Never Go Full Minor.
Pick a face. Follow the doors.
0/0 doors opened · ★ 0/0
The MentorQuincy Jones, by way of Queens.➜
SecurityKeeping a perimeter around the band.➜
The SingerFront man. Owns the van.➜
The ManagerNo suit. That’s why he’s the boss.➜
The BassistEvery note, for the fan.➜The Notebooks: every one of them is secretly writing it down →
Sit in on a band meeting → The Archive: it keeps unfolding → The Guestbook → The Lyrics →
The SoundIf Donny Hathaway took over B.A.D.
Don’t Let the Bells End TourDec 2026 · Tokyo → Grandma’s living room
Our own shirts: coming soon. Partner picks open their own store in a new tab.
Side A & B · unreleased
Hidden track: 47 minutes of the band saying “we’re almost finished.”

$55
Vintage-wash black tee, white CR logo, “Never Go Full Retardant” on the front. Modeled by our bassist. Grandma hugged it anyway.
Coming Soon
$55
Sleeveless, red-and-white CR print, maximum arm exposure. Medal not included. Results not typical. Steroids also not included.
Coming Soon
$55
The music-theory edition. For people who know the difference between a major key and a bad decision. Black tee, white print.
Coming Soon

$55
Logo on the front, Coltrane’s circle on the back. For the player who wants to cross from memorizing pieces to actually seeing the keyboard. Wear it to theory class.
Drawing: John Coltrane (via Yusef Lateef). Mockup only.
Coming Soon
$55
The one that started it all: Coltrane’s circle big on the front, our name in red, the motto underneath. One side. No notes.
Drawing: John Coltrane (via Yusef Lateef). Mockup only.
Coming Soon

$55
The classic tour-back tee: seven cities and a Newport we’re manifesting.
Mockup only.
Coming Soon
ON ETSY
Not ours, just one we love. A nod to the famous “We’re almost finished” shirts from the Songs in the Key of Life sessions, made to order by an independent seller on Etsy.
Sold by ShotgunWillies on Etsy. Prices and sizes on their listing.
Buy on Etsy
From $35
Want the drawing straight from the source? The official John Coltrane store sells a Circle Of Fifths tee with the hand-drawn diagram in purple ink.
Sold by store.johncoltrane.com. Price checked Oct 17, 2026 (USD). Photo: store.johncoltrane.com.
Buy itA Special Thanks
All zero of you.
You know who you are. (We don’t.)
Hit MakerHit Maker & Inspiration
Quincy Jones, if he grew up on the streets of Queens.
The hit maker. He saw it first. He knows something.
Doors
Comments (3)
He was in that booth before I bought the restaurant. Came with the lease.
Please stop listing “the video” as a dependent.
You seem like a man people listen to. Please tell the Manager I would like my ladder back.
It needs something. Probably a ladder.
Records on the wall. A table worn smooth. A man who has already heard your demo, and has notes.

That record on the wall still plays.
Quincy had Thriller. The Mentor has a vision and a bar tab. Every hit starts the same way: The Mentor hums it, the band argues, The Mentor is right.
Before a singer. Before a song. The Mentor hired security. He’s seen Get Shorty more times than he’ll admit. He runs the band like a movie he’s producing.
“Crowd control comes before the music.”
His theory, delivered from the corner booth: a band is all about the hair. Songs come and go. Hair is forever.
Home / The Mentor / It’s the Hair
The sound is good. The hair is excellent. But it needs something. The Mentor knows exactly what: the video. The one that breaks them wide open. It just needs to get funded.
Treatment · Confidential · Draft 41
Budget
Status: In development since 1994. Funding: any day now.
“It would be The Break.”
No money changes hands. The Mentor would like that to change.
VIP OnlySecurity / Crowd Control
Keeping a perimeter around the band.
Nobody gets in. Nobody gets out.
Doors
Comments (5)
Do you see him a lot? I still have the helmet. Does he want the helmet?
Can’t talk about the helmet.
I love how he always has candy in his pocket. Gave my son a butterscotch and told him to stay safe out there.
He switched to peppermints. Nobody was told. I have questions.
Can’t talk about it.
He was hall monitor for six years straight. Nobody ever got a pass.
Was he ever in my class? Send me a sample of his handwriting and I’ll know.
One clipboard. One pen. One name on it.
Checking for: you
Red carpets, frat houses, Grandma’s living room. Same rope. Same rules. Nobody touches the Rhodes.
