28/6/2012 - TOO LATE BLUES or what John Cassavetes' film has in common with my band Lexington 125

There are only a handful of things I truly love in life, and most have a lot to do with arts. Music and films have always walked hand in hand in topping my list of preferences, and I guess it's more than love for both - it's a passion, one that slowly corrodes my soul.

While my passion for film got me more in trouble with my parents, who never took my wish to attend film school as a college course seriously and turned against me when I actually did, my passion for music has severely diminished my friendships and will probably inevitably nullify them. Both films and music and my inability to take it as minor forms of entertainment and background objects has made me very miserable, but happy in my misery. I mean it in the best of ways...

But getting to the chase, tonight I watched a film I had never seen before by one of my favorite filmmakers of all time - John Cassavetes. One of the things I like about him is the way in which he likes to deal with arts, whether it's theatre in Opening Night, music in Too Late Blues or his defiance towards the whole damn cinema industry with every film he ever made (not counting his last, which shall remain nameless). Cassavetes to me renewed films and brought American cinema to a whole new exciting level.

In this film he tells the tale of a blues musician who has a band whom he writes the music for. He has strict ideologies about music and refuses to slip comfortably into commercialism. In fact, he and his band would rather play to the birds and trees, frustrated, than sell their souls for a shot at a success they know would make them miserable. They come real close to making it big and getting their studio contract and what happens? Someone snaps, a girl is involved, a fight breaks out in a recording studio and the leader of the band, played by Bobby Darin, clearly tells the band they are nothing - he is the one who writes the music, brought the band together and constantly looked to make the band work.

Bobby, playing a man who calls himself ghost, causes the band to break up in a uber-dramatic way, and turns to the commercial music he never would have wanted to play, predictably making him miserable and empty.

I have been in a band for the last few years and have been very devoted to it. I'm going to be honest here - I am the main guy in the band, I'm the one who puts on a show on stage, I'm the guy who writes the songs, I am the guy who sponsors the band, I am the guy who looks for gigs, I'm the guy who organises band practice etc. etc. Last years we recorded our first proper EP, and what was supposed to shake things up turned into the beginning of the end when our rhythm guitarist decided he had had enough and quit.

No matter - after being the guy who did almost everything in the band, I added another task to my involvement, sacrificing my wish to be a full time frontman for my love of music and picking up the second guitar task. Obviously and unfortunately, a band is not just one guy, so when the bassist announced he didn't want to be in a band anymore when things got a little uncomfortable at a festival gig, the end really showed no sign of an end.

There's more. The lead guitarist became more and more irresponsible, hypocritical and plain lazy. The first few months with the band, his commitment was tops - now he rarely has time for practice. We all have our problems, he's got his, and instead of turning his attention to music, he turns his attention to falling in love for his friends' girls like there was nothing better to do in life. The drummer means well, but he rarely plays his instrument and you can tell...

The situation here is the following. I am 22, and I find myself sitting through my day job routine not waiting for the weekend to play music and practice with my band, but wondering whether I will be able to get the guys together for practice at least once this month. The band is through, it's finished, and I have way too much passion to be wasting my time. I am also getting older and I loathe the idea of wasting the best years of my life in a factory floor...

Cassavetes, in his film, essentially points out to the fact that hypocrisy is all around us. The ideological pianist sells out. The girl gets upset when he raises his voice at her and sleeps with a different man on the same night. The people's perception of the musician in the film is that they should just get a job, that they spend their time partying and fucking. These people have never had to carry a 120W amp in the pouring rain after a gig played in front of 8 people in a bar on the outskirts of a town. It's heartbreaking, and if it's heartbreaking, why would I want to put myself through all that?

Perhaps I really do like being miserable, more than I like music itself. Perhaps I live with an undying fear of living in regret - I was blessed with a nice voice, good musical skills, a craving for the stage and I would hate to see it all go to waste, and in a few years' time think of how great I may have had it. But there is one more thing...

Ghost, in the film, by turning his back on his band realises, a year later, he is totally alone. My band mates are really my only friends. The questions are two. Am I not disbanding Lexington 125 because I believe in this band or because deep down I'm really afraid of being alone?