Part 2 – What it’s really like being in a band

Remember that I mentioned in ‘Part 1 - What it’s really like being in a band’ that musicians have poor communication skills? Take this recent SMS excerpt regarding the possibility of an upcoming show (Australia Day, 2014). This sequence has been transcribed verbatim to how it happened. The entire conversation lasted only four and a half minutes, real time. I have removed the bandmate’s name as I am waiting to have a few more of these pearlers up my sleeve before publicly humiliating and shaming him.

Bandmate:     Hi boys. Anyone around/interested in playing a show on new yrs day. Jan 26^th?

Me:                  You mean Aus day?             

Bandmate:     Sorry yes. New yrs day

Me:                  You mean the 1^st? Or the 26^th?

Bandmate:     Australia Day. Jan 26th

Me:                  Do you even proof read these messages before you send them out?

Bandmate:     No

Me:                  Thought as much. I’m in for the 26/1/14

Two minutes later

Bandmate:     Forget it mate, just found out it’s an event I don’t want to do.

Me:                  You are truly one of a kind.

Bandmate:     I know.

It’s a good thing he’s a top bloke and a great guitarist otherwise you’d be chucking bricks at him. Musicians are a mixed bag.

Brendon.

Weekly Rehearsals

Forget your ‘Fleetwood Mac’ scenarios where half of the band is sleeping with the other half, the real reasons why bands break up are usually centered around weekly rehearsals, or there lack of.

Agreeing upon, committing to and remembering to turn up for weekly rehearsals are just a few things that musicians frequently struggle with. Shoelaces are often not far behind on that list.

Some acts rehearse more than they gig, some acts gig more than they rehearse (and it shows) but all will agree that they don’t rehearse as often as they should. Weekly rehearsals are an absolute must. This is the time to deal with the nuances of the songs and tighten up the delivery of the performance. Unfortunately, this rarely happens.

One of my main projects, ‘The Barren Spinsters’, is a two-piece with myself and a gentleman and scholar, Ben. Who I also used to live with. This lead to a somewhat bizarre practice regime. Below is a breakdown of a typical BS (both the band and the obvious acronym is applicable here) rehearsal.

6:15pm          Set up gear, wait for Ben to come home from work.

6:34pm          Wait for Ben some more.

6:47pm          Ben erupts through the door, immediately starts proclaiming that tonight’s rehearsal will be far more productive and deeply profound than any rehearsal that has come before.

6:49pm          Drinks.

6:52pm          17 minute conversation on why John Fogerty is the greatest human being that has ever lived.

7:09pm          Ben breaks another of my wine glasses. Laughter ensues followed by a clean up (sort of, well at least the big bits of glass) and drinks top up. Ben is now drinking out of a jam jar.

7:24pm          The Barren Spinsters rehearsal officially commences with a ‘warm up song’ (usually an over extended version of a song we believe that we play well and effortlessly).

7:49pm          Further discussion on why The Barren Spinsters are the greatest band in the world.

7:53pm          Drinks break.

8:01pm          Start working on new material, creative juices flow.

8:26pm          We both become sidetracked by empty glasses (or jars) and kitsch trinkety items from around the house such as a singing barracuda that has been wall mounted for it’s Bobby McFerrin impersonation.

8:35pm          Drinks break.

8:48pm          Shirts off, dancing in the hallway (not in a gay way, but not in what one would describe as macho way either).

10.12pm        Retire to the portable, inflatable hot tub in the backyard for further self-congratulation on the fruitful and productive evening and overall wisdom of joining the greatest band in the world (all pretenses have been dropped at this stage).

3:12am           Wake up to all of the lights in the house still on and a debilitating craving for water.

Now I’m usually a fairly disciplined sort of a chap, however getting drunk and pretending you’re a rock star for the evening is somewhat satisfying. Having said that, we rehearse more than most bands due to the fact that we get so very little achieved per rehearsal.

In conclusion, when it comes to rehearsals make them fun, practice hard but party harder. Hangovers create great music…FACT. If you don’t get a headache you’re just not trying hard enough to make good music.

