Tim McGregor is what some would call a right-brained person. He analyzes situations and people with an almost pinpoint accuracy; however, he’s most interested in subjects of the unexplained –metaphysics, past life regressions and the inter-workings of the mind.

The way in which he contemplates life or anything else for that matter is always intense and fascinating, and it always seems to exhaust his listeners. He’s extremely intelligent and it’s obvious he processes the world around him at lightning speed. Perhaps this is why he’s able to pull off being a computer geek by day and a rock star by night so well.

McGregor, a Hermosa Beach resident, is the drummer of Pseudopod, a band signed to the Interscope label more than two years ago. He first began playing the drums at the age of 8 and continued to perfect his craft over time (he still practices at least two hours a day). Eventually he helped to form the group while attending UCLA. 

Pseudopod’s humble beginnings sprouted up in the Theta Xi fraternity house at UCLA where both McGregor and longtime friend and the band’s guitarist Ross Grant became one of the brothers in the hopes of convincing an active member, Kevin Carlberg, to sing in the group.

They later recruited bassist Brian Fox who was in the middle of earning his master’s degree in ethnomusicology from UCLA’s music program. Aussie native Matt Keegan rounded out the quintet as its saxophonist after meeting the boys as a college exchange student enrolled in UCLA’s jazz studies program for two quarters through the university-sponsored Chancellor Committee Scholarship.

Pseudopod (originally named Pod) independently recorded and produced its first self-titled album in the summer of 1998 while living at Theta Xi.

The band later recorded “Rest Assured” after winning IUMA’s Best College Band in America contest and receiving $10,000, money that was to be used solely for such a project. Interscope inked its deal with the group in 2000 and recorded its major label record entitled, “Pseudopod” released in record stores everywhere in August.

In recent months, Pseudopod has endured its most poignant peaks and pitfalls to date. Following more than a yearlong process with many outcomes, which seemed to become increasingly ambiguous, Keegan finally received his U.S. work visa. In November, Carlberg, while on the road, discovered he had a brain tumor the size of a walnut growing on the frontal right lobe.

The band rushed home and canceled its most expansive and high-profile tour of its career while Carlberg underwent surgery at UCLA Medical Center to have the tumor removed along with radiation and chemotherapy following the procedure.

The band had suddenly accrued more spare time than it knew what to do with while waiting for Carlberg to recuperate.

“Yeah, Pseudopod is my main band, my main squeeze,” says McGregor. “Ever since the band took a break, I’ve been looking for things to do.”

In that time, McGregor learned how to design Web sites and took up work on his other pet projects such as recording an album with his acid jazz band, Dogfysh, joining two funk groups and assisting his brother in launching a new software company.

Carlberg is now tumor-free and continues to improve every day. The band just recently started gigging again and it will join the band O.A.R. (Of A Revolution) for a six-week tour beginning in March.

The Beach Reporter sat down with McGregor recently in his Hermosa Avenue apartment after returning from a Pseudopod gig in San Francisco at the Red Devil Lounge where he played to a sold-out crowd of 450 in a club that only held 230.

“This place was so packed I could barely find a way backstage,” he recalls. “For us it was incredible and next time we may be able to play at a place like Slim’s or the Great American Music Hall.”

Contrary to popular belief, touring isn’t full of girls, drinking and spending time vacationing in far-away cities. It’s actually a tiring experience filled with a great deal of driving, eating at franchise restaurants, and spending time away from friends and family.

“We tour in a Ford Econoline van which can get really smelly inside,” McGregor explains. “Someone always takes off their shoes and their feet usually always stink and chances are if we’ve stopped off at the local Denny’s or Cracker Barrel someone always has bad gas. You really can’t sleep because you get a crick in your neck or you get what we call ‘B.G. back.’ I love touring though; playing live is the best part of being a musician. “

B.G., which stands for Brian Goldman, is McGregor’s roommate and the band’s road manager. Since taking a touring break, B.G. spends most of his day sitting around on the couch in his bathrobe watching the plethora of reality series currently airing on television.

“We named it ‘B.G. back’ because B.G. has a really bad back due to his poor diet, lack of exercise and general negative outlook on the future,” jokes McGregor. “On the road we get a daily stipend, and probably spend about $5 a day and save the rest to pay bills when we return home. When I’m not on the road, mentally, I go insane and financially, I run pretty thin.”

Touring is how Pseudopod makes its money until it is able to expand its fan base. The band’s record sales are modest and it will most likely increase once the label releases a single from the album to radio stations across the country in the coming months.

“The myth is that once you sign a record deal, you become instantly rich and famous,” says McGregor. “The music industry is a tough business and you can get jaded, but there’s nothing like finding out your singer has a brain tumor to put things into perspective. You can’t take everything you do too seriously in this business. If you do, then you’ll end up blowing your head off. You just have to ignore it when you see those talentless people all over popular culture media like MTV who all look the same and are singing the same kind of songs they most likely didn’t write.

“My goal is to play good music and I satirize my other music projects as a kind of catharsis. I mean look at the name of our acid jazz band: Dogfysh. What the hell is that?”

Later that day, McGregor spends time working on his Web sites and takes time off from the tedious process by playing video games. He then excitedly puts on a Brad Mehldau (famous jazz pianist) record and discusses the tune with Keegan. This small group of guys, all of whom are musicians, think about music every minute of the day by either exchanging the works of those who have inspired them or by simply picking up their instruments and playing what comes into their heads. As musicians, Keegan, Grant and McGregor share an unspoken and uncanny connection with one another.

McGregor leaves the apartment around 3 p.m. and travels to an old garage in Hollywood where they have a rehearsal with Dogfysh. Later that night McGregor and his fellow band mates — Grant and Keegan — head down to the Mermaid Restaurant to talk about life over a few cocktails.

“I hate waiting in lines and I hate big crowds, and that’s why I like The Mermaid,” says McGregor. “Going to The Mermaid is one of the top three things to do in the South Bay. I actually like to get a cocktail without standing around for hours and sit down next to a person where I can actually hear what they’re saying.”