i found a recording of my high school band the other day. i forget what we called ourselves, but we drank an inordinate amount of dr. pepper and were really loud. i sang, and played the snare (what else do you do with a person who has no musical talent?). the tape, recorded in paul barton's shed, consists of a cover of motley crue's "home sweet home," played over and over again and some rocking christian hymn (the other boys in the band were members of the apostolic assembly church, i think).
it's a wonder we didn't get anywhere. i mean, i sounded like a wounded dog yelping and couldn't sing with the music. it's hilarious to listen to the guys try to catch up with me when my singing speeds up, or slows down. despite me, we thought we were good enough for ed mcmahon and his star search crew. then, one night, i let willie and polly listen to it. i've never seen two siblings laugh so hard.
ahhh, yes... the evening my rock-star aspirations were grounded into the burney dirt.