So this is rather odd.

I announced last week, eagerly, that I would be recording an album with my band this week. Well, the recording shall go on, but not with me.

I was in San Antonio from Thursday to today, hanging out along the riverwalk, drinking martinis, deciding fearfully whether I really wanted to visit the observation deck atop the Tower of the Americas, all the time looking forward to getting back in town today, bringing my former drummer down from Dallas, practicing late, and getting into the studio tomorrow and Tuesday to wreck some shit.

Friday and yesterday I left a few messages with W--, one of the singer/songwriters, and more importantly, the man with the dough, paying for the studio time. I also left a message with J--, the other singer/songwriter, who I have been playing with for a few months now.

Last night, right before going to bed at the hotel, I got a call from J--. Great, I think, now I can figure out what time to bring down Jeff, the drummer, where we are going to practice, et cetera. J-- sounds hesitant, odd. "Man, I don't know how to say this, but . . . we're going to look for another bassist."

Basically, W-- is ambitious, has plans, is going places, is a star ascendant, and worries about that day, months from now, when his big tour is derailed by the fact that I am a graduate student, with a fellowship, and research, who will want to limit touring to summers, holidays, and long weekends. This, for some reason, does not shock me, or hurt my feelings, but I am rather pissed that W-- hasn't the balls to answer his own phone to tell me this himself, but has J-- relay the information . . . J-- who means no harm, J-- who just wants to get the show on the road, J-- who doesn't know now whether to think of W-- as a charlatan or a go-getter, J-- who doesn't know if he will be next to have his call not answered.

So today I must undo that which has been done: Call Jeff the drummer, call Dave the spare guitarist, write a post to Obner, delete that band as a myspace friend (a small petty comfort, really, to a guy who's not all that upset). But, most of all, when I had been gearing myself up to finally be playing some fucking shows again finally - I must dust off that Craigslist bio, post it up, and resume the interviews / auditions. Oh joy.

So now that band has no bassist, no drummer, but they are free of the fetters of a burdensome graduate student holding them back from their stardom, and I wish them the best, as best I can.

Anybody need a B8551ST?

Is that a bass-player characteristic, ending the phrase with the same word with which it starts, i.e. McCartney's "(the world) in which we live in"?

No problem. Just curious.

As to the run of foul luck -- the band will obviously be broken up within the season (by the end of Spring), but for finding a new band to play with, you'll have a head-start on the other collateral-damage from the impending implosion.

And, what is it with Texans named W?

For serious.

really, it's just for emphasis. really.

Sorry to hear that, Colin.

that is very curious. be glad that it happened early.

i am, i am, i am.

their loss - no more home brew.

Work on your guitar colin. It's time to play solo. Then, when you're least looking for it, bass gigs will drop into your lap. It's wierd but true. Open mics are your friend. Don't waste another thought on J and Silent W. Fuck those hoez.

Thanks, phil. I know it'll all turn out for the better (and I will be a rock star biologist ).

move to philly and be my basist.

move to austin, remember how to spell "bassist," and be my guitarist.

open mic it.

Sorry, dude. Can you engineer something to make their fingers fall off for revenge? Or are you not that sort of biologist?

i'm not mad at anything other than W-- not returning my calls (wuss). Other than that, the idea of hunting down new prospects is a little bit exhausting.

NEVER!!!!!

i just wanna shed a tear....such bullshit.....fuk em

well, endochine, in its original state, is no more. casey (who actually started the band) left about a month ago and is pursuing some more "organic" stuff (it goes in many, many directions at once). i don't know who is playing with him right now, but, he's writing a LOT and recording about every other week. . .

i'll find out what he's doing and letchaknow.

trevor

i told you that there's a car in my neighborhood with an Endochine sticker, right?

I thought so too, but I was corrected, as it was being performed at an open mic, by the guy who was singing it, who I didn't know could hear me whisper to robotboy "what the hell kind of sentence is that?"

The singer said "it's, 'in which we're livin.'"

Sorry about your band Colin. I guess the moral of this story is...

I'm sorry about your band Colin. At least you can take comfort in the strong likelyhood that they won't, in fact, go anywhere. You know, if you were the vindictive type.

Colins still rule.

sho' nuff. there were two writers in the band, so, the remaining three guys are still going after it. tell your neighbors not to rip those stickers just yet!

Oh no! Does that mean the band broke up?

Colin, for what it's worth, the tunes I heard weren't good enough to be planning any kind of world tour. I don't see why they couldn't wait to replace you when they came to crossing that bridge. It is probably further out than your schooling will take you.

Sorry you missed out on Creed like superstardum.

there's always the next band . . .

it'll be great when you launch into biological between-song banter instead of that inane political crap.

"ok guys, you've been a great crowd, but before we get outta here, i want to talk for a minute about mitochrondria- they are MAD important, ya'l!"