I used to be in a band called Beige Floyd. I think you could best describe our style as “Acid Easy Listening”, although some have called it “Country and Eastern”. We shunned classical notions of rhythm and tonality in favor of what we called “geometric relationships of frequency”. We used three drum sets, a harmonica, a rain stick, a washboard, a sousaphone and six electric guitars tuned to alternating parallel fifths to explore the spaces between classical harmonies and dissonant boundaries. Our one and only album, called “One Man’s Trash”, was a big hit among members of the band. The world was not ready for so radical a departure from the provincial, tribal beats to which it is accustomed, however, and so we had to disband about ten minutes into our first gig.
We have toyed with the idea of a reunion, but our members have scattered out to the corners of the city. One moved to Colorado. Occasionally I hear a new song on the radio and detect a hint of the classic Beige Floyd sound. It always makes me proud to have been a part of something bigger than myself, however briefly.
Oh well, life goes on. Things change. It’s like that line from the third song on “One Man’s Trash”. I don’t remember the name of the song, but the lyric says it all:
Life goes on. Things change.
Amen, dudes. Amen.
Hello, friends. I trust you're well.
Later. Love.
(originally posted September 17, 2004 on my cogito blog.)
