Revolving Doors

I missed Sunday's game because of band practice. I've been in bands since I was a teenager, but this is the weirdest band yet. We're called the Lost Locker Combo and the concept is that we're an ensemble--guitars, bass, drums, keyboards, xylophone, dancers (we even lined up a cellist at one point)--that plays high school assemblies, dressing up in school uniforms and singing songs about driver's ed and peer pressure; a punk rock version of Up With People. We've been practicing for about a year and have had 19 people in the band at one time or another. In fact, we've never had the same line up two weeks in a row. When friends ask, "What do you guys sound like?", I have to qualify my answer by starting with, "Well, this week..." Most people who leave say they're too busy to keep coming. Others just disappear. But the specific reasons have been legit. One keyboardist left to have a baby. Our first singer left to move out of town with his girlfriend, who dumped him a month after they moved in together. One guitar player left to run the family florist shop, while another said he couldn't get a ride (even though he lives three blocks from our band leader who always offered rides). Someone else said it was because of the music, but I think the real reason is because I made fun of her scarf. I didn't mean to, but I do have a theory about how scarves are completely wrong for bands--punk or otherwise (see: Stevie Nicks). I feel bad about that, my timing, that is, not my theory. I suppose practice wasn't the right venue for airing that beef.

The ever-changing line-up reminds me of the Mets and their roster shifting--seven pitchers for five starting spots, Kaz or Cairo at second. I'm not really partial to any one Mets line-up, but there are benefits to change when you've dropped five of the last seven.