Names on The List only.
In the history of the band, exactly one person has cleared the list on the first try.
He looks like he worked for the mob. He actually did. The Mentor, a real mensch, hired him anyway. He wanted to keep it in the family. Queens taught him that.
“It’s about f^$*ing respect.”
He loves a bold claim. He just can’t talk about any of them.
Claims · as told to the band
Follow-up questions: not taken.
Home / Security / The Family
Retired from the family business. Kept the rolodex. He knows a guy. For everything.
Owns the VanLead Vocals / Lead Guitar
Not just the front man. He owns the gear. And the van.
Silver hair, teal hollow-body, Sunday wail to Saturday growl.
Doors
Comments (7)
He sold me his moped.
★★★★★ Seller review“Certified seller. Would buy a moped from again.”3 people found this helpful
Still runs.
Of course it does. It was mine.
The van is parked eleven inches from my curb. Eleven. I measured.
It’s parked with confidence.
Fourteen inches now. Going the wrong direction. Lovely hair, though.
Great flosser. Please stop bringing chai into your cleaning.
Does this one carry candy in his pocket too? Asking because of the other one.
No. I carry the van keys.
He bought the van before the band had a name. Still has the receipt. It’s in the glovebox.
Vehicle Registration
Inventory, as of tonight. Every item tagged.
Every band argument ends the same way.
Everyone gets a vote. The bassist votes for himself, every time, on every question. Then the van owner breaks the tie. The Manager is the boss. He just doesn’t own the van.
One member, one vote. One van, one owner.
Before he goes on, these terms are non-negotiable.
Home / The Singer / The Gear
Teal hollow-body, slung low, played loud. Tagged: property of the singer. Bought with van money, or the van was bought with guitar money. Nobody remembers. He does.

Home / The Singer / The Rider
He complains nonstop that everyone else in the band is a prima donna, starting with the bassist. He refuses to share a stage with them. He shares it every night anyway, under protest.
“Every one of them is a f^$%ing prima donna.”
He owns the van that brings the stage. He considers that the same thing.
Home / The Singer / The Van
Contents, in order of importance:
Something jingles under the cookies.
Home / The Singer / The Van / The Glovebox
The van keys. A guitar-pick keychain. A tiny Rhodes key that opens nothing. This is the real band constitution.
Go ahead. Take them.
Gold-ishManagement / Muscle
Never wears a suit. That’s why he’s the boss.
Bookings, contracts, and anyone who looks at the singer funny.
Doors
Comments (5)
I remember he threw up on the 4th grade field trip. Bus to the aquarium. That’s my whole memory of him.
It was the science museum, not the aquarium. And it was on the way back. I was in the seat in front.
Negative. The bus took an unauthorized turn. I was the only one who reported it.
Lent you my ladder for “one afternoon.” Hope the gutters went well.
Ladder is on assignment.
Still on assignment?
Best captain we’ve ever had. Does a pre-game briefing. For bowling.
Asked him about 1993 once. Cleared my whole afternoon.
You’re welcome.
3:36 PM. One message. Everything changed.
Started training the day he took the job. Medaled within a week. Event undisclosed.

Negotiating style: flexing, then a story about 1993. The Drummer’s photo? Withheld on The Manager’s legal advice. The van? Not his.
0600. The Manager briefs the band on the tour like it’s a beach landing. Nobody asked for a beach landing. He opens, as always, with 1993.
Operation: Don’t Let the Bells End
“This is not a war. This is a soundcheck. You treat it like a war anyway.”
Home / The Manager / Mission Briefing
Posted on the van door. The van is not his. He posted them anyway.
Rules are what separate us from the opening act.
Grandma’s FaveBass / Backup Vocals
Every note, for the fan.
The youngest member. The low end. Grandma’s favorite. A fan of our fans.
Doors
Comments (5)
The horn stopped working. Is that something he’d know about? You seem close.
I still remember his handwriting. Every letter leaned left, like it was trying to hear something.
Thank you so much for the comment!! You’re the fan.
Found his spelling test in a box. The lowercase g’s! I framed it.
Still have your casserole dish. It’s been six years. Is that a band thing?
Keep the dish. You’re the fan.
Your friend parked across my driveway again. Not you. You’re lovely.
First fan. Biggest fan. Head of the fan club. The only name on Security’s list. Hosts the Christmas Eve finale.

