"We're an American sperm bank"

The dominant struggle to "make it" is with some exceptions, the moving factor behind bands. There's got to be some reason why 4 or so guys (with the occasional token girl) would put up with each other's whining and prima donna posturing for more than a minute. Bands are business affiliations, limited liability corporations that exist as long as the band exists, and when the band is over, the partnership is dissolved, in many cases it is dissolved with hydrochloric acid. Sure, some stay friends with ex-band members, but most run like hell. Same as any relationship, as bands are no different than any couple, soon as the sex dries up, it's "nice to know ya, bastard." Yeah you've got those "communal" bands where there's an extended family of ex-band members. But just like the "lifestyle" swingers in Florida, with their revamped for the Millenium "Free Love," eventually, somebody screws somebody that ruins it for everybody. At the heart, bands are about themselves, they're selfish by nature and they eat roadies, girlfriends, managers, fans, drummers and anyone else that might stand in their way while they're on the road to making it. *

Unfortunately for all involved, the idea of "making it," might be an idea whose time has gone. Like a golden ring on a merry-go-round, once it's yanked, the truth is that it's made of brass, and coated in gold paint, it's not even plated in 14K for god's sakes. But it looked so cool, shining in the sun, getting brighter every time you passed it as the horsies went up and down. "Man, I want to grab that ring so bad, but there are ten's of thousands of bands on this carousel that want it just as bad as I do! Man, look how long that guys arms are. If I had him in my band, I could get that ring. Now, I just have to find a way to get rid of my drummer."

It's the American Dream of hookers paved with honey, that drives bands to drive t hemselves thousands of miles, imbibing each others sweaty feet and flicked waxes. You couldn't simply get a group of guys together for an "extended" road trip that lasts over weeks, months and years. That's why guys only go for road/hunting/fishing/camping trips a couple of times of a year, if they did it more than that they would kill each other. The lure of a fish, a bagged caribou, or a night of drinking and ghost stories isn't enough to warrant long travels with "the boys." But, the promise of fame and fortune does go far in excusing your bassists horrible gas problem or your guitarist's fetish for sardines.

So are band members just longhaired businessmen, using their guitar cases like briefcases as they leave the house for a night of work. No, it's much worse than that.

Bands are made up of gang members with instruments, posing as musicians, they tour the countryside agitating the youth and causing trouble. Like a travelling sperm bank, bands come to your city, and invites your daughters to dark rooms where they get in "for free." Once there the band plies them with liquor, makes them sweat and gyrate their hips till the music puts them in a trance, and then the Coup De Gras; it's back to the tour bus/green room/ nearest horizontal place to pump up the volume. That's why bands have to tour, they've screwed everyone in their hometown already and the townspeople are starting to make torches for a midnight run.

The federal government is stepping in, identifying gang members by their clothing, saying a gang is more than one person with the same clothes; now what do you see at a Charlie Daniel's concert? 20,000 white people with confederate flags, waving bottles of Jack Daniel's singing about how the devil went down to Georgia. They dress alike, talk alike and throw signs (known to these gang members as "flipping the bird"). And there are thousands of bands out there encouraging their fans to "wear colors" and meet regularly. In fact, every night, somewhere in the country, some of these new breeds of gangs are gathering playing "their" music, doing "their" dances, and getting "your" daughters pregnant. Hmmmm. Maybe that's what they mean by "making it."

Yes sir, that's one mans opinion and I'm sticking to it. Got a sense of humor? E-mail me DNA@shocking.com let me know.

*Nobody knows that uneasy feeling of "things just a ren't right," more than a drummer. Forever slated to the back of the stage, always last to set up and last to break down and first to have the cops called on him during practice, lugging the most shit around, sweating his dick off while the guys with guitars prance around like "assholes formerly known as."