The guys had just finished their first band practice. They got together when the bass player posted an ad on craigslist looking for musicians to start a pop-punk band with emo and metal influences. They all believed they could be something really unique. The drummer stowed away his cymbals in their bags and the guitarist closed the latches on his case.
“I thought that went awesome,” the bass player said.
“Sure, man. Same time next week?” the guitarist said.
“I may be a little late,” said the drummer.
“Well,” said the guitarist, “if we’re going to be a band we should have a band name. I have some ideas.” The guitarist wanted to be the singer and lyricist too so he had lots of ideas. Ideas coming out of every orifice.
“Any band name we have has got to pass the myspace test. If we can’t register our name on myspace it’ll just confuse all our fans,” said the bassist.
That made sense to the guitar player and the drummer went along with it as they climbed the stairs and gathered around the bassist’s computer to look up some of the guitar player’s ideas. The bassist sat in his swivel chair with his bandmates standing behind his shoulders. The guitar player produced from his wallet a business card for a National Guard recruiting sergeant, scrawled on the back was a list of potential band names.
“The first one on my list is ‘The Midnight Snacks’.”
“Cool, I love midnight snacks,” said the drummer.
“All right,” said the bassist, “let me just punch it in here…and… myspace.com/midnightsnacks is… a vegan bakery in Richmond, Virginia.”
“Ok, ok, fine. The next one on my list is ‘Miasma’.”
“Whoa, that can be kind of badassy and metaly, said the drummer, “what’s it mean?”
“It’s like noxious, polluted air. With a little foreboding feeling too.”
“How do you spell that?” the bassist asked.
“Ok, I’ll enter that in and…it’s… a death metal band from Switzerland. Oh look, they have a song called ‘Toothless Blowjob’.”
“Awesome!” said the drummer. “Play it.”
“Let’s just move on. The next one on my list is ‘Mental Radio’. That was the title of an Upton Sinclair book about his second wife’s telepathic abilities.”
“Ok… and myspace.com/mentalradio… is… a seventeen year-old from Georgia making dance music.”
“Argh!” cried the guitarist. “Those are all the best ones on my list. Ok, try ‘The Gay Republicans’.”
“I’m not either of those things, I don’t like it,” said the drummer.
“I don’t like it either, but that doesn’t matter because… it’s…an acoustic duo from England. And Senator Fred Thompson is their top friend.”
“I’m pissed now. All right, this is my favorite on the list. ‘Rocket Summer’. It was a Ray Bradbury story.”
“Dude, that’s already a band,” said the drummer. “My sister thinks their singer guy is cute.”
“Ok guys, that’s my whole list. I think every band name ever has been taken.”
“Perhaps the world just doesn’t need anymore music,” said the bassist.
“This sucks,” said the drummer. “I quit, I think I’ll start a solo project.”