Word

THE ULTIMATE BAND

It has been so long. Is anybody still there?
What, may you ask, is my motivation for writing an entry after so many months of absence?
Well it is this: I have come up with the ultimate band. The band to end all bands. This band can only exist in the imagination, for if it were ever assembled in reality the beauty of the music would rip one thousand holes in a man.

You doubt?

Well here it is, ponder it and weep with longing:

Jack Black (HARPSICHORD)
Janis Joplin (MOST MASSIVE CHURCH ORGAN EVER ASSEMBLED)
Wesley Willis (LEAD VOCALIST)
Mel Torme (BACKGROUND VOCALS and COWBELL)
Shakira (BACKGROUND VOCALS and TAMBOURINE)
William H. Macy (RECORDER)

Why these instruments, why these people? Well, for starters, the instruments are not the kind of instruments you would normally see in a band, but they all have one thing in common: A sort of grating dissonance. And if these instruments are played to their fullest potential, that dissonance will eventually lead to hidden harmonies, new and moving sounds that have never been conceived before.

The key of course is that each instrument is played full-out, with passion and with purpose. This is a band of heart and intensity, not a band of skill and "timing".

Imagine if you will, the first shrill note from William H. Macy's recorder. He plays with a stillness and concentration that rocks you like nightmare. Just one note, long as a river, scratching at your soul. Then, as you are about to lose your sanity, a tambourine chimes in and Shakira begins to hum and yodel. The power and beauty of her voice begin to entrance you, for a moment you are drawn only to her. The recorder fades into the background, it now begins to sound like a distant cry for help, perhaps irritating, but somehow forgivable against the soft rain of the tambourine. Then the jarring sound of a cowbell, impossibly loud--suddenly your head is ringing. In between clanks you hear a rich voice speak-singing in hushed tones, and although you want to laugh at it, it intrigues you, and so lean in and listen. Somehow, Mel Torme seems to be reciting the most beautiful poems ever conceived, but you can't quite make them out amongst the other noise. That noise increases tenfold as Jack Black starts getting down on the harpsichord. He is oblivious to everything, rocking out like a mountain of soul. His harpsichord somehow sounds like an electric guitar and it begins smoking beneath his rampaging fingers. As the smoke begins cloud the stage Wesley Willis kicks in with the vocals. Shouting with a strained intensity you have only seen in professional wrestlers, screaming profanities that you never knew existed. He is instantly a sweaty mess. Shakira's tambourine and Torme's cowbell seem to be competing now. Her yodeling intensifies as she tries to lend her support to Willis' now incoherent vocals. Torme still seems to be talking, but you can't tell if it's part of the song or if he's talking to his cowbell, which he is shaking violently and at an impossible pace. You look to see what William H. Macy is up to, but suddenly all your senses are rendered hapless. When you regain your vision you see Janis Joplin at the massive organ in state of frenzied. You bravely take your hands off of your ears only to be bombarded with a ten lifetimes of pain. Mercifully, the organ ceases, Joplin is now content to only sway to the music. Suddenly you think you can make out the sound of a crude drum...scanning the stage you find the source: Wesley Willis has wandered over to Jack Black and his harpsichord; The two of them are headbutting each other rapidly and with increasing force. And then, in a flash the song falls into complete shambles and hiccups its way to bumbling conclusion. Torme drops his cowbell on Shakira's foot, she just stops singing. Joplin stops swaying. Willis and Black get tired of headbutting each other and lose their inspiration. The noise has stopped, except for the ringing in your ears which you doubt will ever go away. Wait...is that your ears ringing or is it...YES! It's William H. Macy, as still as ever, on the recorder, still playing the same note! He finally stops playing and grins at you. The other band members are amazed at his breath control and all rush to congratulate him. And in that moment, you see such joy and beauty... it brings you to tears.

Posted by Nathonius at March 31, 2006 01:41 AM