Aza wasn't always a musical type - in the beginning he put his inferior vision and comically high prescription lenses to use making Christmas cards in Microsoft Paint, and programming in C.
Aza was so proud of his state of the art computer, fully loaded with 2MB of RAM, that he boasted how he could load Windows 3.1 in under seventeen minutes. Aza's digital snobbery soon left him isolated from his former friends, being labelled as a 'nerd', 'lardass', and 'Dr. Robotnik'. Feeling unable to hold on to any social credibility, he retreated back to his computer - in the dark and secluded basement of his parent's flat.
This isolation allowed his obsession with his machine to flourish, and he developed an unnatural tendency to write poetry in machine code - a twisted form of love letter, in a format his silicon sweetheart could understand.
It wasn't until his 713th compiler error that he began beating on his keyboard, and it was a good six hours later before he stopped. However, when he did - he found he could pound the keys in such a rhythmic way, that his anger immediately dissipated. Curious as to how this physical violence could be so therapeutic, he proceeded to write and compile his code again, and pound on his keyboard once more.
This heretofore undiscovered form of rhythmic rehabilitation gave Aza something his machine never could - a feeling of expression, exhilaration, and exercise. Before long, he was crafting hollow boxes made from beaten computer components and peripherals, and was left with a pseudo drum set.
Unfortunately for Aza, playing drums also isolated him from those around him, which only made him angrier, and more determined to vent his rage on that makeshift instrument.
At the time, Aza didn't realise that his parents' tolerance for living with him had reached absolute zero. Unable to cope with the constant cacophonous din, they moved out of the flat without him even realising. He was so engrossed in his new-found activity that it was a good five years before an estate agent managed to sell the flat, complete with drummer. By pure coincidence, it was Joe and Eddie that moved in, and were looking for a drummer, for their experminentational rehabilitation exhibition, known as the This way, GO! project. After demanding 13 reasons why he should join the band, Aza decided he no longer needed to stand alone, and jumped at the chance to get his life back on track.
Aza never did discover that the error causing his computer to crash was a missing semicolon on line 972 of his code. With This way GO! now keeping him strictly away from any computational activities, it's likely he will never know...