I Can't Believe It's Gone

BooN was one of the single greatest eras of my life. I sang in this rock band of Southsiders, and no tenure in any future bands will ever eclipse that experience. Every time I hear Bathwater, Piece of My Heart, and Clocks, I swoon a little.

When I left Bleeding Turnips, my previous band, I looked in the Chicago Reader for gigs. I didn't know what I was looking for. I posted an ad, also, offering my services as a badass rock singer. That fateful email arrived. Omar Pudding was his name. Omar wanted me to sing for his already established band in Beverly. Never having driven that far, and knowing the Southside to be "bad," I confided my doubts to a friend who knew a cop. The cop friend checked the potential audition address, and assured me I would be fine. Mr. Pudding and I set a date, and off I went.

I got lost. So lost. I wanted to turn back. I would be so late, and I was embarrassed. I called Omar to tell him I was sorry, I wouldn't make it. But Omar insisted he could get me to my destination, and that I shouldn't give up. And also, that his name was really Steve. He just used Omar as a catchy online persona. I trudged through 50 blocks of stoplights, another highway, and made it. The audition was great. Steve and Tim (who would soon be known as Pyg, or Pantene Man) were old buddies who had played for 20 years in countless bands. They told me I had free reign. Just pick some songs I liked, and they would play them. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is exactly what my heart desired.

So, BooN played for a couple years. I sang leads on everything. We did Led Zeppelin, Beatles, The Pretenders, Susan Tedeschi. When you're in a bar band, (even though I'm anal about not pirating music), you can't get the rights to every song. I mean, to get the legal rights to perform an evening of songs, you'd end up having to pay 40 times as much as you made that night in tips, if any. I still feel the need to cite the original musicians, though, and I would in witty banter between numbers. "This is one of my favorite Police songs," or "Thank you Rachel Yamagata for writing this gem," etc. There was one song, though--and I didn't sing it--we had no idea where it came from. Tim had a bootleg of a bootleg recording of this ditty with a hard thumping bass drum opening, a gritty Joe Jackson type of vocal lead, and a theremin solo. This song of heartache was called "I Can't Believe You're Gone," or at least that was our best guess. Tim got to sing leads, because he could hit the notes, the key was perfect as it was, and I got a vocal break to play their homemade theremin. I really liked that song, and I was really bad at the theremin, but the novelty was a bit of a hit with the crowds. At gigs, I would typically acknowledge the fact that this song was a mystery, and people wouldn't pay attention. And then the song would kill.

After playing tons of shitty bars, we finally got our chance to play Horseshoe on Lincoln, and the show was very well-publicized. There was a real live sound guy. Tons of our friends showed, my cleavage looked awesome, and we were ready to rock. The only caveat: the dear theremin was left behind during load-in on the southside. Realistically, the solo could be played by Steve on the keyboard, and heck, I wouldn't mind taking a beer break. On with the show. After my first set, I left the stage for Tim to sing his big number. I trudged past the throng, grabbed a beer, and stood with the sound guy. He looked a little stunned. I leaned over and yelled over the noise, "I love this song!"

With a confused glare, he said something back.

I chirped, "What?"

"It's just really weird hearing someone else do this song," he muttered.

He knew the mystery song! I had to know who the band was. I interrogated, "Do you know this song? I love this song! Who does it? We don't even know who this is!"

With some anger in his tone, he turned to me and said, "The Webb Brothers. It's my band. We broke up a couple years ago."

Silence

"It's just really weird hearing someone else do it."

I didn't know what to say to him. I felt really badly, and I wanted to give him all $6 of our tips. He later assured me he wasn't upset, just shocked. I found the song on iTunes and bought it. I want you all to go out and buy it, too.