The Band

Once upon a time, in a land where technology hadn't hit the distortion pedal, there was a band. The band consisted of a vocalist, me, a bass player, guitar player, and drummer. All the elements of a progressive rock phenomenon. After humble beginnings in a Kansas City area basement with a drum machine, our power quad was assembled and began rehearsing. None of us had any real experience playing, except the drummer we drummed up. "Anchovy Joe" had 11 years percussion under his belt. He had two drumming speeds for our brand of rock: fast and faster.
We played our songs loud. And, as I suggested, fast.
I basically did a lot of guttural, raw experimental vocals borrowed from a Swedish band I admired.
Our bass player kicked in his vocals, and eventually, the boys got really good. They kept practicing until their practicers were blistered. But that posed a threat for my budding rock star career. They got better than me. Oh, I was energetic, jumping around like a chimpanzee on crack.
But they needed more vocal substance, and, not finding the range of motion in my vocals, continued on without me as the front man.
But, as a token of good friendship, I was allowed to be the "manager." I fulfilled managerial duties with zeal, but absolute ignorance. We were getting tight. Our sound was coming together. Our stage equipment was envied and borrowed by other bands.
We were blowing the doors off the pre-technology rip off doors in the coffee houses and small club scenes around Kansas City and beyond.
The clincher was when the guys opened for a "signed" band with a record label, and blew the "signed" guys away.
We began seriously shopping labels at that point. But, amid the growing hair and growing concerns, we lost touch with our roots. We grappled with the "secular" vs. Christian label idea. Do we reach our church youth audience, or expand to the die hard market hungry for meaty metal without too much Jesus interference for mainstream airplay?
Oh, the dilemmas of budding talent.
But, the screech got put on those brakes with the new front man/bassist's wife (he owned the road show equipment) put the kaposh on the idea of selling out and travelling under a label. His children were young, and he was needed more at home than on the road. So, the dreams of travelling the country in a rental van vanished.
The stage equipment was sold and put towards studio equipment, where our front man/bassist became a sound engineer in his basement.
Oh, well. Maybe in the next life I'll be the Steven Tyler of Christian Rock.