“It is now stupid o’clock.”
This was Jake. Or Gina. I don’t say it, generally, and I know that I saw Zina nod in response.
It is impossible to deny that – after a certain amount of evening rock on top of each of our full days at work – our quartet of brains begin to dribble out of our ears, at which point they promptly get blasted into a fine mist by the power of rock emanating from our various amps and speakers, until the air is swimming with rock and thoughts and laughter.
This is usually around the start of hour three, if we have paced ourselves.
I have nothing left in my body once it is over, no brains or thoughts or anything. Last night I tried to send an email to the band after they left, and like a bad dream about garbled numbers on a phone dial I couldn’t get it right. I kept sending it over and over, missing addressees, words, and attachments – a mini episode of Groundhog’s Day on All Marmot’s Eve.
I used to resist rehearsal reaching a point of silliness. You know me – I’m too elitist and serious and scarf-wearing for that. Eventually I began to appreciate it, and the brain drain I feel in its wake. Silly is good. It means we’re limber and willing to try things, like playing a dance cover twice as fast as we’ve ever done it before (and nailing it).
Brainless is good, too. It means we left everything in the room. In the air. I wouldn’t want to feel like I had a sparkling wit to wield after rehearsal. Then I think we would have done it wrong.
Arcati Crisis always experiences a bit of a lull in December and January, but this year it made me feel particularly desperate. We had been playing so regularly in 2011, and the songs were reaching an amazing locked-in state. Then came holidays and flu and travel, and when we met back together on the other side it had been over a month since we last played – out or in – and the songs were feeling a little flabby.
I’m impatient, and I wanted the tightness back immediately, but it doesn’t work that way. With four people making music in a room – our music, anyway – it’s not just about notes.We’re not an orchestra that tunes up and unfurls the same notes every time with precision. We need to loosen before we tighten.
Sometimes we become a little silly in the process.