Negotiable on tour. The Kappa Sig show ends at ten for him. Allegedly.
He sings every “response” in the call-and-response. Louder than the lead, honestly.
He’s a fan of our fans. He keeps a scrapbook, just in case.

Page 1: Grandma ♥
Page 2: (saving it for you)
Page 3:
Pages 4–200:
Autographs collected: 1. It says “Love, Grandma.”
He plays bass. He sings backup. In his head he’s Thundercat, and everyone else is his backing band. He steps on the singer’s lines, then apologizes, then does it again in the next chorus.
Tonight’s setlist · feat. Chemical Retardant
Penciled over every song. In pen. Band billing amended to “feat. Chemical Retardant.”
Somewhere in every song the bassline turns into the melody again. He calls it a counter-melody. The singer calls it something else.
The Drummer · Drums / Percussion / Volume
No relation to Valerie.
He walked in and said it before anyone asked: no relation.
Doors
Comments (4)
Is this the same Oliver from Mrs. Patterson’s class? You still owe me a scented marker.
Turkey on rye, no mustard. Every single day. Orders it slower than anyone I’ve ever seen.
Laid back.
Update: still turkey on rye. Today it took four full minutes to say it. A personal best.
Do you know the Manager? Ask him about my ladder.
Others in this world
Every night someone asks. Every night the answer is the same.
No relation to Valerie.
Photo withheld on legal advice (The Manager). Clicking harder won’t help.
Sticks broken: all of them. Every fill played twice, just to be sure it happened. Keeps the gospel in the backbeat.
The kit. Legally.
He keeps dragging the tempo, a little more every night, so every fill gets room to breathe. It’s the reverse of a famous arrangement: Sting wrote the songs and Stewart Copeland pushed the beat. Here the drummer secretly writes the songs, knows exactly how they should feel, and cannot stand how the other two rush the buildup.
Tempo log · kept by the drummer
| Song | Written | Played | Drummer’s note |
|---|---|---|---|
| Can I Get a Witness | 112 | 96 | Better. |
| Corner Booth Blues | 88 | 71 | Fill bar 16: room to breathe. |
| Whose Amp Is It? | 140 | 118 | Singer rushed the build. Again. |
| Don’t Let the Bells End | 126 | 104 | Bassist took the melody. Again. |
| No Relation | 100 | 63 | Perfect. |
Words & music: O. Van Halen (no relation). Nobody reads the credits.
THE BUILDUP IS THE SONG
Home / Band Meeting
Five people. Each one is the star. They agree on nothing, blame each other for everything, and show up together every single night.
Minutes · emergency band meeting
Meeting adjourned. Nothing resolved. See you at soundcheck.
Minutes taken by the drummer, slowly. Disputed by everyone.
Every member kept his own notes on this meeting. None of them match. Read the notebooks →
Inspired by a certain bar crew in Philadelphia. Nobody here owns a bar. The singer owns a van.
Home / Lyrics
Words to the songs, with notes in the margins from everyone who thinks he wrote them.

More coming. Almost finished.
Home / Lyrics / Almost Finished
Lyric sheet · annotated by the band, without permission from each other

Tap a line to read who scribbled on it. Notes read: 0/25
Almost Finished (final) (final final) (almost)
[Intro: spoken sample]
[Verse 1]
[Pre-Chorus]
[Chorus]
[Verse 2]
[Pre-Chorus]
[Chorus]
[Breakdown: half-time]
[Final Chorus]
[Outro: spoken sample]
The crumpled first draft → The bassist’s “corrected” version →
Comments (9)
Finally heard it! On the cover the van is at least two feet from the curb. TWO FEET. I zoomed in.
It’s parked with artistic confidence.
Finally heard it. The moped is not on the cover. Just noting that.
Heard it all the way through. Zoomed in on the cover. That is not my ladder. Where is my ladder.
Played it in the lobby. Security walked by and gave everyone a butterscotch.
Is this the song about the van? Because the van is eighteen inches from my curb today.
Haven’t heard it yet. Still have the moped. Horn still doesn’t work. Is the moped in the song? It should be in the song.
The moped was before the van. Different era.
Does Security sing on this one? He hums when he refills the candy.
Can’t talk about the humming.
Read all the words. No mention of my ladder.
Ladder is classified.
Lovely words. I’d love to see the handwritten copy. For the g’s.
Home / Lyrics / Almost Finished / First Draft
Found in the drummer’s kick drum. Crumpled. Coffee ring. At least four pens.
