I’m Sorry I Never Had A Death Metal Band
It’s one of my biggest regrets. If only I had known as a teen that hardly anyone who starts a band has a clue what they’re doing, and very often lacks any real musical skill (at least in the beginning). If I could go back, I’d set aside all my unsatisfied, unacknowledged longing, my burnt-out admiration and I’d start a band, or just do it all myself.
As a teen I dreamed up names for my imaginary band. Holy Sepulchre would be cool, a nod to my first big love, Sepultura. While we were still finding our feet, people who knew us well could call us Holy Shit.
I’d get really lean and muscular. I’d wear long sleeve shirts and leather pants, the suggestion of abdominal muscles and discipline under forbidding, perpetual black, covering everything but clinging close to flat torso and long limbs. I’d sound like Jarboe by way of Killjoy from Necrophagia, with a Khanate flash of Alan Dubin. I’d be weird and creepy and hard to put your finger on, not quite female but certainly not male. I always thought I’d make a great front woman.
What a pity I didn’t understand that so much of doing a thing is not reflecting on it overmuch. I wonder how different my life would be if I applied this hard-earned learning to myself now instead of sighing over hindsight.