I was doing a little dance on the subway platform. I was standing behind a dirty, purple column, so that no one could see me. I was waiting for the uptown F train. I was listening to the iPod¹. I was somehow avoiding death. And it occurred to me that I should start a new band.
This new band will be huge. In number of musicians, I mean. Bigger than Polyphonic Spree, Mercury Rev, and Broken Social Scene combined. And what's that other ridiculously huge band? I forget, but they're probably from Canada. Everyone in Canada seems to get along so very well. In any case, we're going to be bigger than them, too.
There will be lots of dancing, lots of hollering, lots of laughing. There will be handclaps and horns and gorgeous guitars.
This band will have an age requirement. Kind of like Menudo, but different. To be a member, you have to be at least 30 years old. I can't even be in the band until September. Being in a serious relationship (or, at the very least,
wishing that you were in a serious relationship) is also mandatory. Extra points if you're married. Even more extra points if you have a kid. Having a full-time job that's more important to you than the band: Absolutely mandatory. If you have children, a day job, and a large mortgage on a nice house in the country, you can be the band leader. If you raise chickens on your farm and send mass e-mails to all of your friends and family with pictures of your chickens and the eggs they lay, then — my god, man! — you will be the Jerry Garcia to our nation of dedicated followers. So be it, and amen.
Band-related dreams are not allowed. We must all realize, very clearly, that we will not succeed at anything band-related. Ever. You can't be in our band if you're in other bands. If you're in other bands, chances are you have some sort of band-related dream. Unless, of course, your other bands really suck. Then it's okay. However, if you take night classes or do volunteer work or have therapy a couple of nights a week, that's really great. The less chance we all have for actually getting together for practice, the better. Plus: no one can be very good at their instrument.
Instruments will be, whenever possible, small and light. This rule does not apply to drummers (there will be at least five of you, I imagine), cellists, harpists, grand pianists, tuba players, etc. You guys will have to just figure it out on your own. Please keep in mind that no one is allowed to carry anyone else's instrument. For instance, you will never catch me (one of the many guitarists) carrying the drummer's deadly cymbal stands. This is simply out of the question. It's unnatural. Similarly, the drummer(s) will never be asked to carry my guitar amp. And, above and beyond everything, all musicians must be responsible for their own instruments. Always.
Always. This is very important. There will be no borrowing or sharing of instruments. I say this with extreme disgust for the very thought of it, my face shriveled into a repulsed and enraged scowl. I spit on you.
There will be no tour. Ever. There will be no mention of tour. There will be no thinking of tour. There will be no shows².
This rule about no shows, however, can be broken only if we do not promote the show. There will be no posters, no mass e-mails saying hey hey my band is playing hey come see my band hey we're the best hey rock and roll yeah yeah we're going to rock you hey let's get drunk and do it hey, no mention of the show (which we are probably not going to play) whatsoever. None of that crap. We will not beg our friends to pay eight dollars to see us play for twenty minutes at Arlene's Grocery on a Tuesday at midnight. Our friends will not even know we are in a band, unless they are in the band with us.
We will only play shows on weekend afternoons in well-lit and comfortable concert halls with wonderful sound systems. There will be plenty of places for audience members to sit. No one will stand unless they are moved to dance. Audience members will be allowed to bring their own instruments, too, so that they can join us if they get tired of watching. There might even be beds in case people want to take naps. Each individual band member will be responsible for his or her own transportation to and from the concert venue. Transportation will be convenient and comfortable. There will be no sitting in the back seat of a 1988 Honda Civic coupe with your face pressed against the window and a floor tom on your lap and a cymbal stand in your crotch. There will be none of that. No.
There will be pizza and chocolate chip cookies and lots of yummy, cold drinks.
There will be more to this. I'm still working it out. The point of this band, like the point of this post, is simply that, every now and then — maybe because of a song I heard, maybe because of a memory I had — I get to feeling that making big and beautiful music with a whole bunch of good friends would be a lot of silly fun. And that, on the other hand, there are a lot of parts of being in a band that are no fun at all.
This band, like this post, is just for me. Unless you want to be in the band. Then, it's for you, too.
***
Footnote 1: Jose Reyes. I've named my iPod "Jose Reyes."
Footnote 2: Seriously, I don't even care if we never write a song, just as long as we share some sort of a common vision, and get together every and now and then to throw around some ideas.
And we don't even really need to "get together." We can just send some mass e-mails. Let me know:
stephen.mejias@primedia.com .
