True Tales of Rock Ribaldry: The Incestuous Burlington Music Scene

By. Dr lex

Photos by Matthew Thorsen

Left to Right: Julia Austin, John Lilja, Any Cotton, Paul Gibson, Darryl Rabideaux, Jeff Howlett. 

Good Citizen magazine is back, let the good word ring from the rooftops. To herald the ballyhooed magazine’s triumphant return, I have decided to present to the readership, old and new alike, an analysis of the Burlington music scene’s penchant for incestuous band formations. Even a relative newcomer to the scene would very soon recognize the familiar faces that populate the local band sector are in many cases a recycled configuration of the same folks who have previously rocked under other circumstances.That is to say, rock and / or roll in this town has made some strange bedfellows indeed. You see, I started out wanting to explore the gnarled branches of our fair city’s musical family tree, but soon realized that such an endeavor could very easily take up the bulk of the publication. I am certain that this is something that my editors, already fearing my penchant for running off at the mouth (or the keyboard), have every right to be wary of. 

Instead of de-programming every band in town and their member alliances, which would be a scholarly and laborious task, I have decided instead to theorize on why exactly it is that no one musical group in this town seems to have found the secret to exclusivity of membership. There are case examples, of course, that I must refer to illustrate the severity of the situation, and I hope that everyone manages to look at this phenomenon objectively. Let’s start with theory one, which I have found is the most accepted explanation for so much musical cross pollination in the Queen City. 

This town is small, let’s face it. You have only so many eligible musicians per capita anyway. So is it so strange that a great many bands have shared players? That is the crux of this first theory. My editor’s band, Chin Ho! Has been around long enough to have weathered the initial sort of replacement members, and surely they all can testify to this phenomenon first hand. Understandably, member changes can severely alter a band’s sound, and in some instances can damage credibility, but honestly, what other choices are there if the driving forces of a band want to continue progressing, but are in need of a drummer or guitarist to replace musicians who have decided to move in other directions? It’s not Rocketsled science. It just so happens that the pool of worthy players in this town often can’t compete with the demand for their individual services. Therefore you get this bizarre inbred band scene, ot “six” degrees of Denny Donovan,” as I sometimes call it. But What is it that leads certain members to stray from their respective bands in the first place? What kind of wanderlust permeates this town’s players anyway? I think this is probably the real question that needs to be asked. Is it that every musician in this town is a complete and utter jerk-face, and impossible to work with for more than a year? I find this highly improbable. Sure, there are differences of opinion, taste and lifestyle which no doubt contribute to this situation. But not everybody is at odds with everybody else. I live here, I play here, and I can attest to the fact that although some folks certainly could benefit from some rock star deprogramming, not everybody has those tiny daggers in their eyes. So that is the true story?

Interest of fair and responsible journalism, not that catch penny Gannet style shit, I propose theory number two. Back in the mid-fifties, the Department of Defense was working with the CIA to develop a highly volatile serum, which when diluted to a fraction of it’s original potency, could be added to an entire village’s water supply with severe effect and absolutely no traceability. The substance itself, called Schizo-X012, had a remarkable effect on the first test subjects, who were unwittingly given large doses. You see, the drug worked to erode certain receptors in the brain’s loyalty centers, creating a feeling of self-righteousness, and blatant disregard for any larger unity. It was theorized that if the drug could somehow be dropped into the Soviet water supply, that their citizenship would begin to become unfazed by red propaganda, ultimately become disloyal to the communist state, thereby prompting revolution from within. However, the CIA recognized early on that there was no way of knowing how much of the chemical would be needed to effectively contaminate a large supply of water, so they searched for a geographically remote test site, somewhere in the United States, preferably a town with no substantial effect on the mechanisms of the rest of America. They realized that Lake Champlain and the tiny city on her shores would do quite nicely. However, the Bay of Pigs fiasco severely stymied the amount of funding the CIA was to be allocated in the coming decades, and the Department of Defense was knee-deep in Vietnam, so the project remained developed but untested for years. Finally, in 1985, the entire drinking supply of Lake Champlain was contaminated with SchizoX-12. But then the Cold War ended and the project was closed without regard for the poor sods who drank the contaminated water, or their children, some of whom were to grow up to be musicians. The effect of this contamination has never accurately been documented, because in typical covert style, the feds have disavowed any knowledge of the operation. Yet one doesn’t have to look far, however, to see the terrifying results. Band members in the test region have a blatant disregard for long term organization, and have some severe attention deficit disorders, perhaps directly resulting from this top secret experiment. Of course, having revealed the possible source for the nomadic tendencies of our local rocker I am in extreme fear of retaliation from government assassins. But I’m used to this kind of thing, as the Mob has been after me for years. Sometimes, I wish Jim Lockridge would just hurry up. And complete that paceship he’s working on so I could get the hall out of danger. Which leads me into theory number three. 

I have no real proof of this one, but it seems more than plausible. I propose that local musicians have been the subject of mizzare extra-terrestrial experimentation, and in some cases, have been replaced with nearly perfect clones, while the real musicians are being kept in the UFO in a state of suspended animation, perhaps being held for future study. Not to name any names, but has anyone been noticing Chris Parizo’s behavior lately? It’s almost as if he wasn’t quite…Nah, it can’t be. But what if it were all true? Could this be the reason why all these players are so nonchalant about swapping members? Maybe they are all connected to one big rock n’ roll mainframe back on the mothership. That way the movement of these clone musicians could be directed by the spaceship, while the extra-terrestrials themselves have more time to study the poor hapless real musicians, held prisoner on the flying saucer. It seems far fetched, but if I didn’t come forth with these potentially earth shattering revelations, who would? The rest of you are content to sit idly by while the evil aliens play “Invasion of the Body Snatcher” with our local talent. Well, not this man on the street, mister. Besides, how do I know you aren't one of them?

At any rate, I would love to spend some time in another town with a population around the size of Burlington, so I could study the music scene there. Mauve I’m crazy - maybe this kind of musical wife swapping is just as prevalent elsewhere. I’m not so sure though. Most bands around here seriously cannot seem to get past the one year mark without a member change. Seriously, folks. Look at your own band. Am I right? If anyone can give me documented proof of a band formed within this last decade that have stayed together for more than three and half years with no personnel changes, write to this magazine. There are conditions, you know - we can’t have Big Bibbe and the Blues Blisters who’ve been around since 1976 playing one gig a year claiming this prize. But I'd like to know who you are, and as an incentive, I’ll be giving away a nifty prize. We’ll tell you what it is after you win. Maybe it will be the chance to come over to my house and drink with me a while I tell you amusing anecdotes about life on the run with Elvis. I don't know. I’ll think of something. So take the Lex Challenge. Prove to me that this quaint little lakeside town isn’t the home of some twisted malevolent machination. 

And remember, call before you dog! -GC-

Dr. Lex isn't really one of those conspiracy freaks. He knows that you’re all probably nice people. Just don’t try to get near him. Really.