Jimmy Buffett warned me years ago. I still remember those words from his song Morris’ Nightmare, a song that no one seems to remember except me, though largely for this piece of advice: Don’t ever start a band!
I didn’t listen. I started a band, a band that in most respects, is still together all these years later.
Yes, there have been some changes over the years. If I count the number of musicians in the band – official ones – I count 11. Let’s see: Waterrat, Animal, Big Nick, Buckwheat, Lollypop, Spitfire, Sir Nigel, Sloe Gin, Lickety Split, Kat and myself.
Not many band mates, considering that the band has been together for 32 years now. I know marriages that don’t last that long. They have come and gone for many reasons over the years, many are still very dear friends, others have drifted onto other pursuits or live so far away that it would be hard for them to perform regularly with us, at least right now.
There have been years when the band has been rather small. In fact, I was the only member of Coachmen/Pyrates/Band/Knot for Sail for a time while I was in Floriduh. There have also been times when the band was fairly inactive, largely because I wasn’t enjoying the experience of having a band.
Bands are like family. When you have a great band, you have a close family. You can read each other’s mind. You can switch mid-song and dive right into another – no matter how obscure – and they can go right along with it without missing a step.
There was a time when we didn’t even practice. Well, we did practice, once a year, usually when we were performing. Otherwise, we just didn’t need it.
More recently, there were times when practice was necessary, but it was painful. Horribly painful, largely because others wanted to be the chief and not the proverbial Indian. There’s no room for two or more leaders in a band. Someone has to make the big decisions and often the smaller ones, depending on the available talent.
When it’s right, it’s right. You all contribute to the music. You all instinctively know what is best for the sound. It’s about the music, not the egos.
It’s magic! Simply magic!
It’s also rare. You learn this over the course of three decades. You come to find that what you have, when you have it, is very rare indeed.
It was never fun in Floriduh. It’s no one’s fault. Well, it is. The chemistry was just never right. It was always forced. And while the sound was decent, the process to get there was work. A lot of work. Painful work.
Music should be fun. But it can be darned hard to find those who share the vision. I suppose if I were to count all those who wanted or tried to be in the band, the numbers would be higher. You can’t let just anyone into the family. It can do far more harm than good, no matter how talented they are, or think they are.
I’ve had the good fortune to play with some great musicians. As I’ve said many times, I’m not a great guitar player. I’m a self-taught singer, pressed into service at one point because, well, no one else in the band could sing either.
Such is the dynamics of a band. I guess that’s why they fall apart so much. Egos take center stage at the expense of the music.
I’m fortunate that two of my band mates – Animal and Waterrat – have been with me all these years. Amazing! It’s sad that they both live too far away to be regulars. We have that special bond where we can read each other’s minds. It’s a freaking drug when we’re all together, a high like nothing else on earth.
That blast has been missing for many years. We all know by now how that happened as I followed the divining rod between my legs to the Sunshine State. It sucked the creative life out of me, those years of toil and struggle, fighting an egomaniac who wanted to be the show at all costs. Sure, I faked my way through it all, but it was about as enjoyable as having your pubic hairs pulled out one by one, from the inside.
I’m glad to say the fun is back. After a few stumbles and false starts, we zeroed in on great chemistry again.
We even practice. Yes, more than once a year. Twice a week actually and it’s so much fun! The music flows easily, the voices blend perfectly and everyone brings great ideas to the table, from new solo licks to fresh harmonies.
I don’t think I’ve had this much fun since the early years. It really is a drug. It’s bonus rounds that Kat can sing so beautifully. I didn’t know that at all when I met her. I don’t even think she sang for me until we were six months into this. She adds such a great alto to the band and after she gets over her shyness, I think she will be like Mary to my Peter. Or Paul. Lickety Split is an amazing guitarist and mandolin player. He likes to beat himself up about the smallest nuances in his melodies, but he’s amazing. Don’t tell him though. It may go to his head. He’s a great singer, too. I even gave up A Pirate Looks at 40 after 32 years because, well, he does it better. And then there’s Sloe Gin, who was with me years ago and is back again for some more punishment. She’s great on top (of the melodies, not her band mates. 🙂 and her energy is astounding.
So, the magic is back. And the band continues to bring enjoyment to audiences large and small. We still love the close up, table-to-table hopping we’ve always done. But for the first time in a long time, the big stage doesn’t frighten me.
It’s great to have a family again.
In the Emerald City, humming along, singing a song, side by side by side by side,
– Robb