A Fork in the Road, May 2002

I feel I should apologize for my long absence and I suppose some sort of explanation might be in order. To that end, I offer this column. I would like to thank those of you who have been so kind in your compliments for my past ramblings and am truly honored that you were not only listening, but that some of you have found them helpful on your own journeys.

As tough as the music business gets at any level, there is nothing more disheartening than the band break-up. A band is a lot like a marriage, and arguments are just a part of the deal. It’s a natural thing for different people to have different visions, and for a time, those differing visions can co-exist within a certain framework. Ultimately, however, those visions collide and things can get ugly, especially when something so personal as creating music is on the table.

Sometimes these problems can be worked through, and a new framework emerges to encompass the different visions again and all is well. The disagreements may be based on misunderstandings and differing perceptions. Clearing the air can help restore balance, and your group of different visions can go forward again together.

Sometimes, it just ain’t meant to be. You watch helplessly as your musical union fractures into insurpassable chasms of differing opinions that leave you feeling as though you’re standing on opposite sides of the Grand Canyon. Sometimes you can get out your philosophical ropes and rapelling gear and try to meet each other at the river, and sometimes you end up even further apart until the only thing you can do is wave goodbye and move on. You can feel silly and chastise yourself for being destroyed, but there it is.

I’m a musician, but I’m also a bartender at a live music club. It’s a little club, a small intimate venue. I get to see the first baby steps of young bands playing their first gigs, watch some of those bands rise to local prominence, and then watch them fracture and fall apart. That’s what a band does, they make music for a while and then they break up. It’s just the way of things. For the first time in a long time, I’m experiencing that reality first hand.

I suppose I learned a lot from this last musical union, perhaps more than any other in the last ten years. I got to release a record on a label. I traveled all around the country. I learned that-if you have to-you can play a gig in Atlanta and drive home to KC afterwards. I learned to play for the song and not for my own ego. I learned that patience is a virtue. I learned that I didn’t need alcohol anymore to play. I learned that Motel 6 is the cheapest guaranteed clean bed on the road. I learned that South By Southwest is a lot of fun, whether it’s commericalized or not. I learned that as much as I love big Marshall amps, small tube amps are better, ‘cause you can turn them up, and you don’t break your back loading them in and out of the van. I learned that there are musicians all over the country who are just like me, and I felt a part of a long tradition as a result.

But most of all, I learned that...even when things are externally going very well, when it’s not any fun anymore, you have to walk away.

Of course, all of that is little help when you’re standing here; I just turned thirty and I’m in my fourth of such cycles-you’d think I’d be used to it by now and that it wouldn’t sting so much, but it does. I’ve somehow become an old-timer at this band thing, though. I know I just have to get back on the horse. Gotta keep on keepin’ on. Ignore the voice of self-doubt and trust the path. Blah, blah.

So I am. I hooked up with another musician I’ve respected for years who’d been on his own self-imposed semi-sabbatical due to post-band-mortem depression. It’s a little sooner than I’d have planned, but then I quit drinking last year, which makes the sulking phase much less satisfying. A gig looms on the horizon, much too soon for comfort, but I know once I’ve got one under my belt I’ll be on my way.

And I know that every musician who has come before me has stood here, and every one who follows will stand here as well. All bands end (except apparently, for the Rolling Stones). It was just time to move on. So to the rest of you who may be standing in this place as well, have a drink on me. And when you’re not quite ready, get back on that horse.

Chris Meck
chrismeck@thezone.org

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