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.