At age nine, John Schrader got this hard dose of reality when his father went into the hospital with stomach problems and was to have surgery for an ulcer. The surgeons opened him up and immediately closed him up again. The cancer was everywhere. He was given four months to live. It was almost four months to the day that he passed away.

As a boy, Schrader felt abandoned, angry, confused. Yet he carried on in his aspirations to be a musician. Snooping around in the attic when he was younger, he'd found a box of 45s and spun them endlessly—Elvis, Chuck Berry, Jerry Lee Lewis, the Beatles, Motown. He'd reluctantly taken violin lessons, then took up drums, and later taught himself guitar and piano.

Granted a scholarship to study music at Ulster County Community College, Schrader played every instrument he could get his hands on. Upon graduation, he began crafting songs and visiting recording studios. But he was experiencing some pain that had him puzzled. The 21-year-old was diagnosed with testicular cancer and was given three to five years to live.

"I just went numb," says Schrader. "I can't even describe it. I saw my mom age 10 years in a week. I was thinking about college and doing music, and suddenly I'm in doctor's offices and they're talking about Sloan Kettering [Cancer Center] in New York City. I found out that [testicular cancer] is the number one killer in men from 20 to 36. At 21, that's the last thing you want to hear."

Schrader had surgery the same week he was diagnosed. Luckily, all the cancer was removed. He avoided chemo but was nonetheless subjected to other sickening tests. Physically, he was fine. Emotionally, he felt a bit scrambled. "I had a lot of anger toward my father for years. I had moments of elation and joy. I battled moments of guilt for coming through it when my dad had died, and my uncle had died, and there are children in hospitals struggling for their lives. And here I am. What's the reason that I got through?"

Schrader persevered in his music. He'd saved quarters in a milk jug as his "studio fund," and when the jug was full, he learned the ropes from Eddie Flick at Salem Recording Studios in Port Ewen. Schrader returned to school to get a degree in film and audio production. He taught at SUNY New Paltz for a year in the media department and set up his own recording studio, JLS Sound, in Kingston (JLS are his father's initials). He used Robert Bard's Skytop Sound in New Paltz and Chris Andersen's Nevessa Productions in Woodstock for mixing and mastering.

His third CD, Daylight Crashing, will be released this summer, following on the heels of Discontent and Blood in the Wood. Schrader shot, directed, and edited three of his own music videos, has been a semifinalist in Billboard and Musician magazines' songwriting competitions, and has scored, recorded, and performed for numerous indie films and commercials.

If you dig classic rock like Mellencamp or Springsteen, hard rock, or even Top-40 power pop, Schrader is definitely worth checking out. His raspy, biting voice is an ideal layer to the driving intensity of his melodic hooks and upbeat grooves, and at times his passionate vocals are multilayered to produce a more prog-rock feel. Schrader's original and diverse stylings are solid, morphing from tough rock to the occasional piano-based ballad. There's an emotional depth that's hard to ignore.

He keeps it personal by writing, arranging, and producing everything himself and by playing all the instruments—guitars, keys, sax, and percussion. His ingenuity has landed him work with members of seemingly countless bands—Billy Joel, David Letterman, Muddy Waters, Blood, Sweat and Tears, Bob Dylan, Bruce Springsteen, Jackson Browne, Peter Gabriel, Rod Stewart, Sting, Shania Twain, Indigo Girls, Bo Diddley, and Van Morrison, to name a few.

When he performs live, Schrader plays with friends and band mates Sean North on guitar, Dave DeGraw on sax and percussion, and Peter Bartash on drums, with all three lending backing vocals. The band's live shows are exciting, captivating, and energetic, and Schrader will play several acoustic shows with his band in the next few weeks—they'll be at Backstage Studio Productions in Kingston on Saturday, May 13 at 9:30pm; and at the Kingston Holiday Inn on May 6 and June 10. ("They're trying to change the reputation of the place," muses Schrader. "Not so loungey with old ladies in blue eyeshadow.") The band will also appear on WDST (100.1 FM) at 9:30am on Friday, May 12.

Schrader's music isn't "cancer-based," but the topic did wend its way into the music. "In Your Name" was written from his anger at his father. In this slice of catchy, guitar-based rock, Schrader's emotive voice addresses Dad directly: "You never held up your end of the deal / this is all for you, you finally got your song / it's all because of you, please sing along with the pain."

"Not that my father set out to die of cancer and leave a wife and two children behind," says Schrader. "But I was young and he left us. Through the years I've come to grips and made amends. I eventually visited my father's grave and apologized. The cancer affected my writing in so many different ways. There's a rainbow of flavors—sheer anger and sheer elation and all perimeters in-between."

Schrader's role as a cancer survivor still plays out in his life in ever-unfolding ways. One day while doing some research on the American Cancer Society website, he came upon the story of pianist Matthew Zachary, an eight-year survivor of brain cancer. Schrader felt compelled to contact Zachary's organization, Steps for Living (www.stepsforliving.org). Zachary told Schrader he "wanted to put out a benefit CD and told me all the people involved—Lance Armstrong, Deepak Chopra, a keyboard player for Barenaked Ladies, lots of other names. He listened to my stuff and really liked it and chose a song to be on the CD. I was really honored," says Schrader. "Their mindset is that some people will view their cancer as a gift. You go to the American Cancer Society website and they'll tell you this year alone, 1.5 million people will be diagnosed with cancer, and of those this many will die. Those numbers certainly need to be out there, but to me it puts a kind of negative spin on it. But [Steps for Living doesn't] harp on that.

They highlight artists such as myself to go to other people and say 'look what we've done, we've made it through, we chose to live.' Their whole motto is 'Get Busy Living.' You can choose to hide under a rock and die, or you can choose to fight, and they're using music and art as a catharsis and healing opportunity."

Founded in 2004, Steps For Living is based on Zachary's experience and his desire to teach others by giving survivors a creative voice—whether as an emotional outlet or inspirational tool—and a place to network and celebrate with other survivors. A sister site, Art of Survivorship (www.artofsurvivorship.org) helps raise public awareness through cultural arts events, including benefit concerts, gallery exhibits, and poetry readings, which showcase the works of survivors and their loved ones. The CD Schrader is part of, Sounds of Hope, will be part of a toolkit available later this year which also contains artists' bios, resources, and directories to help support patients and their families. Schrader appears on the CD (performing the poignant "Funny Man") with Zachary and two-time Grammy-nominated guitarist Cindy Bullens, concert pianist and oncology surgeon Adam Dachman, Grammy-nominated artist Kevin Hearn, Grammy-nominated composer Suzanne Ciani, and many others. All proceeds will support Steps for Living's ongoing programming, development efforts and collaborative partnerships.

"It's an uplifting thing and a way to educate and empower survivors," says Schrader. "If we can help others by just giving out the CD and saying, 'Here, listen to this, it may make you feel better,' or inspire other people to pick up their instrument again, or their pencil or paint brush, they can learn not to just be a patient, but a survivor. Matthew said, 'It takes more than a cure to be a cancer survivor,' and that really says a lot."

Today, at 40, Schrader has a clean bill of health. He goes in twice a year for bloodwork and chest X-rays. But his life is forever changed and humbled by his brush with death.

"The only way you can really understand what is truly important is to be part of the club that I was a part of when I was 21. And membership only comes with illness. You're only taking one thing with you. The Beatles said it beautifully: 'And in the end, the love you take / is equal to the love you make.' That's all there is and that's all there's ever going to be. It's all about how you treat people and how they treat you."