I have a confession to make. I have been a polygamist. Well, not in the true sense of the word for I’ve always found that having one wife was plenty of challenge. I can’t imagine wanting more than one.
But, for the last 30 years I have been in a polygamistic arrangement, one that is fulfilling, nerve racking, emotional, combative, humorous, sad, thrilling and caustic, all at once.
Yes, I have a band. For three decades, we have been performing, and while the significant others have come and gone over the years, I am still in a band. In fact, the band has lasted longer than any marriage I’ve had the pleasure or displeasure of being in.
If you don’t have a band, be glad. The headline of today’s RobZerrvation is from a Jimmy Buffett song. We have always laughed at that line. Don’t get me wrong, however. A band is a blast to have and if you love performing in public, it can take you places you never dreamed – the venues we’ve performed still boggle my mind.
But it will suck your life away. It is as demanding as any marriage you’ll ever be in. In essence, you’re in multiple marriages all at the same time. You have one with the guitar player, one with the uke player, one with the washtub player and another with the harmonica player and you could even be in a real marriage with your female lead singer.
Yes, my band is a little non-traditional. But every band is the same really. People like to say a band is a family, but I think they are all wrong. You don’t choose your family. But you do choose your bandmates and you choose your spouse(s). Hence, it’s much more like a marriage and the bonds of bandimony can be just as strong if not stronger than any vows exchanged in a church.
Case in point. I have had two members of my band with me for all 30 years. Bobby and Mike, or Waterrat and Animal in our pirate lives, have been there since the beginning. Collectively, we have seen it all. We’ve played more bars and events than we can even recall. At one point we were performing three places a night for four days straight in Seattle. We’ve opened for the Kingsmen and the Sons of the Beach (in Cayman). We’ve done Folklife and countless other music festivals. We’ve had some really amazing musicians sit in with us, most recently Tommy James of the Shondels fame and Reuben Morgan whose with Gregg Allman.
And we’re still together. Others have come and gone in short order. Long Gone John Godsey was by far the best harmonica player we ever had. He moved to Alaska to become a bow hunting champion. Big Nick Kinler went on the lam one night and only resurfaced a year or so ago, ending up in Portland. A great guitar player. Another fabulous guitar player, Sir Nigel, is a fantastic artist as well and is in Denver now. Lollypop and Buckwheat have gone their separate ways as well, the former is in Seattle and we still stay in contact, and the latter stabbed me in the back and we haven’t spoke since.
I told you it was like a marriage. Inevitably, there have been disagreements and even a few fights. There are times, sometimes a couple years, where we just don’t speak. Then we forget all about what we were fighting about as soon as we pick up our instrucments again.
In two cases, it was a marriage on multiple levels. Two of my ex-whatevers sang female lead in the band. Sharon was amazing – she could hear a song once and do the harmonies – the voice of an angel. Michelle was a belter. I wasn’t married to Cassie but she can sing the top range that no one ever could.
Part of the challenge of this marriage is that you all want to have input. The creative process of music is by nature a collaborative effort. It works best if someone is in charge, because ultimately, there will be disagreements. And occasionally, everyone wants to go in the wrong direction, one that won’t play well with the audience.
Like an orchestra, you need a conductor. They need to get everyone on the same page. Otherwise there is chaos. Or worse, there’s The Beatles. The Beatles were leaderless. Everyone wanted to be the center of attention. It worked for a while, but it never works long term in a band. Eventually, everyone wants to go their own way.
Just look at Fleetwood Mac, arguably the most incestuous and dysfunctional band around. Everyone was sleeping with one another. This is bad ju ju in a band. Fortunately, we’ve never gotten into playing musical beds in the band. Well, not within the band that is. There was that one time in Sandpoint, Idaho when…
But I digress.
I can’t help but look back and laugh at this wonderful journey that we took on long ago as the Coachmen, carried forth as the Pyrates Band, and now, Knot for Sail. If I hadn’t taken banjo lessons at the Experimental College at the UW or if Dan D. Dodd hadn’t thrown a hissy fit and quit my brother’s band, I wouldn’t be performing today. Singing wasn’t even on my radar all the way through high school. It was just a seemingly random set of circumstances that set this all in motion.
And now, 30 years later, I have a marriage that outlasted all the traditional ones. My bandmates have been by my side for all these years, through all the relationships, the moves, the great performances and the nightmare ones, through power and personal blackouts, groupy interludes and legendary screwups, including my famed inability to play the opening lick to Reuben James 9 out of 10 times, to the point where the band likes to take bets.
I wouldn’t trade any one of these memories. Or any one of my bandmates. To you, my friends, a toast to good times, remembered lyrics and free beer!
Out on the Treasure Coast, feeling a little lyrical this morning…
– Robb