Working title: Finished Basically Finished Almost Finished
Got a van, got a dream, got a band in the back too honest — S.
Got a mentor who says it’s the hair and the track keep “hair,” lose “track” — M.
Every note for the fans FAN. singular. — the bassist
Hold the tempo up DOWN. — O.V.H.
Never go minor FULL minor. Precision matters. — Mgmt.
[page torn here] can’t talk about it.
Home / Lyrics / Almost Finished / The Bassist’s Version
“Corrected” and slipped into the singer’s binder
Almost Finished (Lead Bass Version)
Got the van BASS, got the gear, got the keys in my hand
Bass player singing every line I write HE writes (he = me)
Says he’s IS the lead and the star of the night
Every note for the fan ♥ ♥ ♥
[Bass solo] [CHORUS] (bass) (extended) (Grandma’s favorite part)
Corrections by the bassist. Approved by Grandma. Melody notes in the margin: ♫ ♫ ♫ (that’s the melody) (it’s the bass)
Home / Guestbook
Signed by the people in our lives: neighbors, teachers, coworkers, the mechanic. They have known us for years. Each of them has one thing about us they cannot stop thinking about. None of it is the music. We love them for it.
Quick question about the title. It’s still in his name. Is that okay?
It’s fine. It was a front man’s moped.
Back again. Did anyone ever find out where he gets the butterscotch?
He helped me move a couch in 2014. Great guy. Which one is he?
Still no ladder.
Ladder is fine. Ladder is serving.
Are these the boys who traded pudding cups behind the gym? So proud of you.
For the record: sixteen inches. I have photos. Beautiful hair.
Reminder: time off for “the tour” still needs to go through the portal.
Unrelated: he ordered the turkey on rye again.
The van’s due for an oil change. That’s all.
Noted. The van thanks you.
Still thinking about those lowercase g’s.
When is the show? I’ll try to make it!
Carol! Almost finished. Keep the date open.
Saw my ladder in the back of the van. It looked happy. Still want it back.
Moped update: still runs. Horn still doesn’t. Still have the helmet.
Wipe your feet.
Love you Grandma!! Every note, for the fan.
Thanks! Your comment is awaiting moderation by Security. He can’t talk about when.
Home / The Archive
Boxes from the van, the corner booth and Grandma’s attic. Nobody in the band knows this exists. Every drawer opens another drawer. Some only open from the inside.
Home / The Archive / How They Met
Ask one member how the band started and you’ll get a story. Ask another, you’ll get a different story. Ask the first one again: also different.
Home / The Archive / How They Met / The Singer’s Version
How we met
I put an ad on the corkboard at Dunkin’: FRONT MAN SEEKS BAND. HAS VAN. Four people called. Every one of them asked about the van first. I hired them anyway. That’s the kind of front man I am.
Fact check: The ad still exists. “HAS VAN” is written much bigger than “FRONT MAN.”
Home / The Archive / How They Met / The Bassist’s Version
How we met
Grandma introduced us. She told everyone I was the lead. They were too polite to argue, so technically I’ve been the lead since day one. Every note since, for the fan. (Grandma.)
Fact check: Nobody remembers Grandma saying “lead.” Grandma remembers saying “bass, I think?”
Home / The Archive / How They Met / The Drummer’s Version
How we met
I’d already written the songs. I just needed people to rush them. I held auditions. Everyone was too fast. I hired all of them. Nobody else would have been that patient.
Fact check: There is no record of auditions. There is a record of a very slow birthday song.
Home / The Archive / How They Met / The Mentor’s Version
How we met
Six years in the corner booth, watching them come in one at a time. I never introduced them. I just made sure that one Tuesday they all sat down at the same table. Then I ordered for everybody. That’s producing.
Fact check: The corner booth seats four. There were five of them and him.
Home / The Archive / How They Met / The Manager’s Version
How we met
Recruitment operation. Day one: identify personnel. Day two: assign a vehicle. Day three: issue the mission. The mission was soundcheck. We are still on day three. I learned this in 1993.
Fact check: The vehicle was already assigned. It belonged to the singer.
Home / The Archive / How They Met / Security’s Version
How we met
Can’t talk about it.
…
Fine. I was already there. I’m always already there.
Fact check: He was standing by the door. He was asked to leave. He did not.
