Eating memories by the fistful
Let me tell you guys a story.
Six years ago, there were two girls, best friends, who went to high school together. One girl worked at the school's radio station. She came across an EP produced by a local band that had been sent to the station and listened to it. She liked it so much that she made her best friend listen to it. The two girls fell in love with the band and started going to see them whenever they could. They e-mailed the band members and started talking to them online, becoming something like friends with them.
Over the next few years, throughout member changes and a little drama, the girls followed the band. Although the girl from the radio station drifted away from them, her friend stayed in contact with them, even when she moved to another state. She always promoted their records in any way she could, and tried to help them get shows in her new town when they toured nearby. Two years passed, and the girl moved back to her hometown. She was excited to get to see the band again, but she only got to see them once before they moved back to their hometown in another state.
Despite her sadness at losing them as a local band, she continued to keep in touch with the band over the next year, rejoicing when an original member rejoined the line-up. Her little brother had become interested in the band, so for his birthday she e-mailed the band, asking them to send her one each of all their records and merch. They never responded, and she was sad, thinking that they were too busy for their old fan.
One day, a few months later, a member of the band e-mailed the girl and asked her for her mailing address. They announced the next day that they were changing their name.
A few days later, a package arrived for the girl. It included all the things the girl had wanted to buy for her brother, along with a shirt for her, stickers, patches, buttons, a duct-tape wallet, a CD of their new recordings, and a hand-drawn card signed by all the members in the band, thanking her for sticking with them through the years.
The Last Great Liar will always be "my band." My first show at The Paradox, my first "fansite" (yes, I have the good grace to be embarassed about that now), my first band I became friends with. I'll miss them.
But Knives In The Attic is looking pretty damned good.
Six years ago, there were two girls, best friends, who went to high school together. One girl worked at the school's radio station. She came across an EP produced by a local band that had been sent to the station and listened to it. She liked it so much that she made her best friend listen to it. The two girls fell in love with the band and started going to see them whenever they could. They e-mailed the band members and started talking to them online, becoming something like friends with them.
Over the next few years, throughout member changes and a little drama, the girls followed the band. Although the girl from the radio station drifted away from them, her friend stayed in contact with them, even when she moved to another state. She always promoted their records in any way she could, and tried to help them get shows in her new town when they toured nearby. Two years passed, and the girl moved back to her hometown. She was excited to get to see the band again, but she only got to see them once before they moved back to their hometown in another state.
Despite her sadness at losing them as a local band, she continued to keep in touch with the band over the next year, rejoicing when an original member rejoined the line-up. Her little brother had become interested in the band, so for his birthday she e-mailed the band, asking them to send her one each of all their records and merch. They never responded, and she was sad, thinking that they were too busy for their old fan.
One day, a few months later, a member of the band e-mailed the girl and asked her for her mailing address. They announced the next day that they were changing their name.
A few days later, a package arrived for the girl. It included all the things the girl had wanted to buy for her brother, along with a shirt for her, stickers, patches, buttons, a duct-tape wallet, a CD of their new recordings, and a hand-drawn card signed by all the members in the band, thanking her for sticking with them through the years.
The Last Great Liar will always be "my band." My first show at The Paradox, my first "fansite" (yes, I have the good grace to be embarassed about that now), my first band I became friends with. I'll miss them.
But Knives In The Attic is looking pretty damned good.