Failed Careers In Music: Total Recall (2003-2003)

Of all my endeavours in music, I would say that this was the first band I had an inkling of pride to be in. Of course it all fell to shit, but what hasn't, really? Anyway, in the wake of Virginia Is For Lovers breaking up, I felt the need to play music once again. It was at this time I joined two bands, the first of which was called Total Recall. I believe the band was called Alliance first, then Allegiance, until we finally settled on one of the greatest movies of all time as a band name. Eat your heart out, Kuatto.

Anyway, after being in a band that sounded like a shitty Misfits ripoff and an underoath worship band, it was nice to be in a band that played fast melodic-hardcore stylings. We didn't do anything special. We didn't even have a proper release. But we had fun while it lasted, so I deemed it necessary to write about it.

When the band first started, it was Mikey Hawkins, Tyler Trular, Matt Fisher, Tom Fuquay, and myself. This ragtag bunch got a few songs together and eventually went to record a couple songs in Gainseville with Rob McGregor. These two songs, one of which eventually became a Years From Now song, were later added to a few others to fill out a demo. Here is the track listing;

1. The Tourist Agenda

2. Mend

3. A.D.D.

4. The Children's Crusade

5. Shut Your Mouth (And Sympathize)

6. Photocopy

7. Tractor Man

Tractor Man was written by our monstrous and terrifying friend Derrick (who is currently incarcerated for bank robbery and a handful of other criminal acts).

Eventually, Tyler was out of the band, to which we added Viking Lord Justin Lauer to bang on the skins of men he'd sacrificed for sonic pleasure. This is when we recorded the 5 songs not recorded in the first session.

We played some shows. There was a miniature tour that I did not partake in. We even played a benefit show for our friend Mr. Ladwig who had passed (who VIFL played a reunion at as well). This was the same show Matt "had something in the parking lot" for any outted rapists in the crowd.

Some point after this, I quit being in Total Recall because my friends are racists. Derrick took my place as bass player. Not too long after, Matt decided to move to Richmond, VA, which led to Tom becoming the vocalist, which led to Josh Herrin playing guitar. They played two shows (?) after this, one being a show with Scraps and Heart Attacks, Thieves and Assassins, and Crime In Stereo. This was the same show Tom introduced a new song called "God Lives In Virginia" which never got recorded, which is probably for the best.

Currently, Justin is beardless. Tom is a father. Matt is a soon to be father. Mikey still smells like pesto. Josh is in Korea serving in the military. Derrick is in Virginia, where he is serving time for one of the most ridiculous crime sprees I've ever heard of.

I do have recordings of this band, so once I eventually get around to figuring out the technology, I will upload it for your listening pleasure.

Dreams Are Said To Be The Pathway To Thy True Self; I Fight Cheetahs With Fruit Punch

I don't even think this entry needs an introduction.

So, for some reason, my family had relocated to some tiny country in Africa. Because we had lost all of the conveniences of the United States, we were put into a training class in order to learn how to farm. This included a seminar on irrigaiton. Unforunately, this seminar did not last long enough.

Right as we got into the good stuff, a team made up of a male lion and a cheetah came strolling into the camp, knowing full well that we had no way to arm ourselves against any sort of wild animal attack. So, of course, everyone is in a panic.

This is when I realize my dad is nowhere to be found in the seminar. I realize this because he pulls up in a golf cart and begins to take down the lion bare handed. At some point in our trip, it had escaped my mind that he became a big game wrangler. So, this leaves me to deal with the cheetah.

My only response is to throw something at it. The only thing I have in my hand is the Big Gulp of fruit punch I brought with me from the U.S., so I throw it promptly. This hits the cheetah, and (this is the most realistic part of the dream) this does not deter the ravenous predator from futher advancing. The cheetah pounces.

And once he lands on me, he pulls out, from behind his back, a huge ball of yarn. I try to get up, but the cheetah pins me down and hands me the ball of yarn. Apparently, I am not allowed up because I am forced to play a game of yarn-ball with it.

Then I wake up.

Failed Careers In Music: Virginia Is For Lovers (2003 - 2003)

Here is another attempt at music that was a horrible failure (as some would consider). I however, found this band to be a success for a number of reasons. Some people actually did like this music, as well as the fact that it does exist on my iPod. So, here is a brief history of a band that I used to be in (which was much better than the last).

After Dead End Dreams broke up, we tried to do another band, which resulted in one practice and no results. I wanted to play music, and had heard that a few mutual friends of Every Waking Moment need a bass player (Mikey wasn't cutting it, obviously, with his lack of talent and looks, and whatever else he lacks). It consisted of Tom Porter (guitars/vocals for Runner Up, a popular local pop-punk band at the time), Chad Smith with his flaming red mane, and a 15 year old Danny Skelly. I showed up at Tom's house at the time with my combo amp, ready to learn some songs, which I did and we played no more than 11 shows, but more on that later.

