Lynn playing bass. I don't know what we're working on.

One thing that certainly made us different from any other rock and roll band we were aware of was the presence of written music spread out on folding chamber music stands at our rehearsals and sometimes even at our performances. We became known as the only rock band in town that could read music. It didn't mean we could play a whole lot better than other bands. What it really meant was that we didn't memorize easily, and still could not play well by ear, a shortcoming that is common among classically trained musicians. But our ability to read music did get us a few unusual side jobs.

This is an appropriate juncture to comment on the preposterous paint job on some of our equipment, seen in this and a few other pictures. Shortly after we signed with Jim Mohr as our manager, and settled on the name Time for the band, Jim decided it might be a good idea to give our equipment a visual kick. He hired a guy who advertised himself as an ``artist'' (note the quotes) to come in and do a paint job on the cabinets of the organ, bass amplifier, and PA speaker columns. Fortunately, he left our precious Vox Beatle amplifier alone.

The paint was not even dry yet before we realized that we hated what we did. We wanted to lynch the guy. I'm sure he had to make a run for the parking lot.

Apparently he had no idea what sort of band we were trying to be, and must have figured that any group he was likely to encounter in Buffalo was hoping to make it as a club and bar band in any of the drink and dance establishments around the city, for which the chintzy decor you might find in a topless joint would be perfectly acceptable. Therefore, he dished up for us a pattern with our name in tasteless psychedelic letters in DayGlo colored paint on a white background. It was absurd and an embarrassment to us. We were eventually able to afford some paint with which we could paint over our abused cabinets, returning them to a more dignified solid color.