One of my interesting conversations was with Caitlan on Google Chat, a new friend made some 17 days ago. We got on the subject of how using big words in everyday conversations can boost one's credibility, make you seem smarter and more important. We started throwing around interesting big word combinations; my favorite was "proverbial phantom wallaby," courtesy of Caitlan. I mentioned that The Proverbial Phantom Wallaby would make an awesome band name. We tossed around a few other sweet band names here and there throughout the duration of the conversation.
All this reminded me of a life dream I once had. I've always wanted to be in an awesome band, and during the summer of 2003, I decided I wanted, more than anything, to be in a sweet disco-funk band. (I was listening to a lot of disco at this time. It helped keep things bearable while I was working nights at the BK in Vernal). I envisioned the band being huge: at least two guitarists, a bassist, a drummer, a horn section (trumpet, trombone, french horn), at least two violinists, two to three backup singers, and a miscellaneous percussionist to handle the cowbell, triangle, maracas, bongos, and other awesome percussion instruments. I figured I would be one of the guitar players, and I would handle singing as well as putting together our song arrangements. There'd be a female singer to share lead vocal duties. We'd play a mixture of classic disco songs and our own compositions. In my head, it all seemed possible. I had even decided on a couple songs we'd cover: Lipps, Inc.'s "Funkytown" and, my personal favorite, the LDS classic "Together Forever." (I still think that someone could seriously record an incredible cover of that song). Who wouldn't love this band? Our music would make everything in the world alright. It's impossible to listen to great disco-funk without smiling; unless, of course, you have no soul.
All the dream band lacked was a name, and it lacked one for a while. This dream followed me to Brazil, and it was there, some six months into my mission, that a name came to me. I was in the city of Aracatuba, in my second area in the city, and I was a young senior companion. Things were tough in my area, and it was probably in trying to relieve my troubled spirit that the name came to me: Moses and his Tabernacle Choir. Of course, it would only seem clever to an LDS missionary whose daily reading consisted entirely of scripture and who could only listen to church music, stuff like the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. Everything would depend on people remembering that Moses had a tabernacle, and then connecting that idea with MoTab. (I could see the name playing well in Utah, Idaho, and Arizona; everywhere else, people would probably be confused).
It's kind of funny, but the whole description of the band sounds a lot like the Polyphonic Spree, a band that once had something like twenty members who would all dress in robes and play very happy spirit-lifting music, verily, a band I love a lot. I assure you, readers, I was not aware of the Polyphonic Spree at the time I dreamed of forming a sweet disco-funk band. I did not copy nor rip-off anyone else's idea. I still wish that I could be in a band like this. If I were, I could die happy---after doing lots of other important things (getting hitched, continuing my family tree, writing books, attending a World Cup, etc.) and getting old and decrepit, of course.
Anyway, I just thought I'd share this personal dream with the world. It felt like the right time. I should have another, more substantial post coming this week. I'm in the preparation stage, going over things in my head; I'll probably move on to the note writing/outline making stage tomorrow (later today, actually).
Time to get the funk out (and into the world)!
