WALLAROO SOUTH, Painted A Million Colors (cassette, 1991)

And just when you thought things were humming along really great...

Yeah, the short version is that today's post will be the last for a while -- not sure how long really. I'm tempted to say just a week, and maybe that's right. A week certainly smells right. But it could be longer. Tell you what: I'll post an update a week from today on where I am with the blog.

Okay, now if you just want to get to the WALLAROO SOUTH stuff (and who could blame you?), scroll down until you see the first picture. But if you want in on the ridiculous details of how my pathetic brain reacts to every little bump or ruffle that comes along in my stupid life, then read on, MacDuff...

Okay, about what I was saying about "just when you thought..." -- yeah, it always seems to work that way, doesn't it? I mean, you think things are going great, things are swimming, and then everything gets derailed. I wish I could say, "story of my life," but that's pure vanity: it's the story of everybody's life.

I'm tempted to lead you on a stream of consciousness roller coaster through my mind-poppingly average psyche and arrive at some kind of resolution to never do X again or always do Y in the future. And I've been racking my brain for some way to do that, but by god I've never had a moment like that in real life -- not once ever. Sherwood Anderson and Chekhov wrote about moments like that all the time, but maybe they did so because such things were pure FICTION in the real world. Or maybe people really do have moments like that and live better lives because of them (lucky shits -- probably never get bad haircuts either), but I never have. And my admittedly cursory observations of those who profess to have them lead me to conclude that such people don't know their asses from their mouths -- probably because shit comes out of both.

I'm also tempted to drivel on and skew things in ways that make me look less the pathetic jerk and more the thoughtful, contemplative savant who, although life has treated him badly, will nevertheless find some kind of redemption in extracting some great personal truth from the shitty hand he's been dealt. But that's bullshit too. Fuck, I'm an American, and like all Americans, I really have no one to blame but myself for every bit of emotional turmoil I've ever experienced.

Obviously, for those who haven't caught on yet, this is all about the breakup (you think?).

I never handle such things well (ask Jennifer or Kelly or Kristin or Andrea or Holly or Nicole or Annie or Stef (not that she and I ever had a relationship -- that was pure unrequited love -- just to be clear) or she whose name may not be spoken -- or ask any of my friends who've had to sit and watch me make a dope out of myself over some female (yeah, Mel, Val, Chuck, Nick, Gail -- I'm looking in your direction -- and the ride is just beginning, so buckle up!)). In fact, I tend to handle them in quite the juvenile fashion. Okay, I'm not going as far off the deep end as I did when I broke up with my first girlfriend at age 17, and I'm at least a little less off the deep end than I was during the divorce. But I have lots of mood swings. One hour I'm fine with it and even looking forward to the next relationship, the next I'm pissed off and lonely and anxious about the future. Amidst all that I think and say and do all sorts of things: mostly stupid things (you're probably reading one example of that RIGHT NOW!) but a few things of absolute genius, in my opinion.

I like to think of that as passion, and in my best moments I like to think that my glaring inability to play the cool breakup game is a personality strength in that it signals that I'm a human being. For better or worse, I'm an emotional guy, and I did learn a very valuable lesson from the divorce: that when I don't vent those emotions, I get into pretty dangerous territory. So in the end I suppose it serves me better to do that and make a fool of myself than it does to play it cool -- even if playing it cool were guaranteed to get me everything I wanted. Of course, none of that can erase the simple fact that being foolish is not a virtue -- it's still just foolish even where (as here) it's a necessity.

Like one's reaction to a death, one's reaction to a breakup ultimately (oh shit, he said "ultimately" -- here comes the bullshit philosophy section) has far less to do with the relationship than it does with self-image and fear of change.

On self image (notice there's no hyphen in that, by the way -- because it's a compound noun in this construction rather than a compound adjective, which would take the hyphen), mine has always been determined quite solidly by the opinions of others. It's heresy to say that, I know. As an indie rocker I'm supposed to "be my own person" and meeting life "on my own terms." But that's the worst kind of self aggrandizing claptrap I've ever heard in my life. Indie rocker types pride themselves on just that sort of individuality pablum -- and they inevitably end up creating some kind of micro-counter-culture that's just as socially oppressive as the culture they wish they were countering. Jello Biafra had it right: no gym teacher could get as many kids to dress alike as the average indie rock band (although I think he actually said "speed metal band," but it's true in either context).

So yeah, I worry about what others think of me, and a breakup (even the modern "mutual breakup") is just a super-concentrated reminder of all one's shortcomings, an underscoring in thick black magic marker of the word "inadequate" -- at least so far as the relationship that you spent the last few years investing yourself in. It makes you think less of yourself because you figure at least one person (and probably others) thinks so little of you.

As for fear of change, maybe that's obvious (but here we go anyway). Where you used to look to the future and see this person, you now see only... okay, you might be thinking I'm about to type "nothing," but it's actually worse than that: you see only yourself. And seeing yourself, you try with all your might to convince yourself that that's enough. After all, hasn't American pop culture told us from the beginning that we must love ourselves, be comfortable with ourselves? Isn't it a virtue to be a "whole person" (excuse me, I just threw up in my mouth a little) satisfied and empowered and... yeah...

It's not. It's just fucking not is all. I know this because, believe it or not, I do have a healthy self image. Sure I worry about what others think, but I'm also my own biggest fan. I'm a foot smarter than most people I run across, and I am genuinely comfortable (sometimes too comfortable) doing things on my own. And the enduringly healthy part of my self image tells me that drinking the "be comfortable with yourself" Kool-Aid is not nirvana. It's narcissism.