Home / The Archive / How They Met / Grandma’s Version
The real story (dear)
It was my birthday. Nobody invited them. They came anyway. The singer parked the van on my petunias to be closer to the cake. The drummer played the birthday song so slowly I believe I aged. My grandson sang it lead. The man from the corner booth said, “That’s a band.” The big one by the door wouldn’t let anyone leave. The one with the medal organized the dishes by size.
I said, “Fine, but you rehearse here.” They still do. Nobody wipes their feet.
Home / The Archive / The Van’s Logbook
Kept in the glovebox, in the singer’s handwriting, with interruptions in other people’s.
Van Log · property of the singer
| Odometer | Entry |
|---|---|
| 112,004 | Bought the van. Seats nine. Band: me. read → |
| 112,019 | Dunkin’. Chai. Ad on the corkboard. |
| 113,240 | First gig. Grandma’s. Parked on the petunias. read → |
| 118,902 | The Manager installed a clipboard on the dash. Label: MISSION. It’s blank. |
| 121,515 | Bassist asked to drive. Denied. Asked again, “as lead.” Denied louder. |
| 124,000 | The drummer drove. read → |
| 129,317 | Málaga. read → |
| 133,333 | The Mentor filmed the van for the video. Twelve seconds. Van was the most professional member. |
| 133,334 | Somebody keeps adjusting my mirrors. Prima donnas. |
Home / The Archive / The Van’s Logbook / Mile 112,004
Odometer 112,004
Seats nine. Registered to me. Band at the time: me. I sat in every seat to make sure. Back left is the best seat. I’ll be keeping that one.
Home / The Archive / The Van’s Logbook / Mile 113,240
Odometer 113,240
Grandma’s. Parked on the petunias. Load-in through the kitchen. She made us wipe the drum cases. On the way home something slid under the passenger seat. Will check later.
(Never checked.)
Home / The Archive / The Van’s Logbook / Mile 124,000
Odometer 124,000
A four-hour drive. He took eleven. Never above forty. Said the highway “was rushing.” We arrived to an empty lot, which he called “room to breathe.” Odometer read 124,000 exactly. He says that’s not a coincidence. It’s a tempo.
Home / The Archive / The Van’s Logbook / Mile 129,317
Odometer 129,317
Parked perfectly. Got chai. Came back: ticket.
Underneath, different handwriting: “Handled. —S”
Under that, a third: “Who is S?”
Under that, a fourth: “Can’t talk about it.”
Home / The Archive / The Van’s Logbook / Under the Seat
Found under the passenger seat
Asked the Manager about the laminate. He saluted and left the room.
Home / The Archive / The First Gig
The setlist from under the van seat. Coffee ring. At least three handwritings.
Grandma’s living room · her birthday
Encore: if asked. (Asked. By Grandma. To leave. Kindly.)
Home / The Archive / The First Gig / Grandma’s Review
★★☆☆☆
The van was parked on my petunias. The singer’s hair was lovely. The singer was not on time. The drummer played my birthday song so slowly I had another birthday. The man in the corner kept saying “it needs something.” It needed them to wipe their feet.
My grandson was wonderful, and I’m not just saying that because I’m his grandmother. I’m also saying it because he asked me to.
Would go again.
Update: two and a half stars. Final offer. Leftovers are in the fridge.
Home / The Archive / The Lost Demo
One cassette, found inside the drummer’s kick drum. The label has three handwritings: “DEMO,” “MY DEMO,” and “MY DEMO (LEAD).”
Sent to five labels. They all wrote back.

Home / The Archive / The Lost Demo / Side A
Side A · liner notes by the drummer
All songs: O.V.H. Nobody reads the credits.
P.S. Tired of everybody rushing? Type his favorite word. Anywhere on the site.
Home / The Archive / The Lost Demo / Side B
Side B · 46:12
The record light was on the whole time. Nobody pressed stop. Out of respect. Or fear.
Now playing: “So. Nineteen ninety-three…”
Home / The Archive / The Wall of Almost
Framed above the corner booth: every rejection letter. The Mentor says every hit got turned down somewhere first. “These prove we’re on schedule.”
Home / The Archive / The Wall of Almost / Velvet Static Records
Velvet Static Records
Dear Chemical Retardant,
Thank you for the demo. We listened to all of Side A and as much of Side B as was humanly possible. Is the man okay?
Regards,
A&R
The Mentor: “Humanly.” That means they’re human. We can work with human.
