Several names were bandied about, a few of them used, at least temporarily, before the band (and to some extent the band’s parents) decided on a final name. The first name was The John Birch Society. No one in the band knew much about that organization, but we thought the name absurdly cool sounding. Brillo’s parents did not like the name so we changed it. Let’s face it, we didn’t have any real attachment to it. The only problem with losing the name was coming up with another. The pressing complication was that we were soon about to play an engagement. Eric came to the rescue by quickly pulling The 2001 Electric Vacuum out of his ass on the night of the show (a talent show held in The Little Theatre of the new high school). He had a black light poster with those words on it and reasoned we might get a bit of tie-in recognition from the movie 2001: A Space Odyssey. For what it’s worth, I don’t remember what songs we performed that night. I think we played two or three numbers. That’s all washed away now.
The band had a powwow the next week and put its noses to the grindstone and came up with the name The House of Representatives. I still like the name because of its openness. One could assume that the name referred to that legislative body of the US government, but we thought also that the House could choose its own causes to represent. The band’s messages were mostly we like and lust for girls, and we like to experiment.
Some of the songs in the playlist were starting to come around. After I had finally learned to sing it, we got a pretty hefty arrangement, with lots of room for extended jamming, out of She’s Not There, a hybrid cover of a cover extracted from The Zombies via The Vanilla Fudge. The band also sloshed its way through plenty of mindless pop ditties for the pure and simple reason that the ditties were easy to arrange and play, and added quantity to the playlist. I believe a few songs came from the Mook’s Session’s set, and quite a few came from The Heroes because Eric’s brother taught him the basic changes and arrangements. Big Brother once came to our practice and helped us iron out some problems we were having with Proud Mary. After awhile, though, Brillo really came into his own when it came to learning songs. We kind of felt unstoppable.
The House of Representatives played its second engagement at another talent show, held this time in our junior high gym/auditorium. The band holed up near the eastern side of the home bleachers and watched the acts before and later after us. A brass quartet that played a classical piece won the show, but in a fuck you moment The H of R had procured the auditorium for a one hour free concert following the talent show. The band finally had enough material for a performance exceeding an hour and planned to show it off.
Actually, the talent show went pretty well. We played Groovin, Time Is Tight, and 1, 2, 3 Red Light during the competition. I thought we sounded pretty good. I know we looked cool. A guy who played trombone in the brass quartet, and who was the singer in Tig’s band, told me he thought we sounded good, and that he’d stayed for the extended set. He sat-in on drums during an impromptu jam one Sunday afternoon at Brillo’s (following some spirited basketball). He was a much better drummer than the fellow who played for The Representatives, but he didn’t own a set of drums.
For whatever reason, the band members decided that our vocals were not up to standard. I ran into Crawfish one day and invited him over to sing. He had somehow managed to get out of the draft, and so one afternoon he came around to check us out. His singing sounded pretty good. Crawfish added a lot, including a few useable songs, to The House. He agreed to join.
Trouble reared its head immediately. In a nutshell, Brillo’s parents didn’t like the idea of this older guy playing in the band. Since they owned our practice space we really couldn’t hold out against them. Arguments followed. The best Brillo’s parents could come up with was that since Crawfish was married, and older than us, anyone who might have seen him entering the house might think he was there to see Brillo’s older sister, who was already engaged to be married herself. Yeah, so what? “It just looks bad. It could spoil our daughter’s reputation.” This sort of logic fell on my brain like a thud. My view, then and now, was that’s the problem was with the nosey bastards who might be unable to mind their own businesses while The House of Representatives did the people’s business in the basement. What another thought was quite a ways from the concerns of the members of the band, ready, smart-assed lads all. “Eat me!” we said often.
Of course now I realize that what Brillo’s parents didn’t like was that a 26 year old married guy with no visible means of support wanted to play in a band with their son. The parents, especially Brillo’s mom, kept trying to make the incident into some sort of moral or religious test. That smelled like a rat to me. All the guy did was sing. He didn’t try to hump Brillo’s sister, he didn’t try to get us on beer or cigarettes, and he didn’t offer or try to sell us any dope. Still, Brillo’s parents wouldn’t budge until they got their ways. We compromised by agreeing to dump Crawfish after a party we had been engaged to play at the end of the week. The parents didn’t like it, but they agreed.
The party was a typical teen affair, not so unlike the birthday party of my first gig. To be honest, I don’t remember whose party it was or what the occasion was. The band looked wild. Eric had procured the upper part of a high school marching band uniform and looked for all the world like John Lennon on the Sgt. Pepper’s cover. Brillo wore his mom’s handprint on his left cheek. Crawfish told me Brillo’s mom blew-up because Crawfish was still going to sing, and tried to keep her son from playing. Brillo didn’t say much that night.
The Crawfish incident had really pissed me off. If Brillo’s parents had a real reason why we shouldn’t have played in a band with Crawfish, well that would have been different, but what they laid out was bullshit and we all smelled it. I was much more interested in the band deciding who would play in it. I really didn’t think it was their place to interfere. What’s next? They going start selecting our material, too? We were all about freedom, not this nonsense.
School was about to let out for the summer and we had used the talent show to finagle a dance at the junior high a few days after classes ended. The principal told us he would announce the dance, and he did, not over the intercom, but in person when he blocked the front door as students were heading out after receiving final report cards. Nothing like that personal touch, I guess.
The dance was poorly attended and we made three to five dollars each. However, it was still quite successful in most ways. We sounded pretty good and the people seemed to have a good time. Hell, I even saw my mom dancing during a song played near the end of the gig. Another thing was that we had endured a three hour performance. Even though friction was building within the band, we were all still on speaking terms and felt like we were finally ready to take on the big bands in the area.
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