Welcome, Tim. What’s your story?
I thought you’d never ask. I’ve put it all down in a book I’ve chosen to call I Saw a Dozen Faces … and I Rocked Them All: Diary of a Never Was. See what I did there, you know, spoofing on Bon Jovi and all? I’m sorry, what was your question?
What kind of book is I Saw a Dozen Faces …?
It’s a rock and roll book, kind of a quasi-memoir about the world of an unrepentant music guy who doesn’t seem to know when to stop. Specifically, it’s my story as I remember it, but I’m sure there are many others who will relate.
And yes, as the title implies, it is the diary of a never was. One that asks (and hopes to answer) the age-old question: what makes a man start bands? But also, what compels a person to continue starting bands, keep on climbing in vans, and never want to stop making new music well past their metaphorical (and chronological) sell-by date?
Well, tell us, Tim, why is that?
I don’t want to give it all away, but …
In 1954, Doug and Rusty Kershaw sang a song called “It’s Better To Be A Has Been (Than Be A Never Was),” a humorous take on the fickle nature of fame.
Let’s face it, folks love some damn celebrity. You can’t blame them. Stuff that sparkles and shines is cool.
But what about the other side of that coin? What constitutes a “never was?” Who are the poor souls who toil in obscurity for years, and why should we care about them? They don’t necessarily sparkle or shine. Is their work as valid as that of the stars?
Hell, I don’t know. But that didn’t stop me from writing a book about being one of them.
You just need to sit down and read the book. We can discuss it at the next Rockaholics Anonymous meeting. It’ll be like book club or something.
See y’all at happy hour!
