The basement band rehearsed again this past Sunday. I know, the normal term is "garage band," but we literally rehearse in Gary's basement. Plus, I like the shout-out to Dylan's "Basement Tapes."

In some ways, there is a correlation — we're working out early rock just like Dylan (according to Greil Marcus) was working out the mysteries of American music. Like Dylan and the Band in Big Pink's basement, we're mainly getting together to have a good time. Tape is not yet rolling, nor is anyone running upstairs to type out appropriately mysterious lyrics — "Yeah, heavy and a bottle of bread!"

Seems like this thing was Jim's idea — Jim had a similar band in high school and/or college. In his day job, Jim is an M.D. studying childhood rheumatism; in the band, he's the lead guitarist and has suggested many of the songs. Gary is a local corporate attorney, and plays bass. Rod (the god) plays awesome rhythm guitar (and supplemental lead); by day, he works for the local Daily Disappointment. Brian is our drummer, and is also a local attorney. I'm primarily a back-up singer and harmonica player, who should not quite yet quit his day job. All of us attend the same church.

The group has been jamming in Gary's basement for 2-3 months now. Brian joined the weekend before Memorial Day. Gary has invited me to join several times since the group started, but I didn't say yes until the Sunday of Memorial Day weekend. We rehearsed that Sunday night, then performed at a garden party Monday afternoon. Given that I had only rehearsed with them the night before, I think we acquitted ourselves pretty well.

In honor of my cousin Gerry, I've actually been attempting to "cross-harp" on some of the numbers – with moderate success. If I back off the mike a pinch, not many can hear over the electric guitars. The other guys in the band seem to like my harmonica playing, and it's gotten a fairly positive response from the two audiences who have heard us to date.

Part of my function seems to be talking to the audience. I just sort of started doing it without asking permission, just because nobody else was. Guess my gift of chatter comes from my brief shining career as a radio dj, and my briefer more shining career as half of "Lark & Harp." Anyway, one of the running gags has been what to name our band. I had been lobbying for "Blast Furnace and the Heat Waves," but no one was fond of that. For a while, Jim was lobbying for the "Cantor Barrys", which happily fell on unsympathetic ears. When we played the gig for the CPAs and Drs. two Fridays back, I introduced us as the "Heritage Hills Hooligans." Finally, this past Sunday, we settled on "St Jim & the Infirms."

Don't know that we'll ever do the song that name derives from, but I'm up for it.

Well, I'm digging being part of a rough-edged rock band. I appreciate the challenge of being part of a group, and doing my best to sublimate my rapacious ego for the good of the whole.