It was inevitable, I guess. Sooner or later, it was my destiny that I should be lured back by the siren’s sweet and funky song. It was only ever really a question of when. So it is that after twenty years I have taken the bold leap back into music and joined a band. And not just any band, either. More a super group. By which I mean, of course, that we may wear capes when appearing on stage. So behold the melodic wonderment of my new band, as it will shortly establish itself as a veritable ear-worm factory. Ladies and gentlemen; I give you Blueberry Crumble Muffin.
It was inevitable, I guess. Sooner or later, it was my destiny that I should be lured back by the siren’s sweet and funky song. It was only ever really a question of when. So it is that after twenty years I have taken the bold leap back into music and joined a band. And not just any band, either. More a super group. By which I mean, of course, that we may wear capes when appearing on stage. So behold the melodic wonderment of my new band, as it will shortly establish itself as a veritable ear-worm factory. Ladies and gentlemen; I give you Blueberry Crumble Muffin.
If you’re thinking that Blueberry Crumble Muffin is either a vane indulgence or a mid life crisis (or both) you couldn’t be more wrong. The whole exercise is one, gigantic artist statement. Namely a statement that says: prepare to have your minds blown. BCM isn’t one of those uber lame groups that is in fact just one ego maniacal guy and hired hands drafted in to make the video clips seem less sad (yes, I’m looking at you, Simply Red). We’re not like that at all. We’re more like a UN sponsored power-sharing arrangement. That’s because the co- founder and co-lead vocalist of Blueberry Crumble Muffin is my ten-year-old niece, Matilda.
Matilda and I aside, the band is pretty much the standard ensemble of bass, keyboards, guitar and unicorn. We feel very strongly that BCM ought to have a unicorn on drums despite the fact that such creatures are not only mythical but as quadrupeds, lack the opposable thumbs necessary to hold a drumstick. Despite the obstacles, it’s a scientific fact that unicorns are as funky as all get out and it would be an act of supreme foolishness not to have one holding down the rhythm section. We’ll probably have a puppy on bass, too. Not for any particular reason. We just both really like puppies.
But bands aren’t much if they don’t produce music. In fact, the first band I was ever in featured my brother and our neighbour Ashley Nissen and it suffered for the fact that we never produced any music. Not a single note. This, I suspect, severely impaired our ability to grow our fan base, which at that time was limited to the dog and a handful of chickens. I blame this somewhat spectacular oversight partly on the fact that I was nine years old and the others younger still, and that we had no instruments. This is a mistake that Matilda and I are determined to avoid.
But before we get to cranking out the hits, we need to decide on our musical direction and the best way to do that is to discuss our chief musical influences. Mine are Radiohead, Igor Stravinsky and The Randy Van Horne Singers (preferably the early stuff – I went off them when they got too commercial). Matilda’s are her parents. But even before the band was formed, we started writing music together. A while back, Matilda stayed at our house during which we developed the chorus for a little tune we call ‘Eat Your Bagel’. The title pretty much says it all.
There are distinct advantages in being in a band that’s largely imaginary. One of the greatest difficulties in being in a group is coordinating rehearsal. Trying to set a time when everyone can turn up is one of the major challenges facing any musician. It becomes a pseudo litmus test for your level of commitment. If Darren the drummer says ‘no’ to three proposed rehearsal times, his heart’s not really in it and it’s probably best for everyone if you get someone else or, better still, replace him with a drum machine. It’s not a problem we have.
We also get to avoid loading and unloading the gear from the car. Packing up your gear and hauling it to either rehearsal or a performance is a sorely overlooked part of being a musician. The greatest skill you can possess as a gigging musician is not a major seventh barre chord or the ability to play a million miles an hour. It’s figuring out how to fit the kick drum into a boot that’s already chock a block full. It’s well a known fact that Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks would not be half as good if Van hadn’t figured out how to squeeze a floor tom into the glove box of his Toyota Corolla.
It’s probably premature, but I’m already giving a lot of thought to merchandise. T-shirts and tote bags are to be expected. But I see a line of customized Blueberry Crumble Muffin aprons with the band logo and our faces coming out of a rainbow. Lunchboxes too. With our marketing plan in place, all that remains is for us to create the greatest music to ever tickle an eardrum.
Last night, Matilda stayed at our house. I guess you could say it was our first official band meeting. After a couple of renditions of ‘Eat Your Bagle’, we started another song called, ‘Karate Party’. The opening lines are: ‘I’m gonna throw a karate party, with Violet Crumble and a bowl of Smarties’. Although it retains all the much-loved elements of the classic BCM sound, it’s rockier than our earlier effort. I think it’s the unicorn’s influence but Matilda disagrees. Whatever the reason, it’s undoubtedly awesome. Rock on, Blueberry Crumble Muffin. Rock on.