THIS IS QUALITY DRUGS

TL;DR: TWO YEARS SOBER. RUNNING A GROWTH MARKETING SHOP FOR BOUTIQUE MUSIC GEAR BUILDERS CALLED QUALITY DRUGS.

Today is my two-year sober anniversary. That means it’s been 730 days since I’ve had a drink. So, naturally, me and my fellow sober business partner started a growth marketing shop called QUALITY DRUGS.

The irony isn’t lost on us. We picked the name on purpose. It’s funny, but it also means something. It’s about the rush of doing work that actually matters to us, after spending years in rooms we didn’t want to be in, selling things we didn’t believe in.

THE TECH YEARS AND THE OLD PNW HILLBILLY HUSTLE.

Back in 2015, 2018, and again in 2023, I made several wholehearted attempts at starting creative‑marketing “agencies.”

The truth is a little depressing. I spent nearly 20 years in marketing for tech: consumer-facing campaigns, B2B branding, SaaS positioning — the whole nine yards.

I helped our tech overlords sell shiny promises to jittery investors. I built messaging frameworks, sat in conference rooms, chased KPIs, tried to align brand voice with earnings forecasts. I largely helped things succeed — but maybe not-so-secretly, I hated it. Still, it paid an old hillbilly from the backwoods of rural Washington State to eke out a living doing creative work.

SOBRIETY. RISTRETTO. A PERSONAL AND PROFESSIONAL REBOOT.

Then 2023 happened. I left my last tech‑exec job at year’s end and… things got weird. I realized I was an alcoholic. So I got sober.

I made a strong attempt to rebuild my SaaS marketing career under the arm of an agency — named it Ristretto, because I told myself, “Hey, maybe this time I do it with taste.” I did a lot of market research. I talked to trusted friends. They said it was a good idea. I went for it.

I landed a few clients, built brand identities, built messaging frameworks. I took tons of meetings. I scribbled value props on napkins. I applied for jobs out of desperation and doubt. I went to AA meetings. I entered treatment. I played in bands. I recorded some music.

THE WORK WAS CLEAN. STILL HATED IT.

But I hated the work. I hated LinkedIn thought leadership. I couldn’t stomach the corporate types moonlighting as “content creators,” blurting out buzzwords and fake optimism about “scaling culture.” Shelling out fake advice to fake problems.

But I kept pushing. Because what else could I do? It was the only thing I knew.

Then budgets shrank. More meetings. Same broken promises. Invoices that never got paid. So I finally did what I should’ve done long ago: I quit. I quit tech for good. I resigned from the grind. It felt good.

SEEING THINGS CLEARLY. FINALLY.

More time passed. Clocked more miles on the sobriety odometer. I played more music. I started building a studio in my house. And I began to really see my friends — artists, bands, music gear brands — who build real things struggle.

I watched good, smart, and innovative creative minds spinning their wheels, getting squeezed out by a system obsessed with scale, acquisition numbers, and “efficiency.”

Then came my good friend and bandmate Matt Thomson, one of Portland’s great musicians and creative music minds. His studio, Echo Echo, was hemorrhaging. He had soulful, analog‑rock‑band magic baked into those walls. But evil overlord finance-bro automatons forced him out.

QUALITY DRUGS WAS BORN OUT OF A FAILED RESCUE MISSION

So my bandmate/collaborator Shawn Steven and I locked in. We said: “Let’s fix this.”

We built a content‑marketing engine. Shot a lot of video. Designed a client‑acquisition program. We brainstormed brand partnerships. We hustled like we were launching a new agency from the garage… because I guess that’s what we were doing.

There we were in the control room of Matt’s studio, looking at each other, and one of us asked, “Are we starting a creative agency right now?” And for a moment, maybe we believed it.

But we failed.

The “developer freaks” — white‑collar crooks with J.Crew polos and Cybertrucks — forced an honest business out of their home. A studio that had made records for iconic Portland-area rock bands for 25+ years. Gone.

That failure hit me like a punch. But anger is a hell of a motivator. It burned into me: I hated that the bad guys — who build nothing, who only care about margins and locked‑in users — were winning. I was sick of seeing vibrant creativity crushed under cold corporate ambition.

THE WORLD DOESN'T NEED ANOTHER AGENCY.

So I realized: the world doesn’t need another agency.

It doesn’t need more mood‑boards packaged as “thought leadership.”

It doesn’t need old marketing hacks repackaged for shiny new clients who don’t care about music or art or soul.

I don’t believe advertising changes the world. Hell, I don’t think marketing is all that important — not in a world stuffed with algorithms and AI brand marketing slop.

But I do believe in fighting for real. For the builders. The makers. The ones who sweat and bleed in basements and garages, who tune drums at 3 a.m. for the perfect take.

WHY QUALITY DRUGS EXISTS

That’s why QUALITY DRUGS was born.

What started as anger and frustration turned to excitement. We niched way down. Reached out to our music gear builder homies and started grinding for products we deeply believe in — and use every day.

Now? We’re mission‑driven. We help real brands and real creatives build — not for “growth,” but for legacy. For community. For impact.