On my time

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On My Time

The best and worst two days of my life took place at Bogarts with my band

Radioactive Weasel last month. We had practiced daily for near three

years, and our group decided to pull together again and enter The Battle

of the Bands. This was the first time we sparingly paid fifty dollars to

perform anywhere. All the other competitions we had entered were mail in

tapes and then wait for a response. We got out of bed at five in the

morning, then raced to our drummers house. Loaded on uppers, practiced

four and a half hours to perfect our original songs, we were to play that

night.

Pumped and ready to get started we packed the van with our drums and

guitars then started our journey to Clifton for our show. As usual, we

got there way to early, so we did what any fun seeking under aged

musicians would do. We searched the allies and found a half passed out

drunk and took him to the local bar, then got a few beers each before the

show. We then returned to draw numbers for the order of the bands.

I eagerly pushed my way to the front of all the other bands, being the

obnoxious prick I am, and drew the first card. Unfortunately I drew the

second band on stage out of nine. The best position to be in is about

fourth or fifth band because that is when the crowd starts getting into

the music. Pissed off I haphazardly wondered back to my group to inform

them of my greatest mistake.

We loaded the equipment into the worlds slowest elevator, and stumbled our

way to the backstage lounge. After I had read graffiti covered walls

until my heart was content I noticed much writing by some of my favorite

groups like Nine Inch Nails, Marilyn Mansion, Korn, and The Dead Milkmen.

Inspired by them I also signed the wall with some chosen words. The time

had rolled around for the first band to hit the stage. Excited, we rushed

our way into the mosh pit, (in my mind the only place to be). Screams

turned into whispers as Pieces entered the stage in a cowardly manor.

After they vaigly introduced their band, in a well-maintained surprano

voice we listened to about a song and a half. Our group returned to the

lounge to put on our stage clothes. I screamed in front of the other seven

bands as I dropped my pants and underwear and slipped on my vinyl pants

and a black T-shirt. Not noticing the rest of my band had found a dressing

room. Unconcerned I grabbed my bass and a back up, and headed for the

stage. I wondered onto the main stage for the night, and danced my way

to the front.

After jump starting my ego I started to dance a jig with our singer Rob.

Stage crew finished setting up our amps, and we broke into our intro. we

made up on our way to the show. With four clicks from the drummer I felt

the energy flow through my body while we started with our cover song from

Kracker called Low. With my subconscious mind going wild, I played

flawless without even thinking about it. This made it easy to go crazy

and have a good time. Its a proven fact that if the band show

enthusiasm, and talent the crowd will loosen up and join. I think that is

the reason I love performing so much.

Sliding into song two Spectrum, a song the guitar player and I

originated came off the same way. After moving more than I ever moved on

stage before, I noticed a

blurred object flying right at me. Hitting my hand, I recognized the

object to be a bra. Then with a gentle laugh, and a sigh knowing it was

not another one of those horrid, full, open, beer bottles. I ran to the

front of the stage, with rage in my eyes, and smoothly pulled off my

first solo of the night. Satisfied, I paced back to the center of the

stage, and continued my rhythm with a slow motion filled dance.

Song three was starting as our two guitarist finished Spectrum. With

heavy bass beats and whaling drums, the crowd started to move viciously

about the floor. Without any care in the world I began to jump up and

down with the beat of the song. Starting to sweat, with great pride I

began to play even harder. Inspired by me, the two guitar players also

started to loosen, as they enjoyed the heavy flow of riffs in This Side

Down, previously written by our rhythm player Mike. Moving more than

ever we started the best song written in our three year history On My

Time.

Pushing our selves to the limits we still played with compassion and pure

energy. Wearing down, near exhausted, sweat covered, and dizzy I went

into my final solo. With the sting of sweat in my eyes, and blood running

from my finger tips from frayed strings I still pulled off the solo in

which had given me hell for such a long time. With no doubt in my mind we

would make the next level, I queued the band to do the extended version.

We tried to get every last bit of enthusiasm out of the crown we could.

Rob thanked the 50 people for coming to the show, as we grabbed our gear

and headed for the van.

Grouped back up with our shirts off we returned to the pit. Clashing

cymbals and untuned guitar screeches filled the air the rest of the night.

Scratched records could have played clearer than the following bands.

4

Upset that it was us chosen to play the same night as a group of

uneducated, punk ass losers. We returned to finish putting the final

pieces of the drum set in the van. Acting in our best behavior, and as

friendly as possible we congratulated a few chosen bands with the same

taste of music..

After getting in the van we returned to our natural state as we left the

parking lot waving good bye with single digits while our friends mooned

the feeble opponents. While we swerved all over the road, we screamed the

lyrics to every song on the radio and talked about the show. Some nicely

chosen colored lights, flashed from behind, which startled us. I pulled

over to see no other than our best friends, the Cincinnati Police. He

pranced his way to our smoke filled van, and signaled me to roll down the

window, With a grim smile I eased the window down about three quarters of

the way. By this time, I had handed him my drivers license and the

vehicle registration as he asked for it. He then asked where we were

heading, and if we knew why we were stopped. After I had explained we had

just finished a show, and were on our way home, I then asked if it was

because of swerving.

Having known I had been swerving all over the road. He remarked yes, as I

told him the van was out of alignment, and I was just getting the feel of

driving it. He told us to be careful as he walked back to his cruiser.

With a slight voice, I told myself of just how perfect I really am. While

the stereo blared, we continued to bellow the lyrics, to the songs on the

radio again. As we pulled into our drummers house at three in the

morning, we carried out tradition and drank all night. The loud ringing,

of the phone I had passed out on, woke me. Delighted when the person on

the other end told me they were the owner of Bogarts. After I realized

whom I was talking to, I was happy to hear him say we could come

5

back and play anytime. He quoted, Radioactive Weasel scored extremely

high for an unsigned band. I smiled to myself as he then said, However,

you have been disqualified for an unknown reason. My heart stopped as

time flew by. A nameless face had just crushed what had seemed so great

to me. The thing that confuses me is why to this very day, do they still

refuse to tell us any reason for our disqualification.

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