Until next time,

Brendon.

Part 1 – What it’s really like being in a band

Associating with musicians, although fraught with danger can be quite fulfilling if you can manage it properly… so I’ve been told. No matter how much of a people person and a diplomat you think you are you will more often than not walk away from an encounter with a muso with oppressed feelings of anger and rage that you previously thought were only held by maximum-security criminals and political journalists.

Before I get to the ‘fulfilling’ part of this lecture, allow me to fill you in on some of the bits that Rolling Stones magazine left out.

Bands are like little families, and as we all know from any Ben Stiller film they are filled with completely unreasonable people who are totally oblivious to the exact level of insanity they each possess. Bands contain a very special breed of person, ‘The creative type’. These people are frequently in touch with their inner beatnik and often stroke their own egos with phrases like ‘as an artist, bla bla something ground-breakingly obvious’.

Musicians are incredibly defiant, completely stubborn, pretentious, and painfully insecure. Think of the worst partner you’ve ever had and multiply it by four (the usual number of people in your standard garage band). If you’re lucky they’ll handle criticism badly. If you’re unlucky you’ll be talking them off the roof of the rehearsal studio at 3am on a weeknight.

All clear and succinct forms of communication you present them will be ignored. Lets take the classic Friday night practice for example. Message reads:

Friday night Jam, 7:30pm sharp, bring food, don’t bring your dog this time…seriously.

It’s pushing 9:45pm as you sit there watching your strings rust when all of a sudden your band mate barrels through your front door with only half a pizza, no gear, and you guessed it…one kelpie cross mutt that is almost as mentally unstable as it’s owner. Half an hour later (after some bullshit rant about digital cameras) your band is fully set up and ready to rock and guess who’s at the door now? It’s your arsehole neighbours complaining about the noise as it’s now after 10pm. You try to keep your cool but you end up taking your misdirected frustration out on your neighbour, who lets face it, frankly doesn’t deserve it.

Long story short, rehearsal has been cut short but at least you got half of a cold pizza out of it. Next stop, Wembley Stadium.

That in mind, even with all of their faults and peculiarities they are some of the most amazingly wonderful people that have and ever will exist. They’ll drive you to the very brink of frustration and anger, then they’ll open their mouth and sing or jump on their preferred instrument and just wail and you’ll suddenly remember why you continue to work with them. It’s because they are awesome at what they do and there will never be another like them… if only they could play it the same way each time, or is that asking too much of them? 

Brendon

How it starts...

Hi, my name is Brendon Houlahan and I’m a ‘Band Slut’.  I’m a Canberra (Australia) based musician who plays in multiple bands and consequently has little to no free time for anything that’s not music, work or sleep related anymore. As it turns out, I’m not alone either.

It starts out as an interest. ‘Wow, look at these guys playing music. Wouldn’t it be fun to do that everyday’. Next it’s ‘Hey, I just bought a guitar everyone. I’ve totally got the E chord down but I’m still struggling with my C Chord’. It then quickly develops into ‘I spent more time practicing music this week than I spent masturbating…weird’.

That’s it. You’re hooked. You’ve just become a shivering music junkie moping around rehearsal studios approaching bands with such phrases as ‘Do you guys need a hand loading out?’ or ‘I can play bass too you know’.

Suddenly, without any warning you’ve become utterly pathetic. Your partner packs your lunch for you everyday, you carry multiple guitar picks in your wallet where the pictures of you’re loved ones should be and you’re now always ‘that guy’ who goes up to the bartender at gigs you play at asking for free drinks because you’re in the band. 

By this stage music has taken all of your money (or what very little you had to start with), consumes every thought that passes through the excuse of a mind you have, leaving you tapping polyrhythms on a shopping trolley in woolworths with a vacent stare down the fresh food isle, attracting glares of disgust from drugies who think you're tripping harder than they are.

Music is such a powerful and wonderful drug.

The irony of me not having any time on my hands whilst I start a new time consuming activity such as blogging about being a time poor musician is hopefully not lost. 

Until next time,

Brendon