Guitar geniuses like White Gold (SM) aren’t just born–they’re honed. Crafted. Perfected. It’s not genetic coding; there isn’t a strand of DNA that automatically infuses an artist with milk in his veins and calcium in his bones. For this maestro, consumption was the only way to be reborn and set free.
Before the luscious white mane, the four-hour guitar solos and ripped abdominals, there was White Gold, the man. A mess of frail hair, a dull smile and a scrawny body. It was a rockless bottom for White Gold. He couldn’t finish a three-song set without being booed off the stage and thrown out onto the street.
Then something changed. White Gold’s voice started sounding like nothing ever heard before–was it voice training or was he more well rested? His sculpted biceps were shredding his T-shirts. His skin had a sexy, healthy glow.
Gossip columns questioned whether White Gold had work done. He strongly denied it, saying, “Everyone needs to chill, like my milk does. It’s all good. I’m just a vessel for the white genius to flow.”
About this time, White Gold met musical phenoms Skimberly and Wholena, now known around the world as “The Calcium Twins.” (SM) The twins’ unrivaled musical talent, matched only by their bewitching good looks, catapulted White Gold’s (SM) unique sound to an unparalleled new level. Together, they released “Ends, Split Ends.” They began selling out venues, and their infectious single “The Milkionaire” began to snowball.
White Gold and the Calcium Twins (SM) latest and most anticipated album "The Best I Can Give Is 2% (SM)" will be available on WhiteGoldIsWhiteGold.com April 7. The album will contain five new tracks and is scheduled to be released on iTunes later this spring.
(read less)Guitar geniuses like White Gold (SM) aren’t just born–they’re honed. Crafted. Perfected. It’s not genetic coding; there isn’t a strand of DNA that automatically infuses an artist with milk in his veins and calcium in his bones. For this maestro, consumption was the only way to be reborn and set free.
Before the luscious white mane, the four-hour guitar solos and ripped abdominals, there was White Gold, the man. A mess of frail hair, a dull smile and a scrawny body. It was a rockless bottom...
(read more)
