My brother's band had their first show last night, playing five songs at the eighth grade dance. (My father, unable to say anything nice about anyone ever, says, "They were alright for where they are." Where they are, of course, is...at the end of eighth grade. Jerk.) The Behind the Music starts now, with a singer who doesn't want to sing and a steady round of snotty guitar players, breaking up, and drama. My dad and Stacey and I, a seasoned band family, have been trying to tell him that guitar player-related drama is so normal as to be expected, but then I guess these are things that ever rock star has to learn for himself.
Hopefully they'll be able to make a copy of the tape for me, and you better believe there'll be a screening party for the debut of Blood Throne as soon as it shows up on my doorstep.
Anyway, it turns out that he learned one of the most valuable lessons of being a musician last night, which is that as long as you keep playing, the girls will stick around. I'm just glad that there was no booing or ridicule, although their successful first night out has cemented his decision to move out here and start a band as soon as he turns 18.
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