The Star Sets − 2 October, 2005
I call October 2005 "Red October." It was sort of a sequel to Dark Side Summer; in this month, I went from being a local musician, member of two bands, veteran of more than 20 performances, to being nobody in particular.
I had enjoyed making live music. My time with Rhythm Method was a good jazz life; it ended when things fell apart naturally, more or less due to a sort of evolution and growth. My second band, Killarney Star, ended a bit more precipitously, with a mid-afternoon telephone call. By the end of this conversation, it was over.
Now, the breakup wasn't bitter.
However, it still bothers me.
For one thing, Kaley assembled a new band, more or less a group of all stars. See, I'm not the greatest musician in town, nor do I pretend to be. There are plenty of people who, unlike me, do music full time, as their actual job, and studied music in school, instead of quantum physics and molecular orbital theory (in real life I'm a chemist, and now a science teacher -- that's a long story for another day).
So Andy (the drummer) and I were dumped for a new team of all-stars.
Well, I may not be the best musician, but I'll tell you one thing: I show up.
All the talent in the world won't help if you simply decide to disappear for a year.
I guess the point that bothers me the most is that I worked hard on the Starfish album -- I gave it my best. The music meant a lot to me.
And my reward? A few months after this day, Kaley pulled production on the album, took down the recordings on her website, and, basically, wrote my contributions out of history. The website was relaunched, with the new All Star team in place.
They have never performed except for a few times since then. The original Starfish album has vanished; they were planning on rerecording it and releasing it over again, with the new musicians . . . never happened.
So I awoke and found me here on the cold hillside.
When you have worked hard on something, to have it vanish and to have it erased from history can be particularly painful. This period in my life was one of the best. In some ways, it's the real reason I haven't exactly been aggressive in finding a new band to play with -- I was part of something special, and it ended. The bar is set pretty high.
Anyway, if this all hadn't happened -- would I have started releasing solo albums on Jamendo? Almost 14 months later, evolution would be released. I just didn't know what the future held back then.
I had enjoyed making live music. My time with Rhythm Method was a good jazz life; it ended when things fell apart naturally, more or less due to a sort of evolution and growth. My second band, Killarney Star, ended a bit more precipitously, with a mid-afternoon telephone call. By the end of this conversation, it was over.
Now, the breakup wasn't bitter.
However, it still bothers me.
For one thing, Kaley assembled a new band, more or less a group of all stars. See, I'm not the greatest musician in town, nor do I pretend to be. There are plenty of people who, unlike me, do music full time, as their actual job, and studied music in school, instead of quantum physics and molecular orbital theory (in real life I'm a chemist, and now a science teacher -- that's a long story for another day).
So Andy (the drummer) and I were dumped for a new team of all-stars.
Well, I may not be the best musician, but I'll tell you one thing: I show up.
All the talent in the world won't help if you simply decide to disappear for a year.
I guess the point that bothers me the most is that I worked hard on the Starfish album -- I gave it my best. The music meant a lot to me.
And my reward? A few months after this day, Kaley pulled production on the album, took down the recordings on her website, and, basically, wrote my contributions out of history. The website was relaunched, with the new All Star team in place.
They have never performed except for a few times since then. The original Starfish album has vanished; they were planning on rerecording it and releasing it over again, with the new musicians . . . never happened.
So I awoke and found me here on the cold hillside.
When you have worked hard on something, to have it vanish and to have it erased from history can be particularly painful. This period in my life was one of the best. In some ways, it's the real reason I haven't exactly been aggressive in finding a new band to play with -- I was part of something special, and it ended. The bar is set pretty high.
Anyway, if this all hadn't happened -- would I have started releasing solo albums on Jamendo? Almost 14 months later, evolution would be released. I just didn't know what the future held back then.
