Song For the Dumped

Up until yesterday I was in a band.

I woke up, had coffee and went to practice thinking it would be a time to play, forget about life's troubles and generally enjoy myself.  Well that was totally the wrong mindset to have before walking into a "band meeting".  And this meeting felt like the many of the final conversations that I and some of you occasionally have when you are breaking up with someone.
All of the questions were seemingly honed in my direction and related to ways that I played and things that I've said and how it all was symptomatic of me not "being into it".  What led to this line of thought bred from what I had just finished saying which in short was about the young band (only together for a few months) growing and learning together.  This was perceived in the light that I was not content, happy or otherwise pleased with what was happening in that room twice a week.  As cross-examinations continued, I was reminded of all of the times that I had talked about the band to others, stating how excited I was to be on the cusp of something exciting and cool, and how it was helping me to grow as a musician.  I also blogged about it in early December.

I was asked to join the band after a solo show in September, and I was given a set of guidelines which were all about marrying late 60s raw garage power and mid 60s psychedelia.  It was a cool idea and I got behind it fairly quickly.  The first practices in October had promise and chemistry seemed to be taking place...and for the most part it did quickly.

The questions turned more into statements which were still general, but rooted in my differences in taste with everyone else, citing examples from conversations that went back as far as near the beginning of our relationship.  I've always championed these differences specifically with the band but also generally among my closest friends.  I have a wide taste in everything, including music and people and here it was being seen as a flaw in the context of the band and the sound.  I was too loud, and occasionally too lost and all over the place.  I did admit that there were some places where I was losing focus, but it was more because I was pushing myself to try different and interesting things for songs where I felt I was repeating myself.  I tried to intimate this in the room, but it was met with the sense that it was disrupting everything that was going on.

Early on I was told that I could also write songs for the band if I wanted.  It took a while and a bit of, let's say, coaching before I got one right, but a short while ago I brought one in that clicked and it became a part of the rotation.

And here's where it got slippery.  I was told that I was not being brought in "hired gun" style, merely playing a role or filling a space in a group.  However, I was now being told that what I was doing did not fit it with the sound of the band, which was not my brainchild.  I started to see myself walking out in minutes, the words between that moment and the present tense becoming a matter of formality.  When I asked for patience, I got a curt "no time for hand holding" response.  And then it was "ultimatum" time where a time period of a couple of weeks was proposed and inside of my head I was already starting to put my jacket on.  I paused and the deciding words of "being a three piece" came out for me to hear which really put a spell of relief after a long hour or so...

The tone of everyone changed decisively after that...I remained quiet and shook everyone's hand.  Words of "still being friends" came to me which was a nice and yet jarring thing to come after all of the tension that preceded.    The band members became more people-like right as I was grabbing my gear and walking out.  No more words.

As I reached my yuppie car and loaded my amp, guitar and bag of tricks, I felt a strange familiarity with many breakups in the past.  A prolonged conversation without any other possible resolution, the lukewarm feeling of slow deflation, a 50/50 shot at still being friends (if my dating past holds true anyway), petty "after all I did" feelings that pretty much died in a minute and then a quiet ride home.

So I'm back to me again, and I leave the experience with a feeling that I did learn a thing or two about myself.  I know that I enjoyed making noise with others, I know that my writer's block is over, I know that leaving was the right thing for so many reasons that were only accelerated by yesterday's moment.  Whether it's a dictatorship or a democracy, a band is supposed to be a group of friends who love to play music together.  For what it was worth, I did...and I will again.