Cowboy Confessional

Having written songs and performed solo for way too long, it is odd being in a band. (We’ll call it a band. More like four guys who wanted to jam and needed a good reason to drink week nights). Individually we are all quite good. Collectively we are sloppy with occasional outbursts of brilliance.

Working with TBD (the name for this mob, though the drummer is pushing to rename us the Poontang Clan) came with a few surprises. Interestingly the only western song I’ve ever written was the one onto which the band latched like malnourished remoras. I found this odd as note a single band member was hooked on westerns in real life. The drummer leans toward Dave Alvin and James McMurtry. The lead guitarist knows sleazy Stones and classic Beatles. The bass player covers anything including upholstery, but coughs up Jackson Brown and Phish numbers.

And they all went western. I can’t figure this one out. Perhaps they smoked a little/lotta something before rehearsal or my channeling Johnny Cash swayed them.

The biggest surprise was how I had to let go of my own song. I’m overly found of funky breaks, dramatic pauses, and changing tempos. These work when you are alone on stage, but drive most band members to drink. Sorry, to excessive drink. Wait, they already take booze intravenously. Let’s just say trying to follow me and my flourishes is as aggravating as the rap music I’m listening to at the very moment … coming from a Buick eight blocks away.

I had to release control of my own song. It is like offering up your first born male child to Michael Jackson (too soon?). The lead player wanted to pad the post-chorus turn-around with an extra bar. The bass player wanted double down on a fill chord. Everyone wanted a different ending. There were enough changes that I had trouble following my own tune.

But the changes were good. As a unit, the combo produced something live audiences would enjoy more and that we were less likely to botch on stage. I love the original song most, but I love this bastard step child just the same.

We often read about bands breaking apart due to creative differences. Understandable. All creative people have a vision, and those dropping LSD by the fist full have many visions. All artists want to see their visions fulfilled. There comes a point when individuals need to create a body of work uniquely their own. But before that, there is a long period of collaboration, of give-and-take. It has to happen because four soloists on stage sounds like Hell with hemorrhoids, which sounds like the rap music I’m listening to at the very moment … coming from a Chevy nine blocks away.

I’m unsure where the boundary lay. My band mates have not required anything of me I was unwilling to do (reluctant, yes – unwilling, no). But I’m willing – perhaps even anxious – for them to keep pushing. Their creativity counts.

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