Ex-Rocker Keeps On Rollin'

By TODD LESKANIC The Tampa Tribune

Published: Jul 22, 2007

SAN ANTONIO - Sitting on the massive skateboard ramp outside his Curley Road warehouse, Andre Corbin tried to sound upbeat about the crushing financial problems pushing him to the edge of ruin.

"I owe $4,000 on a car I don't even have anymore," the energetic, 40-year-old metal guitarist turned entrepreneur said, smiling.

His smile doesn't hide the fact that he's nearly broke, though. After striking it big in the niche industry of repairing automotive computers, Corbin in recent years has lost the luxury cars he bought for himself and his wife and watched a failing business drain away thousands of dollars each month; now, he faces foreclosure on the four-acre San Antonio property he bought in 2004.

He's been here before. A risk-taker with little formal education, Corbin got a taste of stardom 20 years ago as a guitarist with an up-and-coming heavy metal band Helstar, only to see things fall apart two years later after clashing with the band's founder.

Within a few years, Corbin was skinny, broke and living in a Houston warehouse, without a phone, car or hot water.

When, at age 27, he got his first "real" job waterproofing buildings for $8 an hour, it seemed like a break.

Corbin's family never had much money when he was growing up. His father left when he was 6, leaving his mother to raise him and his three older brothers. Dovie Corbin, whose only prior experience was as a stay-at-home mom, worked two jobs to support her boys.

Corbin rebelled as he got older, experimenting with drugs and alcohol and getting kicked out of school in the seventh grade.

"Often, I was glad just to hold on to him by his big toe and keep him alive and out of jail," his mother said.

A devotion to the guitar steered him away from trouble. By 17, the rough years were about over, and he was busy learning riffs and chords. Dovie Corbin opened her house to her son's friends, who practiced there. Corbin studied the best of the musicians he played with.

"Whenever I would meet someone who was better, I would try to learn everything I could," he said. "Or I would jam with someone who was better. It wasn't a conscious thing, but then I would move on."

As a kid, Corbin began following Helstar, an underground metal group from Houston. In 1987, he sent a tape after learning the band was looking for a guitarist; days later, he was on a plane to Hollywood.

Corbin played on two Helstar albums, "A Distant Thunder" and "Nosferatu," and toured with the band across the United States and Europe. Money remained scarce, though, even though the group opened for better-known metal bands such as Megadeth, Stryper, Slayer and Anthrax.

Corbin left the band in 1990, confident his guitar skills would quickly land him a gig with another band. Four years of failure left him exhausted, depressed and penniless.

These days, Corbin plays for himself and his family, though he's still highly regarded in some metal circles. He turns up on MySpace pages as someone people would like to meet and still gets the occasional piece of fan mail.

Corbin walked away from the music business, but he never lost his drive to be the best.

"I can't stand to put up with people's self-delusions," he said. "Anyone can get a guitar and run an ad and say, 'I want to be in a band now.' But really, it's hard to find people who are good enough to produce quality music.

"I have a real high standard for what I do. It's got to be kick-ass if I'm going to put my name on it."

Learning A New Profession

Corbin became a nine-to-fiver in 1994. He was waterproofing buildings and, in his spare time, learning to repair automotive computers for extra money.

In 1999, his mom, who lived in Dade City, became ill; Corbin and his wife, Tracy, moved from Houston to Tampa to be closer to her. Corbin soon tired of the waterproofing business and began making the rounds to local auto repair shops, telling owners he could repair the computers.

"It became my sole obsession," he said. "I would stay up late at night and e-mail repair shops, used part places, dealerships."

Slowly, he built up a business. In 2001, he incorporated as Foreign Auto Computer Repair, Inc. The business exploded. His two-bedroom apartment filled up with computer parts, and his bank account filled with cash. In its best year, Foreign Auto grossed more than $600,000.

Corbin bought a building in the Sulphur Springs area of Tampa and moved the business there. He bought a $138,000 Mercedes-Benz for himself and a $50,000 Benz for his wife. Then he bought the Houston waterproofing business that had hired him in 1994.

A Lost Love

In 2003, Corbin took his son Jacob to the Tony Hawk Boom Boom HuckJam in Tampa. Seeing the skaters rekindled his interest in the sport he'd abandoned for music more than 20 years before.

"It was in my face," he said. "I always loved it, and I was thinking, 'Hey, I can do that. I'm not too old to do that.'"

He began frequenting the Skatepark of Tampa. Within six months, he had a $30,000 vert ramp built near his Sulphur Springs building. The skaters called it the "Ghetto Ramp" because of its seedy surroundings.

Soon, Corbin realized Tampa had its share of talented skaters who had no financial backing. He formed Ghetto Skateboards to sponsor a few of them. The company is simply a brand name Corbin uses, though he sells shirts and boards emblazoned with the logo out of his office.

In 2004, he sold the Sulphur Springs building and moved everything to Curley Road, including the ramp.

The vert ramp proved too large for the Curley Road warehouse, so Corbin built a second ramp inside using the original ramp's top-layer finishing.

The warehouse, with its large cooling fans and hollow echoes, has become a destination for local skaters.

Business Begins To Struggle

Then Corbin's luck soured again.

While he still makes money fixing automotive computers, the waterproofing business is failing. He consolidated the debt into his mortgage payment, which has ballooned to almost $4,000 a month.

The Mercedes he drove was repossessed more than a year ago. His wife's car is also gone, as is the 1969 Corvette Stingray he restored.

Last year, he suffered a severe leg injury in a skateboarding accident, for which he still owes about $36,000.

His mother recently went to Houston, trying to sell the waterproofing business. Unloading that operation and all its headaches probably would allow him to hold onto the Curley Road property and keep the skateboard business and ramp open.

While his financial pressures weigh on him, Corbin said he doesn't regret the choices he's made. Taking risks made him a lot of money.

"I have the pressure of the debts but, honestly, I have a smile on my face most of the day," he said. "There's nothing you can do about those things. Those are major problems. I only worry about the small things I can change on a daily basis."

Now, though, Corbin just wants to keep what he has left.

"I won't be trying to start companies on a whim anymore," he said. "I'll pretty much stick with what I've got. I learned a lesson there about stretching myself too thin and not being able to focus on one business."

Reporter Todd Leskanic can be reached at (352) 521-3156 or tleskanic@tampatrib.com.