I drove a U-Haul truck for 10 hours yesterday.
Not for myself, but for a friend. He's moving to Louisville, KY from Fayetteville, NC. Actually, he's being transferred from Ft. Bragg to Ft. Knox. Yep, we're in the Army.
Before you start conjuring images of infantry grunts in full battle gear repelling out of helicopters and kicking down doors, let me tell you what I do: I'm in the band.
Yes, the Army has a band. I don't play the trombone, I don't repel out of helicopters, and I don't repel out of helicopters while playing the trombone. I play the bass. That is, I did before I joined the Army band.
Once upon a time, I was a musician. That is, I wanted to be one. I took piano and trumpet lessons as a kid, picked up the bass in high school, and picked up the guitar and drums in college. I got a degree in music performance, then one in audio recording.
Then I tried to get a job.
I spent the next five years in Nashville trying to find steady work in the music business. I interned at a record studio, played with every wannabe and up-and-comer I could weasel my way in with, tried to shop some songs I had written to big-time artists, and I was even a worship pastor at a small church plant. I held a bunch of odd jobs to pay the bills along the way.
Did I mention I'm in the Army?
The Nashville music scene is no place for a desperate man stubbornly holding on to his philosophy. Desperation will either lead you to sell out completely or do something completely rash and stupid. I found a way to do both.
I joined out of a desire to get out of Nashville and still "have a career as a musician". If I had known what was waiting for me, I'd have thought twice.
After a promising start in basic training and the U.S. Army School of Music, I found myself stationed at Ft. Bragg, NC. Fayetteville, Spring Lake, Raeford. If you've never been to any of these places before, don't bother. There's nothing here. Nothing. Well, nothing but strip clubs, pawn shops, and bad Korean restaurants.
Yeah, there's a mall and a bunch of chain stores here, too, but it doesn't really matter. In a way, that just makes it worse. The semblance of suburban civilization without the vibrancy of culture - urbanized or otherwise - is a bigger tease than you'd think.
Oh yeah, and the whole Army band thing? It's not exactly working out the way I'd hoped. Instead of utilizing my talents and skills, the Army (in its infinite wisdom) decided that I would be best used as a cymbalist in the marching band.
So here I am: a frustrated musician stuck in America's Cultural Taint. Keeping my sanity has been (often amusingly) difficult. Here's hoping this will be my outlet, my sanity, my commitment, my bane.
