Your thoughts go back to the beginning: how you met, the project’s evolution, decisions made along the way in what has now been a 16 month process – a fact causing you to sometimes shake your head in near disbelief.
The initial goal was and still is to make great music together. As is often the case over time, camaraderie is formed. In addition to learning and performing music, you laugh, share past experiences, socialize outside of “band stuff” and ultimately, form friendships that appear as binding as family.
If you’re lucky, all of this cements the group in a fashion similar to any healthy relationship. There’s understanding, compromise, caring, open communication and most importantly, respect. Some who are close to the group often don’t understand the bond. Short of a clear explanation, you simply state, “It just is.”
But now, you’re at a crossroads. Neither direction is easy. As you survey the thoughts of other members, you realize you’re not alone. There is concern, angst, caring and kindness all present in this heart wrenching, but all-to-common situation.
You have to replace him.
He’s done nothing wrong. Most bands would be thrilled to have his easy-going manner, professional attitude, punctuality, kindness of heart and giving spirit.
Most bands.
But yours is an evolving project. The material is becoming more challenging – the result of a consensus decision. The desire to move in this direction also challenges the skill level of each member. All have every intention and the ability to meet the challenge – except one.
“His heart’s in the right place,” you tell yourself, so you keep working with him. “He’s the one that started the band,” you remember, as you witness endless struggle with some musical passages. You begin to ask yourself, “Has he got the chops?”
Then comes the defining moment.
Rehearsing one four beat measure for over an hour, in a span of three different rehearsals, he continues to deny what everyone else knows: he’s not able to learn material of this caliber. He becomes defensive, challenging the other band members, rather than himself. Adding insult to injury, this was the night he invited a co-worker/friend/musician to observe what would ultimately be his last rehearsal with the the rest of you. Fortunately, because of the quality of the band’s character, and his in particular, only frustration – not anger – sets in.
There is the pending disappointment that comes as the night progresses. By the end of rehearsal, the inevitability of the next step is clear.
For the next couple of days, e-mails go back and forth among the rest of you, expressing sorrow and churn for the upcoming conversation. Then, suddenly, there are none. No more funny e-mails. No more links to cool tunes on YouTube. There’s nothing more to say.
It’s now three days away, then two, then one.
Everyone arrives early. There’s a quiet anxiety permeating the room in anticipation of his arrival. The suggestion is made to sit at the kitchen table. You start off, quietly and calmly, expressing your concerns over the last rehearsal, then move into why you feel the best for all is to move forward with someone else. Again, because of his character, he too is calm and understanding, seeming almost relieved. After you finish, the rest of the members express their concerns, in much the same manner.
Then, it’s over.
After packing his gear, he shakes hands with everyone and exits.
“I can’t believe how well that went. He was so good about it.”
“It’s as if he sensed it was coming – almost like he wanted out.”
Maybe, he did.
Sincerely,
Rants and Observations by Michael Kontras 