(* Actual events may not have happened.)
Once, in a time not unlike the present, two suburban kids, Tommy and Timmy, crossed paths at the local junior college. Sharing a love for Motorhead, Quaaludes, and “cool chicks,” the two decided to channel their beliefs into pure, ignorant, loud musical bliss. Enlisting Timmy’s cousin to play bass, the trio headed for the garage, desperating hoping to ignite the spark that would then fuel their greasy rock ‘n’ roll fantasy come to life.
Meanwhile, far off in the Land of Record Labels, Mr. Big-head honcho at TVT glanced at his roster and said to himself, “Enough of this industrial crap! Who the hell likes Front 242 anyway? What we need is a real rock ‘n’ roll band, well-versed in Motorhead, drug abuse, and ‘cool chicks.’”
After his word spread through fanzine after fanzine, thousands of garage rock hopefuls flooded the TVT mailbox with demo. Out of the virtual mountain of tapes crowding his desk, Big picked one at random-a cruddy tape with a photocopy of a naked woman on the cover and the word UNBAND scrawled on with Magic Marker. No songs were listed, only a phone number and the command, “PLAY LOUD.” Mr. Big’s eyes opened as big as 7” records as soon as the “music” started. He was amazed at how much the singer sounded like Lemmy. He chuckled at lyrics like, “You sure do feel like a piece of shit.” He tossed his bald head back and exhorted a laugh loud enough to raise the dead when he heard the crashing and careening of the cymbals and the feedback.
“I’ve found my boys.”
Big phoned the number listed on the tape, and Tommy’s mother picked up. “Hello?”
“Yes m’am, may I please speak to the rock stars of the house?” Tommy’s mother fainted on the spot.
The boys were flown out to TVT and inked a 12-album contract. Rock ‘n’ roll dreams really do come true.
// Notes from the Road
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