Let Me Get .. To The Point .. Let’s Roll .. Another pflrrrrrm..

That, of course, being the original radio edit of Tom Petty’s You Don’t Know How It Feels.

Radio, of course, being quite allergic to the word joint, at least initially. You rarely hear that edit now, for whatever reason. Sometime the shock wears off, sometimes the fear behind the edit fades in the face of a more accepting public. Who knows.

I started this bloggy thingie as a chance at capturing a relatively unique narrative. When I started, I was knee-deep into a rather successful band, eyebrows-deep into parenthood, and at the doorstep of our Habitat For Humanity homeowner adventure. Three stories that are rarely told, let alone by the same person at the same time.

Well, as time usually dictates, the grand scheme of the narrative has changed some, mainly because my place isn’t the same as it was at the beginning. They call this a journey, I think.

My place now is still defined first and foremost by the family. The house is built and moved into, but it remains an adventure perspective that is somewhat unique.

The moving target here is my Rockstar element. There’s a lot of sociology involved in being a person in a band. Good bands are usually full of good musicians, and good musicians tend to be completely insane. There’s no reason to think that a band can succeed with regular humans in it – you have to be completely nuts to have the audacity to present music to people, let alone to have the gift/curse that allows you to generate it in the first place.

The circumstances of how I got to the place I sit will reveal themselves as I go (and, in some cases, are pretty evident already). But let me define the current so that the future and past have a landmark to look at.

Bands are relationships, just like any other gathering of people for a common purpose. It can be a brotherhood, a team, a peer group. In this case, I think it had become, for me, a bad boyfriend. You’ll see what I mean shortly.

Part of that is my fault, in that my role as a musician has always been as the cart that finds a horse. I’m traditionally an added element – an enhancement to an existing situation, usually as keyboardist or guitarist. I’m never the primary element either on stage or behind the scenes – I’m always in someone’s band, and not the other way around.

The problem with this role is that, as the cart, I am very much at the mercy of the horse.

I have a good friend who tends to date this way – she constantly tries to find a man to associate herself with, as she needs the man in her life to define who she is in life. For, what good is a cart without a horse?

She has recently come around to the value of herself and how she feels she needs to define her own existence, in essence becoming the horse, and eventually maybe finding another horse to run in tandem with. I think she’s in the healthiest place she’s been in years because of this attitude.

I find myself in the exact same situation as a musician – as a disgruntled cart, I find myself having to somehow become the horse. It is more often than not the girl who finds herself in this position in a relationship, thus the boyfriend reference. YMMV.

I’ve never been a songwriter, or a primary singer. I have a remarkably horrible memory for lyrics. I can pile on excuses to stay in the cart aisle, but I’ve decided that, one way or another, it’s time to lead.

My charge is twofold. First, I’m hoping to get motivated enough to write, record, and perform alone, with the hope that the resultant pflrrrrrm will eventually resolve itself into something people like.

Secondly, I have a dream. When I was weighing the options of staying or leaving the band I created an ideal of what I want to do in a band setting, mainly as a contrast to the current situation. But, as I got deeper into the process, I realized that the only way I could really be happy in a local band situation at this point would be to create the ideal.

I realized that, as I reach this level of adulthood, parenthood, responsible human-hood, and all that crap, my band needs to uphold the promise. RSW and the girls allow me to dedicate X amount of hours, energy, income, time, sanity, and me-ness to being a musician, and my end of the bargain is to assure them that the sacrifice they make for me on those fronts is worthwhile. My Band TM needs to be just as worthwhile on Tuesday as it is in front of people on Friday. Perhaps more so. The value needs to be in the everyday work, not just in the presentation.

I need to perform at my strengths. I want to hear the vocal arrangements I’ve been influenced by for years. I need singers. I need experienced players. I don’t have time to babysit or ramp someone up. I need a team. I need a versatile, talented team that can play anything.

So. Here I am. I know what I want to do. Bear with me as I figure out how.

Oh. And tell my ‘ex’ to please leave me alone for a while.