Home / The Archive / The Wall of Almost / Ninth Floor Music Group
Ninth Floor Music Group
Dear Chemical Retardant,
We love the hair. We are less certain about everything attached to it. Could you send just the hair?
Regards,
A&R
The Mentor: Told you. It’s the hair.
Home / The Archive / The Wall of Almost / Low Tide Sound
Low Tide Sound
Dear Chemical Retardant,
Bold idea: gospel, London, and what sounds like someone slowing the whole record down from inside. Somehow it works. We’ll pass.
Regards,
A&R
The Mentor: “Somehow it works” goes on the poster.
Home / The Archive / The Wall of Almost / The Corner Store (not a label)
The Corner Store (not a label)
Dear Chemical Retardant,
We are a convenience store. We do not sign bands. Please stop leaving the demo next to the register. The chai isn’t ours either.
Regards,
A&R
The Mentor: Distribution is distribution.
Home / The Archive / The Wall of Almost / A Very Large Label
A Very Large Label
Dear Chemical Retardant,
After careful consideration we are going to pass. Off the record: never go full minor.
P.S. Please ask the woman who has called eleven times about her grandson to stop. He is very talented. We get it.
Regards,
A&R
The Mentor: Grandma is doing promo now. Good. She’s cheaper than radio.
Home / The Notebooks
Every member of the band is secretly writing it all down. One is drafting a memoir for when he’s famous. One is documenting the others’ egos. One calls it a diary and would deny it. Nobody knows the others are doing it. None of the notebooks agree on anything.
Notebooks read: 0/6
One parking ticket. One van. Who parked it?
Also disputed in every notebook: the band meeting, the chai sponsor, and the day everybody fired everybody.
Home / The Notebooks / The Singer
A memoir draft, for when he’s famous
My Story Front Man The Voice Owns the Van Untitled (for now)
Chapter 1: The Van
Every great story starts with a vehicle. Mine is white, seats nine, and is registered to me. The others ride in it. I’d like that on the record, in hardcover.
Chapter 2: The Prima Donnas
I am surrounded by prima donnas. The bassist thinks he’s the lead. The drummer thinks he’s the writer. The Mentor thinks it’s the hair. The Manager thinks he’s the boss. (Cut. He reads everything.)
I am the only one in this band without an ego, and I’m the best at it.
Hair log
Chapter 4: Málaga Málaga ticket
I parked the van perfectly. Somebody moved it while I was getting chai. My guess: the drummer. He walks slowly enough that nobody would notice.
Chapter 5: The Sponsorship Chai sponsor
I was the face of the chai sponsor. I drank the product, every drop of it, before soundcheck. That’s called brand loyalty.
Chapter 7: The Meeting Band meeting
Called a band meeting. I led it. Nothing got resolved because nobody listened to me. So I took the van. They came with me. That’s leadership.
Notes on the others (for the book)
Home / The Notebooks / The Bassist
A journal, autograph practice, and a melody log
The Bassist’s Journal (lead)
Autograph practice
No. That one’s his. Be yourself. (Be like him.)
Times I carried the melody
| Mon | |||| || |
| Tue | |||| |||| | |
| Málaga | |||| |||| |||| |||| (whole set) |
| Times anyone noticed | Grandma (every time) |
Grandma
Grandma called after the show. She said the bass was the best part. She also said she couldn’t hear the singer. I didn’t make her say that. I only asked twice.
Málaga Málaga ticket
The drummer parked the van. I know because it took him four minutes. I was in the back practicing my autograph. Not my fault. Grandma agrees.
Band meeting Band meeting
Voted for myself. Eleven times. It’s called confidence. Grandma says it’s called voting.
Everybody fired everybody Everybody Fires Everybody
Got fired at 4:15. Rehired myself at 4:16. My backing band looked relieved.
My backing band (a.k.a. the band)
Home / The Notebooks / The Drummer
A tempo diary and a songwriting credits ledger
Tempo Diary & Credits Ledger
Mon
Wrote it at 96. Singer rushed it to 104 by the chorus. Bassist took the melody in the bridge. Buildup lasted eight bars. It was written as sixteen.
Credits ledger
| Song | Wrote it | Thinks he wrote it |
|---|---|---|
| Whose Amp Is It? | O. Van Halen (no relation) | The Singer |
| Corner Booth Blues | O.V.H. | The Mentor (“I hummed it once”) |
| Don’t Let the Bells End | O.V.H. | The Bassist |
| No Relation | O.V.H. | Nobody. Perfect. |
Málaga Málaga ticket
I did not park the van. I was the only one walking at a reasonable tempo. It was parked by someone in a hurry, which narrows it down to everyone else.