The sound of this band would be somewhat considered screamo (as far as the mainstream version of this went), with bands like Underoath, I Have Dreams, Boys Night Out, and Hot Cross as a few influences. Unfortunately, none of us had experience playing this music, so I guess you could say it was good for beginners. Anyway, we decided to record. Our three song EP was called XOXO, and was recorded by local ska-punk band leader Jim Nefferdorf of Brownie Points fame. Here's the tracklist;

1.Blood On The Moon

2.Close My Eyes

3.If I Had A Knife

So we started playing shows, 11 total, and crossed the state of Florida, which was cool since that was a first for most of us. We even played at The Social in Orlando, which was quite odd. We became friends with a band called If I Should Die in Jacksonville, and were close with Every Waking Moment, so they always had shows for us. We played in Lake Wales once, and Haines City (which is the South Daytona to Daytona Beach, essentially). Lake Wales had a creepy, abandoned hotel we went into, which I will never go into again. We met Andy, who was a super good dude, and actually had a great deal of fun in this band.

We eventually wrote a few more songs, which I wish we had recorded (The only title I can remember from any of them was "On Top Of The World, At The Foot Of This Hotel"). We even did a cover of Tatu's "All The Things She Said" (which was awesome). I'm not quite sure how we called it quits, but we did.

Today, Tom and Danny live together in Texas. Danny is an incredible artist, while Tom still writes damn good music. Chad just got a job working for the Gainesville Sun. And we all know where I stand. I miss these guys.

Failed Careers In Music: Dead End Dreams (2002 - 2002)

Of my many musical forays, I will always have a black mark on my record. Sure, we've all had our embarrassing first bands (for those of you who play instruments). But none so great as the abomination that hit Daytona in 2002. Just thank the heavens that this monstrosity stayed within city limits, and lasted less than a handful of months. Welcome to the story of Dead End Dreams.

First of all, there really isn't much to say about a band that's name came up while the drummer was taking a shit. The band started out as three kids banging on newly acquired instruments. I had just gotten my first bass, while Josh had just gotten his first guitar. The first time we ever played together consisted of playing shitty Linkin Park covers in his bedroom, while his creepy brother pulled all of his hair out from some disorder. At some point, Austin gets his first drumset, which he sets up and bangs on for a few weeks before we decide to start putting music together.

So we start getting some things loosely written and realize that we don't have a singer. At this point, we promptly recruit Calvin, a 19 year old Misfits fanatic who was a bit loud, but thought that it would be alright. He also had a car, which the three 15 year olds in the band didn't. So, we write.

With hit songs like "Necrobeastiality" and "Crash and Burn" we decided to try out a set of shitty covers and even shittier originals at some birthday party in Josh's front yard. Terrible. There was also the tiny show we played in my parents backyard. Horrific. After getting a taste of playing to other people, we thought it would be a good idea to see about playing a Daytona Hardcore show. Being newcomers, we had no idea what was going on. Our first show was basically every Daytona band we knew playing the Church. Runner-up, The Autumn Offering, Fortitude, Every Waking Moment, and Dead End Dreams played. And blew.

This was the notorious show where the cover of Minor Threats "Small Man, Big Mouth" was accompanied by Calvin reading the lyrics off a tiny pad of paper in his hand. Thus solidifying our place outside of Daytona Hardcore, and officially banning us from the Cool Club.

There was also the show at the abandoned-movie-theatre-turned-venue called Almost Music, with Of A Divergent Blood, Every Waking Moment, The Autumn Offering, Suffocate Faster, Affront, and A Life Once Lost (what?). This clusterfuck of a makeshift battle of the bands was also the night I lost my virginity, thus putting a nice cap on the end of our streak as Daytona's Second Worst Band.

So, there it is. The most embarrassing period of time in my life. Today, Josh is in Korea serving in the army. Calvin is a tattoo artist somewhere in the tiny state of Connecticut. Austin is a father of a boy named Asa and lives in Orlando. And you all know my story. I will say this; if anyone has tape recordings or video of this colossal auditory STD, then let me know. I'd love to make sure the world never sees it again.

Dreams Are Said To Be The Pathway To Thy True Self; I Am Not Afraid of Ground Beef Monsters

Here is the second dream that rocked my subconcious years ago, though I still remember every detail. Keep this tiny fact in mind; I've never done drugs. And here we go;

In this dream, I had a job on a cruise ship. Unfortunately, it was not the glamourous cruise ship job we all want one day. My job description entailed packing ground beef into 7 designated closets. Don't ask me why. But I did my job as well as I could. Until I finished the 6th closet. I turned around to retrieve the last back of ground beef to be packed, and when I turned back, all of the closets I had previously packed were empty. So, in a fit of rage, I threw down my apron and left.

When I walked up onto the deck of the ship, I noticed a crowd of people staring into the water. I decide to take a look, only to discover that there is a monster made of ground beef attacking the hull of the ship. My initial reaction is "well, there it went." Everyone disperses because they realize that it cannot get onto the deck.

