What A Disaster…
So Troutmouth has been able to organize a whopping one practice since our show over two months ago, purely due to disagreeing work schedules. Sure, playing bass by myself is fun, but I’ve been jonesin to get back to playing with a band. I jumped at the chance, then, when another bizarre local band posted a Myspace bulletin asking for bass players to audition. I wasn’t incredibly impressed with their demos, but decided to give them a chance anyway, just to see if there was anything I could work with.
There wasn’t.
The band, appropriately named Train Wreck (I’m guessing because “Four or Five Guys That Don’t Really Understand How Music Works” isn’t a very catchy band name), admittedly has some interesting things going on musically, but after practicing with them twice now, I’ve come to the conclusion that they’re just playing the odds: If you get enough guys to wail away at a bunch of random instruments for long enough, occasionally something resembling a very complex composition will surface, briefly, like the breach of a beautiful, shimmering humpback whale of musical brilliance, only to submerge back into the murky cacophonic depths.
You know, infinite number of monkeys, infinite number of typewriters, blah blah blah…
The first practice was with a lone guitar player, and despite the fact that I let him play for about 5 solid minutes before politely informing him his guitar was woefully out of tune, I decided I would give the entire band a chance. I didn’t make it that far. Today we practiced with the entire band (I think), sans drummer, and the mess that spilled out of their amps defies classification, and not in a good way. I sat and silently hoped that my cell would ring so I could make an excuse to leave. Unfortunately, they have made me their savior, because they have somehow managed to book basically a complete tour and have no bass player. I didn’t have the heart to say “Yeah…this isn’t going to work out.” I left leaving them with the impression that future practices may follow, and am going to have to break some hearts tomorrow when they call me to play.
Lesson learned, I guess. I kinda felt dirty cheating on my band like that, anyway. It was a filthy, filthy, regrettable, adulterous musical one-night stand, and it’s not something I can undo.
On the other hand, they seem like cool enough guys, although their vocalist doesn’t believe in telephones. I don’t know if this means that he disagrees with the concept of telephones, or if he seriously refuses to admit they exist. Either way, I was terrified.
August 17th, 2006 at 9:07 pm
You cheating son of a bitch. I can’t believe you would do something like this to me. The first time it happened you said you were drunk, and you didn’t love “her”…that it would never happen again. I can’t believe I ever trusted you. You broke my heart, and my faith in you is gone. You motherfucking son of a bitch. It’s over, the house will be unlocked tomorrow while I’m at work, you can come and get your stuff then, if I haven’t thrown it all out in the front yard by then. I’m going to get drunk. You asshole. I hope you’re happy with what you’ve done.
August 17th, 2006 at 10:49 pm
Please don’t throw out the amp
August 18th, 2006 at 4:52 am
I warned you
August 18th, 2006 at 7:11 am
I’m mostly throwing out his clothes, his video games, his pictures, his comic book, remote control, things like that. Things a lover leaves at another lovers house. The amp stays safe.