We didn’t even know if the guy wanted to join us.
We asked.
He shrugged and said: "Yes."
And that’s how Igor “Iggy” Kurtzman accidentally became the backbone of Half Past Four. Since then, he’s been:
* A human jukebox (requests? Anything from Stravinsky to Mario Bros. to probably whale calls)
* The arranger, melody wizard, and knower of literally everyone’s parts (yes, including yours)
* Band treasurer, promoter, tour organizer—basically our CEO, CFO, and GPS
* A jazz sorcerer who once jammed with faculty teachers just to see if they were real
Iggy’s the glue that held us together through thick, thin, and moments where gravity itself seemed optional.
It’s been an absolute honor to share this ride with him. Here’s to Iggy—the guy who said "Yes" and accidentally became the backbone of Half Past Four.