The chai sponsor Chai sponsor
Caffeine. Whole set up 9 BPM. Ended the partnership quietly. (Put the chai behind the amp.)
Band meeting Band meeting
Moved to slow it down. They thought I meant the meeting. I meant everything.
Everybody fired everybody Everybody Fires Everybody
Nobody fired me. Nobody noticed me. Wrote a song about it. 58 BPM. Best thing I’ve done.
Home / The Notebooks / The Mentor
A producer’s notebook: video money, hair, and what it needs
Producer’s Notes
Session notes
How to fund the video
Hair observations
Málaga Málaga ticket
Beautiful light. Would have been a perfect video location. Then the ticket. Budget is now minus eighty euros. It needs something. Money.
Band meeting Band meeting
Pledges collected: one gum wrapper, one pick. Promising. That’s more than last time.
Between us
Every one of them thinks he’s the star. Good. That’s the energy. Never tell them it’s the hair.
Home / The Notebooks / The Manager
After-action reports, in military format
AFTER-ACTION REPORT CLASSIFICATION: HE CHECKED
Operation Málaga Málaga ticket
Operation Setlist (band meeting) Band meeting
Objective: Setlist. Outcome: Van taken by its owner with all personnel inside. Injuries: none. Setlist: none.
Operation Chai Chai sponsor
Sponsorship was unauthorized. Not run up the chain of command. The chain of command is me.
Operation Everybody Everybody Fires Everybody
Issued five dismissals. All rescinded by 1700. Morale: unchanged. Bad, but steady.
1993 (personal, not for distribution)
Spent 1993 on tour with Sheryl Crow’s keyboardist. A tour of duty. We had load-in times. We had discipline. We had a man who always knew where his keys were.
Thursday
League night. Won. Team captain by unanimous vote. I counted the votes.
Home / The Notebooks / Security
A notebook. Mostly redacted.
Notebook · Security
Tues
Was at ██████ with ██████. Can’t talk about it.
Málaga Málaga ticket
Saw who parked the van. Can’t talk about it. It was ████████.
Know a guy at the parking office. Ticket handled. Don’t ask.
For the record
Chai sponsor Chai sponsor
The chai guy is my guy. You’re welcome.
Band meeting Band meeting
Started the group hug. Morale is part of the perimeter.
Everybody fired everybody Everybody Fires Everybody
Nobody fires Security. Nobody tried.
The band
██████, ██████, ██████, ██████ and ██████. Family.
Respect.
Home / The Sound
The Sound · as described by the band, at length
A sound that never happened, but could have. And well, now it is here.
Band Notes on the Sound (the best of everything)
Vocals
Bass
Drums
Keys
Space
Guitar
Writing
Taken from all of them. Returned to none. With respect.
We don’t do covers,
because we don’t want them doing our songs.

Home / The Tour
A loving homage to The Darkness. Six stops. One sleigh.
Shibuya Karaoke Box No. 7
Capacity: 9, if the manager stands in the hallway
The Night Market Bubble Tea Annex
Opening act: a very confident street dog
Picasso’s Cousin’s Tapas Bar
Gospel choir: whoever’s still at the bar
Kappa Sig, the Irvine House
Frat house show. Gospel choir provided by whoever’s on the roof. Bassist home by curfew. Allegedly.
The Cul-de-sac Behind the Outlets
Bring a folding chair and an extension cord
Grandma’s Living Room
Homecoming finale. Christmas Eve. Wear the shirt. She’ll hug you anyway.
Home / Special Thanks
A Special Thanks
All zero of you.
You know who you are. (We don’t.)
Special thanks also to the bassist, who is a fan of you. Grandma, for refreshing. The Mentor, for believing. Security, for working the rope.
Home / VIP Lounge
Reserved for any famous person who finds this site.
Current VIPs: 0. Grandma pending review.
No forms. No data. Just Security, squinting at you.
Home / Backstage
Security looks at you. Security looks at The List. Security looks back at you.
Find 5 easter eggs to get a pass.
ALL ACCESS
Chemical Retardant
Don’t Let the Bells End Tour · Dec 2026
FAN #0
Valid at: Grandma’s living room. Not valid near the Rhodes.