Suddenly, the monster is on the deck. Everyone freaks out. The monster begins walking towards a group of people, the whole time transforming into a more human shape. It is then I realize that the monster has transformed into a naked Cuba Gooding, Jr. Then I wake up, confused. Again.

What?

My Parents; The Model of Being A Kid While Being Responsible

I have the greatest parents in the world. It's as simple as that. And there isn't a person who could argue that, because if you did, you'd be wrong.

Growing up, I was one of the few kids who had parents who were actually together. As I got older, I began to realize that what should have been a normal situation was not the case, and was actually the reverse of most people. My friends whose parents were still together also hated each other, so it was kind of weird to say "my life is normal" to them without feeling like a braggart.

Here is why my parents are the best, though. It is not every day you meet adults who are young at heart. Sure, they didn't have an easy life, but they had enough sense to understand that we are only here once. They knew what they liked and what they wanted, and they always got it because they worked for it. It might not have always been practical, but it made us all happy.

My mom is the mom who is the nicest person. Ever. She busts her ass working in food service just to save up for some wild Disney vacation. She's not a good dancer, but she dances anyway (which I think both my brother and I have acquired that trait). She is super ticklish, but you don't even have to tickle her to torture her (spider hands work just fine). Most importantly, she was always that mom who defined mother. She sacrificed everything to raise us. If she wasn't at a baseball practice, she always made it to the games. Half the time, I thought she worked at my school because she was so involved with PTA. When I moved out the first time, it broke my heart to see how disappointed and scared she was for me. And she was right. But when I had to move back in, she kept a room just in case. She saved my life.

My dad is a bit of a different story. Deep down, I know he cares, but he's quiet about it. My sex talk was him tossing me a box of condoms and saying "you know how to use these" (oh how wrong was he). He taught me how to throw a baseball (even though I still throw sidearm). I knew he always had hard jobs, so I always tried not to bother him as much. For as long as I can remember, he has driven a Chevy Camero. Some of my friends say he looks like a less crazy, better looking Gary Busey (and he kind of does) but he hates it so much that I have blocked that thought from my mind. I would say he reminds me of a less Scientology-y John Travolta (sans cleft chin). But despite the quirks, he always showed me that it was important to treat women right. He always showed my brother and I that my mother was just as important to him as we were. He was the example of a man that every child should have in their life (thanks dad).

I have always felt guilty growing up without some hardship. Yeah, we didn't have alot of money. Sure, we didn't always have the coolest new toys. But we had food. And clothes. And a decent house to live in. And a family that cared about everything you did. And I couldn't have asked for a better childhood.

So thank you, Mom and Dad. I never say that enough.

A Case Of Multiple Identities

Growing up, I lived in a normal neighborhood. We lived on the corner, and there were a number of kids down the road, although I was the only one born in 86. Everyone else was either 2-3 years older or younger than me, so I eventually resorted to bookworming. Between Goosebumps, Animorphs, and fighting with David Valderama, I didn't really have an interesting childhood.

It wasn't until I was almost out of high school that I noticed the anomaly that lived at the end of my road. I'm still not sure what his name is, or if he is even considered sane, but I do know this; he was never the same person twice in one week.

My first memory of this man was his house. It wasn't that he lived in a house that was covered with elven decor or painted with psychedelic vomit. It was a normal brown house in Coventry Forest. Most people would drive right by it and not think twice...if it weren't for the 20 or so vacuum cleaners posted in his driveway.

The man had a collection of cleaners that were continuously on sale. What was worse is that it always seemed that they were different. And it wasn't often that you would see him sitting outside trying to sell them, but every now and again, he'd be out there. In a robe. Or a dress. Or a state troopers uniform. Or a Muslim head dress.

There was also the story of my late night encounter with this gentleman. It had to be 4 in the morning, coming home from Orlando or a friends house (the event doesn't matter). As I go to turn into my neighborhood, I see a man directing traffic towards my road. It wasn't until I was 50 feet from the man that I noticed it was the vacuum salesman. In full trooper garb and caution vest. Alright then.

The next day, I pull up next to a white molester van only to notice that it was the vacuum salesman/traffic trooper. Only this time, he was wearing a sundress, full makeup, and diamond earrings. In a windowless van.

I hadn't seen him for months after that, mostly due to my busy schedule, or my aversion to seeing him, but the next time I did, it seemed that he found religion in Islam. His beard had come in nicely, terroristly, and his head dress was certainly traditional turban.

Since I moved from the neighborhood, I don't see him so much. The last time I did, though, his yard was still dressed with cleaners and a new addition; sewing machines. I mean, all I know is that if I ever really met this man, I'd be afraid to shake his hand, but afraid that if I didn't, he'd hurt me in some horrific, torturous way.

So, godspeed, Mr. Identity Crisis. May all your personalities thrive and be successful.