Thus the thought of spending the rest of my life with no one but myself is terrifying, and there's no way out of that because it should be terrifying. If it's not terrifying, I'm doing something wrong. But being right is surprisingly inadequate at dispelling the terror.

Okay, the thing to do, of course, is to meet new people. I understand that for many people in the post-breakup situation, that doesn't work, but in my case it's fucking penicillin. New personalities inevitably present new opportunities, and although I fear change as much as anyone, I get excited about new opportunities. Of course, it never works to just go out and try to dig up as many new folks as possible. Trying too hard in that arena is irredeemably pathetic.

With that in mind, I have met some new people (and taken a second look at some old acquaintances), and it does help some. In my best moments, I feel pretty good, but the dismal moments are inescapable. It's a cliche to say so, but yeah, it's a roller coaster, and for various reasons, I've decided that I need to do things differently for a little while. Combine that emotional need with the practical imperative presented by law school starting up next week, and you've got a guy who loves his blog but needs to "GET OFF THE INTERNET!" (as LE TIGRE so succinctly puts it) for a bit.

Of course, I'll still be answering e-mails (feel free to write) and who knows what else. I just need to "collect my books and get back to school" for a bit. There's no way I'm dumping this blog completely, so I'll be back in a while. And in the meantime, here's a little something to tide you over:

A couple of months after PLANET ED got together (February 1991), we did the Dayton Band Playoffs at Canal Street Tavern (because it was pretty tough to get a show during the first half of summer at Canal Street if you didn't). It was in either our first or second round that we got soundly trounced in the voting by six of the nicest kids you'd ever want to meet. Those kids were WALLAROO SOUTH.

WALLAROO SOUTH would go through a few lineup changes over the years, but at the time Painted A Million Colors was being circulated, the band was:

Jonathan Drexler - Vocals, guitar
Lesa O'Daniel - Vocals and auxiliary percussion
Aaron Jones (no relation) - guitar
Danny Stahl - drums
Felicia Letts - backing vocals, flue, keyboard, auxiliary percussion
Hans Drexler - bass

I remember disliking the name and not being too into the music at first. It was pretty derivative college radio stuff. Comparisons to POI DOG PONDERING, DAVE MATTHEWS and especially TEN THOUSAND MANIACS were inevitable. But the music grew on me, and I ended up listening to this tape quite a bit.

And regardless of what I personally thought of the music, I could never deny that they were all great musicians. I don't know for sure, but I got the impression that most of them had graduated to WALLAROO SOUTH from high school marching bands, orchestras, glee clubs, and chorale ensembles. That's not a bad progression.

I mean sure, Lesa sounded just like Natalie Merchant, but that just means she had a great vocal range and could belt the melody out pretty strongly. She was cute too (probably why Will and I always sat right up front when they played -- especially when she wore sweaters). Care to guess how many Natalie Merchant wannabes I ran across in those days who were butt ugly and couldn't carry a tune in a bucket? Trust me, you don't want to know. Lesa was the rare exception.

The others all knew what they were doing too. Aaron could alternate quite deftly between clean rhythms and flurried, Eddie Van Halen leads. Danny never missed a beat coming out of a fill (if only I could say the same about that schlub NICK ATKINSON! -- although he seemed to become a lot more precise after OXYMORONS broke up). Felicia's backup vocals were strong, and she filled out the sound quite well among all the instruments she played.

Jonathan and Hans seemed to be the creative backbone of this group. I think everyone contributed to the music, but I think Jonathan and Hans had the most control over the ultimate form of each tune. Jonathan and Lesa wrote the lyrics.

As I said, they were all very nice kids when we first met them (and still are today, I'm sure) -- very young and even "clean cut" you might say. With six members and such precise attention to their playing, they were kind of the antithesis of PLANET ED (which was a trio and probably the loosest lineup I've ever played with). However, we played quite a few shows together between 1991 and 1993, and I think we became friends. Certainly Jonathan, Hans, Will, and I used to hang out. I remember they showed up quite a few times to watch bad, gorey horror films with Will and me (other faces I associate with "The Gore Club," as Will used to call it, belonged to Ed Lacy, Rob Schaeffer (a couple of times), Dave Madisov, Dave's girlfriend Rachel, Brian Hogarth, Christine White (infrequently), and even Nick Kizirnis every now and then).

I don't know what became of Felicia or Lesa after 1993 or so. Danny and Aaron played in other bands I saw in the '90s but I can't name any of them off the top of my head. Jonathan and Hans continued with WALLAROO SOUTH until maybe 1996(?). At some point, they dropped the "SOUTH" from the name, and the music changed from lite college folk rock to harder, rougher indie rock. I have two demo cassettes from that version of WALLAROO that I'll share later. In the late '90s they moved to Chicago and started the band MY SECRET SERVICE with Aaron and Matt Espy (formerly of CAGE and MINK). Jonathan also plays in MEAN OHIO, also with Matt Espy.

Track list:

1. Love Canal
2. Little Brother
3. Break the Line
4. Chain Train
5. Aquilonia
6. Spacious One

Download It! (33 MB)

NOTE: Just right-click and choose "Save As." I Remember Dayton files are now being hosted at Weezed, so RapidShare is out of the picture -- and so am I for a bit (but I'll be back -- just you wait!).

take care

---Jones()