Where's That Flux Capacitor?

At this exact time last year, I was just about to get ready to go take a final exam in this Physics class that I was not very happy to be a part of. The course was entitled Matters of Life and Transcendence in the catalog and it looked pretty darn good from afar. However, once I set foot into the class, I realized that it was not quite what I was expecting.

Alas, I was sitting quietly at work, trying as best I could to study these principles and definitions and put twelve weeks of class into one more hour of studying, when an email came in. "The tickets are yours," it read boldly, "enjoy the show." I could not believe what I was reading. I had just somehow won two tickets to what seemed to be an already sold out show at the Blue Terrapin that night. Word had gotten out that the Disco Biscuits' performance that night was going to be one that should not be missed by any means. I got in touch with my friend. "Blue Terrapin," I spurted out. "Two tickets....they're yours."

You see, my final was in about an hour. The show would begin in about four hours. There would be no way for me to take my final, drive three and a half hours to the show, and get there to see it all. I remember sighing wistfully as we had hung up the phone. I had only seen the Disco Biscuits twice at that point, both times on the recent two-night run at the Wetlands, so I was an absolute newbie. However, I encountered something particularly odd at the second of the two shows I had seen: I was falling hard for this band.

It had never really happened to me like that before. Sure, I had been to numerous shows of other bands and really enjoyed myself, but this feeling hit me quickly and without warning. I recall simply staring at the stage at the start of the second set with my mouth hanging open in shock. I knew just then I had found what I had been missing, musically, in my life.

My final was in less than an hour and I was tremendously envious of my friend who was going to get to see this supposed special show. A moment of quick rethinking had me back in touch with my friend. "Take me with you," I begged her. I hastily wrote a note to my professor, explaining that I had urgent business to take care of. I requested to take the final the next day. I placed the note in his mailbox and ran out of the building and into my friend's car. I could not believe I was doing this. All for the Disco Biscuits. All for the special show...

This should definitely have been some sort of indication of how my next year would play out. The show was indeed special, and I think it was at that very moment that I made a pact with myself to see this band as often as I possibly could from that point forward. It is hard to believe that it has been an entire year since that time.

One weekend in particular stands out in my mind, and that was the weekend of Camp Bisco; where the Disco Biscuits went above and beyond putting together a tremendous musical event. It was two days of music, magic, and a little bit of mayhem. Bands such as Sector 9, ulu, and Deep Banana Blackout added to the fun, while the Biscuits put out some pretty wonderful sounds. I looked around me at one point during the last set and saw so many of my friends - new friends I had made by going to shows mixed with the old who had led me in this direction - and my heart filled with the most incredible feeling I think I'd ever had. I knew I was where I belonged.

Another moment that has stood out for me was the time in mid-September at the Iron Horse Music Hall in Northampton when my favorite song was just beginning. About four bars into the introduction, I felt a pair of arms around me. Then, another. Suddenly, I am engulfed in a bearhug that would not quit. It was incredible. It was as if this amazing music brought out the best in so many people, and I felt lucky to be part of it. It was not often that I found such comfort in a musical scene.

Amazingly, by breathing in the music and the work of the Disco Biscuits so intensely, I was able to extend my appreciation to other bands that I had lost a bit of interest in. The entire month of October had me revisiting old bands and rekindling the flames that had once burned out. At the end of that month, I attended a Biscuits show at the Recher Theatre in Towson, Maryland. Needless to say, they put on a performance that far surpassed even my highest expectations.

As the days passed, I was reminded more and more of what a deep impact the Disco Biscuits really had on my life. I was appreciating other music more, I had found my musical niche, and I had finally discovered music that had served as the perfect soundtrack to my life. Shortly thereafter it was time to make a decision as to where I would go see music for New Years. Usually, it was no contest: I would either see Phish, or at least stay locally. At the last possible moment (three hours before the show was set to begin), I decided that seeing the Disco Biscuits would be the only correct choice for me.

The Biscuits turned Philadelphia's Theatre For the Living Arts into a mecca. During the final moments of the countdown into the New Year, I experienced a chill that has yet to go away. I recall laughing to myself, wondering why it was ever even a question that I would be seeing this band that night. The whole world could very well have exploded. It would not have mattered.

When the news exploded shortly thereafter that bassist Marc Brownstein would no longer be with the band, the Biscuits world went into a state of upheaval. Personally, I found myself lost and confused; I had no clue as to what would happen next, and it embedded such fear deep inside me that I found it hard to make sense of much. I had finally found the music that I really connected to. I had no idea if I would ever hear those sounds again, and in the capacity that they once were played in. Slowly, news of rebuilding and experimentation replaced the dark fear with a hopeful optimism.

The Biscuits have played five shows since the loss of Brownstein as their bassist, and each has proven to be highly experimental and at times, very successful. At times, the additions of guest bassists, instrument switches by the band, guest singers, and the genius of DJ Mauricio from Chaos Existence on the Roland 550 are enough to drive this fan back into the ecstatic frenzy I had once been in just months ago. Yet, a feeling of emptiness still hangs over me as I simply try to accept that bands make choices and changes that will not always accommodate my musical desires.

It is not the same, but if I had to do this all over again, I would in a heartbeat. I never did get to make up that final last year; seems as if my idea of transcendence that night differed from my professor's slightly. Yet now, as I am getting ready to wrap up my college life in a few short weeks, I know that the fondest memories I will carry with me in my life come out of the year that I have spent with the Disco Biscuits. What happens next, just as what has occurred until now, is not up to me. I will just be there to embrace it as much as I can.