Most people assume that the creation of a college band is as simple as the nonchalant suggestion to a friend, “Let’s jam.” But considering how many craigslist ads call for musicians (for example: “Bassist wanted for original hard rock power pop band ... no drugs”), it seems a bit romantic to believe that people—especially goal-oriented Columbians—would opt to form bands in such a casual fashion.
Even so, for the past couple years, scarcely a single “Drummers Wanted” flyer has been hung on the bulletin in Hamilton Hall. It seems that, in reality, most Columbia bands are a product of chance and connections—students living on the same floor fool around with instruments together or some friend of a friend just happens to want to jam.
The serendipitous formation of the band Raul, composed of five Columbia students, serves as a perfect example of how regular Columbia college life can lead to a musical union. Jacob Brunner and Justin Goncalves, both CC ’09, met in their first year year when they lived on the same floor. Goncalves then befriended Sam Rosenthal, CC ’09, while interviewing him about his Men in Black concept album band, The Tycho Treaty, and the three formed Pink Drink, which eventually disbanded.
While hosting a series of wild soirees their junior year, Brunner and Goncalves got to know Alex Silva and Parker Fishel, both CC ’10. The five began to play music and christened themselves Wizards of the Coast, an earlier version of the current Raul.
But Columbians can also form bands through chance encounters in the wider city. Jerome Ellis, CC ’11, a member of the experimental band Friends, was approached by the owner of a jazz club while playing the saxophone. The club owner later asked him if he wanted to play with his wife, a free jazz pianist. Last year, the two performed at various jazz clubs around town.
However, he difficulties involved with forming a band at Columbia extend beyond effortlessly finding friends who may want to jam in the future. While acoustic bands such as The Kitchen Cabinet have an easier time finding practice space—they practice in Ruggles and are often offered venues in which to perform by groups such as Postcrypt and the Potluck House—the task is much more difficult for others.
For many campus bands, resourcefulness is key for finding practice space. “One time we practiced in the laundry room, and it was really rough,” Mike McKeever, CC ’11, of the band Life Sized Maps said. But as a band that began as an informal assembly of various musicians improvising in front of Low Library, Life Sized Maps is somewhat familiar with the upsides of practicing in odd spaces. “Sometimes we practiced in the lounge area [of Carman],” Dan Burdman, CC ’11, said. “It’s cool because people walking by were stopping and listening.”
It doesn’t help that Columbia doesn’t offer practice space for bands unaffiliated with campus clubs or the music department. “Because only one of us is a music major, we aren’t technically allowed to use the rooms that could accommodate us,” Brunner said. “There are other places that would accommodate us, but we would get kicked out because we’re loud.”
Orchestrating practice becomes infinitely more difficult for those attempting to keep high school bands alive. Trevor Vaz, CC’11, of Movement has been sending music clips back and forth to his guitarist, who attends Vassar. (Another challenge facing Movement is that their current bassist plays in another band, the Postelles, which is signed to a major label.)
In his search for a replacement bassist, Vaz has been sifting through friends and friends of friends. “It’s hard to meet random people and be creative with them immediately,” he said. “We’re trying to find people we like first and foremost.”
As Ellis put it, in order to make good music with someone, “there have to be connections on all kinds of levels.”
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