band n. 1. A group of people or animals. 2. A group of musicians who play together. v. To assemble or unite in a group.
Bands are great fun. From the cheap amplifiers in dingy basement recreation room band to the fancy concert hall with penguin outfit and grand piano band, I've always enjoyed the camaraderie and spirit of making music with my friends. That is why I have remained a musician, and haven't turned into a stockbroker or a management consultant like many of my friends. This spirit has carried over to my musical life in Taiwan as well. But when I first arrived, I noticed right away that there were so few bands. I thought maybe it was because there weren't enough players, or enough places to play. At that time I can remember only two or three really together bands. But then again, there were only two or three places to play. Today there are still only two or three really together bands, but there are plenty of live music venues, and bus loads of young new players. So why aren't bands thriving in Taiwan like other places in the world? What ever happened to band couture? After nine years of recording, releasing albums, touring, promoting, and lately, being a band leader, I am starting to understand why.
Friday 6:15pm.
A last minute concert. The weekend in Kaoshiung. "Sure. We're available. Fun songs. Chinese pop. R&B. Hip-hop. A dance party? No problem." I hang up with my manager, and immediately start calling the band. The band, an interesting blend of personalities and surprises. Sort of like the Shih-Lin night market.
Friday 6:30pm.
Terry (bass): Can't do it man, sorry. Got a gig with Candy Lipstick at TICC. Why don't you call Bill? I know he's free. I'll fax him the music.
Bill (bassist in absentia): Yeah, Terry just faxed me the charts. No problem. I'll see you at the airport.
Lorenzo (dj): What time? Cool. I'll be there. You better call George on his mobile. I couldn't reach him at home.
George (piano): Kaoshiung? How much? I dunno, I'll see what I can do. Linda and I had a fight yesterday. She kicked me out of the house. All my stuff is locked inside.
Sammy (guitar): Hmm. Where we staying? Oh that's a nice hotel. Who's going? Bill is playing? Oh really. Hmm. I don't know, man. Couldn't you get someone else? I'll have to think about it.
JoJo (drums): Sorry, man. I'm playing with Terry at TICC. Why don't you try Little Johnny? Their band just got fired from The Club.
Little Johnny (drummer in absentia): Oh yeah, I've checked you guys out. Pretty happening. Who's playing? Oh, I see. I don't know, man, Lorenzo has always been kind of weird with me. You know what I'm saying? I'll have to think about it.
Saturday 1:00am.
Bill: Sammy? Yeah, he hates me. Just put us is different rooms. Why? You didn't hear? When we went to Australia together for the Banana Boys tour, we were staying in the same room, and some woman called. I thought it was the operator. I didn't know it was his wife. I told her to call next door, and she caught him in bed with some dancer.
Sammy: So Bill is going for sure? Then forget it, I won't go. You'll have to get someone else.
Lorenzo: What? You called Little Johnny? That guy is a snake. He owes me for six gigs already. Then he tells everyone that I'm too expensive and hard to get along with. Forget it, I don't want to be anywhere near that slimeball. Sorry, man. I'll have to pass on the show.
Saturday 10:00am.
Little Johnny: What? He wants me to pay him for those six gigs? Lorenzo was supposed to do me a favor, man. Then he tells everyone I didn't pay him. Screw him. Anyway I'm busy this weekend. Sorry.
George: Damn, I still can't get in the house. Linda's at her mother's house in Hsin-chu, and won't answer any of my calls. I don't know what to do. Try calling Big Bennie instead.
Big Bennie: Gee, sorry man, I'm playing the Candy Lipstick show at TICC with Terry and JoJo. Maybe Fat Pat can do it.
Saturday 10:15am.
Manager: What? No players in all of Taipei? You've got to be kidding. I thought you guys were a band. No, you can't cancel. I've already confirmed the gig [large public university]. You have to be there. They're expecting you to perform. So what's the problem? I see. I see. Okay, I'll think of something. Don't worry, I'll take care of everything. See you at the airport.
Saturday 2:30pm.
I'm sitting at the coffee bar adding sugar to my third cup of coffee when my manager finally arrives. "So what happened? Where is everyone?" I ask.
Manager: Relax. Don't worry. I've got everything under control.
Saturday 5:00pm.
We pull up to the venue, a large university near the ocean. There are literally thousands of excited students milling about waiting for the show. A huge stage is erected outside with laser lights and a wall of video monitors. I start to feel queasy.
Saturday 6:30pm.
The show will start in thirty minutes, and the band still hasn't shown up. I am not very relaxed. Everything is not in control. Finally, I break down and plead, "Where's the BAND????"
"I told you to relax. Tonight you'll be performing with Taiwan's all-time favorite and most reliable back-up band.
"Where are they" I am desperate, whimpering. My manager smiles, reaches into his pocket, and pulls out a cassette tape.
"Here. Meet MR. KARAOKE."
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