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Chris Stroffolino – In Memory Of My Rock Band

Chris Stroffolino
In Memory Of My Rock Band

Classic rock is unfashionable! So at the next rehearsal
You have to break out into a jam, even though your guitarist
Has moved to Boston, though he hasn’t exactly quit the band.
Perhaps you should be “groping for a new sound” while waiting
To see if any labels will bite on your classic last. You can’t rest
On laurels in the disktrays and walkmans of many of your friends

In low places. You don’t want to brag or think of your friends
As flatterers or misguided, nor of all the parties as but rehearsal
Rooms for the “big chance” on which you quixotically rest
Your hopes to bypass the local scene confines like your guitarist
Did by giving up his “unrealistic” desires he got sick of waiting
To see fulfilled in opting for a family instead of a band

But the girl he moved to be with is also in a band.
Can it last if he chose her over his bands and friends
And in the process made himself vulnerable, by waiting
While she’s out schmoozing with bands or at her own rehearsals
While he spends night alone trying to forget he’s a guitarist?
Well, who are you to say he’s made the wrong choice? Let it rest

Or “Let It Be” as Paul said in his jealousy toward Yoko. The rest
Of them sided with John, and even played with The Plastic Ono Band,
But you’re afraid you’ll sound like Wings, and, damn, you miss your guitarist!
He was “someone to perform with” as well as one of your best friends.
Without him you feel empty as the post-Tim Replacements at rehearsals
And performances. The drummer and bassist are getting tired of waiting

For you to book another gig, and you’re sick of waiting
To see if you can quit your day jobs. But you can’t rest
So you bring a new batch of songs to teach them at rehearsals
And they like them, but you feel less a member of a band
Than a “singer songwriter” playing songs for friends
Who happen to be a rhythm section, and damn you need a guitarist

(or perhaps a keyboardist, cellist, second vocalist, or steel guitarist)
To make up for your inability to play more than chords while waiting
For the instrumental bridge in which to solo, or some new friends
Who happen to run a cheap analog recording studio to help the rest
Of the musicians realize you can excel through overdubs as a studio band
And thus get on the radio for which your live gigs have been but a rehearsal…

Death or glory! Airwaves or bust! Well, you can’t speak for the rest of the band,
Rehearsals are not waiting rooms, but an excuse to hang out with friends
And shop for a new drinking buddy who just happens to be a mean guitarist.

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