I am starting a band.
After much reflection, I have decided that I cannot continue to deny the world the gift of seeing me wear tight things as I deliver platinum records unto them. It is as selfish as it is unfair, and I refuse to continue hiding my talents. Aside from my strong personal conviction that there is a gaping hole in the music industry that cannot and will not be filled by another youth chanting about how much money he has while ladies in various states of undress shake and juggle lithe body parts around him, I just want to be a rock star. I have wanted to be a rock star since before I could walk. My New Year resolutions have always included learning to play an instrument. And yet I have never been properly motivated. Until now, that is.
In the interest of full disclosure, I have been made aware by certain spiteful family members that I cannot sing. And when I refused to believe their insidious drivel, my roommate was only too happy to confirm it. So it would appear I am not sufficiently gifted in the singing department. Initially, that presented itself as a bit of a damper in my plan to take over the world with my music. But upon further consideration, I realized that actual singing formed only a small part of what it was to be in a band. So I have decided that I will delegate that trivial responsibility to some other relatively gifted aspirant, while I focus on running what will be the greatest band this side of the Sahara. And I know exactly which aspirant to call upon.
One of my distant cousins, Shirley has always harbored dreams of stardom. I have thus decided to name her ‘lead singer’ of my band, contingent on her understanding that it is my band. Her duties, aside from charming her way into the hearts of our listeners, will include looking hot on the promotional posters and being the curvaceous distraction to the band members. Distant cousin, I said.
While we are still confessing things, I should probably mention that my guitar skills are somewhat lamentable, and my prowess with the drum set extends only as far as making a joyfully distorted noise. So the next step should probably be to look for someone who can hold a guitar the right side up, and someone who knows how the hell you are supposed to hit sixteen drums at the same time. That should not be a problem. My roommate assures me he has essentially mastered two important chords, so I will hold the spot for him. But only for a while. One does not reach greatness by embracing mediocrity. The auditions for drummer and bass guitarist will be held online, of course. If relationships can start, develop and end online, surely it should be possible to weed out some talent? By the end of the month, my band should be ready to grace headlines. And then it’s straight to the charts.
Which brings me to the slippery slope that is choosing a band name. My band will be a democracy, so naturally I am the one who gets to decide on the band name. I will allow the loyal subjects to submit proposals, obviously. We must maintain some illusion of inclusion. I will listen to their silly suggestions and promise to consider them. And then I will inform them later, when I have chosen a name, that their ideas were much appreciated, and that they should look forward to continued involvement in the decision making process.
I have been playing around with a few ideas; like Wale Wazito, but it occurred to me that my foreign consumers might have a problem comprehending that one. Then there was A Really Awesome Band or ARAB, but that was disqualified for obvious reasons. I allowed unproductive ideas like The Band, Rock stars Unleashed and We, The Nameless Ones to float around my mind, before it occurred to me that it did not really matter what name we went by. A band by any other name would sound as great. And then it struck me just how brilliant that one was: A Band By Any Other Name. It is just ridiculous enough to be a band name and philosophical enough to initiate debate. So, hear ye, hear ye, lovers of music. The top of the charts is about to get very crowded.
There is the slight issue of practice space, but I am sure we will have our pick of garages and empty classrooms. As to the question of production, my sister knows a guy who knows someone who is on first name basis with the lady who lives in the building of someone who was present during Sautisol’s latest video shoot, so that record deal is pretty much a done deal.
So, to summarize, I cannot sing to save my life. The only instruments I can play are the ones at our local village church. My lead singer is a relative who may or may not have overstated her ability but has well rounded features. My lead guitarist knows exactly one and a half chords. My bass guitarist and drummer are lurking undiscovered on ‘Twi’er’, that is when they are not joining groups on Facebook with ‘adult content’. And I do not know a single person who understands the production process or knows any production company aside from ‘Ogopa’. Yes, I am definitely starting a band.