On July 27th, a venue I’ve never played at, announced they were shutting down. Sure, I had played there back when it was called The Red Raven, but I had never played The New Direction. One of my bandmates is in 65* bands and has played there often, another bandmate started the damn thing, the third, and final bandmate, was at Takes Manhattan’s one show in this building, if I recall [I did not recall. He was not]. We all sat around (digitally, of course, it is 2016) and talked about how we should play one of the last shows. They were announced as being September 23rd and 24th. I told the two guys who knew how to make such things happen, to make it happen. I am awful at booking.

On Sunday, August 7th, the band I am in, Triple Deke, practiced. It was unremarkable, but was essential nonetheless. After practice, the guy who is in 89* other bands said we couldn’t get on the 23rd or the 24th, but they were adding a third “final show”, September 22nd. I said sure, we all said sure and I left it up to them. I am awful at all band things.

On Tuesday, August 9th, the bass player of Triple Deke posted in our group chat, that our name had been spelled, ‘Triple Deek’ on the Facebook “event” post for September 22nd. This was my notification that we made it on the bill. The guy who is in 1,356,332* bands said he’d get the name fixed. He did.

Now, that’s relatively unremarkable, right? Bewtween the four of us we have played thousands of shows in places like this, a lot of them in this place, in fact. I’m sure two of them have feelings about The New Direction closing down, but I don’t have any personal attachment to it. Just being real. My first thoughts were selfish; “well, shit, where are we going to play now?” My second thoughts were slightly more reasonable, “this is awful for Fargo”. But I never really thought about what The New Direction meant to ME, because, frankly, it doesn’t mean anything to me, outside of what it gave Fargo, which can not be understated. So I have no feelings about playing the third to last show at TND. I am very appreciative to them for the opportunity and I look forward to it greatly, but it’s not some tearful, goodbye TND thing, if that makes sense. In fact, due to some wedding stuff for a dear friend of mine, I won’t even be able to attend either of the last two shows. Fate? Probably not.

But it does mean something to me in a different way. The second I saw “Triple Deke FIRST SHOW! (Members from Life Won’t Wait, Crab Legs, Takes Manhattan and The Pukes) my heart started racing. I don’t think of myself as a ‘former member of Takes Manhattan’. I don’t think of myself in anyway when it comes to music anymore. I always used to say, “I’m not a musician, I am a drummer™” because that’s all I wanted to be. I wanted to be a drummer that people heard and thought, “that band is pretty sweet, their drummer doesn’t suck enough to be a distraction” or to not think about me at all. But now, I am a guy who owns a drumset, who happens to be in a band. I don’t see myself as any of this stuff anymore. Or, more appropriately, I didn’t until I saw that. I am a ‘former member’ of Takes Manhattan.

And that was tough for me to accept, I think. Maybe not being a "musician" anymore didn’t bother me because I told myself I never was one. Maybe I needed to separate myself from that past to not shoot myself in the face when I thought about how badly I wanted to be a musician growing up. Maybe that’s why I never allowed myself to consider myself a “musician”, in the first place. Because I hadn’t done shit yet. Maybe I felt like I had to ‘earn’ that title, whatever that means. Who knows.

So I sat in my office and teared up.

 

Not a week ago I smiled to myself in the car and thought, “I am over John Hart”. I really felt like I was and I really feel like I am. I love that son of a bitch more than I could ever begin to describe, but I don’t get down like I did. I don’t feel like I did. On the anniversary of his death, all I could think was, “Am I sad he’s dead or am I sad I don’t feel the way I used to feel about it anymore?” Well, One facebook post changed that pretty quickly. I saw that “members of” and realized what it was. I used to be in Takes Manhattan and now I am in Triple Deke. Sure, I USED to be in Five Star Fracture, but that had to end. It shouldn’t have ever ended, but, at the time, it had to. But Takes Manhattan was fucking ripped right out of my hands. I never had a chance to say goodbye to Takes Manhattan. I never had a chance to make my peace with Takes Manhattan. I finally feel like I have had that chance with John, but I never got that chance with “The ‘Hat”.

This all kind of hit me at once. I wanted to tell people about it before I was tagged in anything, but I had no clue what to say. So I pretty much said, ‘I don’t know what to say’. It was rambling and awful (not unlike most things I write) but I meant it (not unlike most things I write). The only thing I wanted to get across was how much it would mean to me to see some of my friends who were there then, here now. I’m not sure I even succeeded at that, unfortuantely. But this first show could be the last show. Trust me. I know it too well. Things happen, everything falls apart.

I’ve often thought about what it would mean to me to play another show in front of anyone again. I thought I might cry my eyes out. I thought I might scream. I thought it might not affect me in anyway. I really don’t know. I’ve thought about what I would wear, I’ve thought about what we would sound like, how people would react, how it would be the worst and how it would be the best. I’ve thought about looking up and not seeing John.

But I never thought about how much seeing it in print, confirmed for the world to see, would mean to me. I never thought about how I would really enjoy making music with dudes the way I enjoyed it with John. I never thought I’d be a part of something like this again. But I guess here we are.

On July 2nd, 2009, John Hart and Takes Manhattan died. A few weeks later I sold my drum kit and figured I’d never play drums by myself again, let alone with friends, in front of a crowd.

 

On September 22nd, 2016, I am going to play a punk rock show in front of people again, barring any last minute changes, cancellations, stage fright, whatever. I have no idea what I will feel then, but I know it’s for the best. I know now that I needed to get back on this horse a long time ago.

Words can’t really describe how much I am looking forward to it. If you’re there (and you should be, please) come talk to me like the good old days. I’ll cry, we’ll hug and I can move on.

Finally.

*BJ Moore is now in 2,009,124 bands since this was written. God bless him.