The Toby Tyler Band

The room was a mess. Bottles laying all over the floor, furniture turned over, drapes ripped down and bodies lying everywhere in puddles of puke and piss. It looked like a gruesome crime scene. It wasn’t though. Looks can fool you. There was too much snoring to be a true crime scene. It was Toby Tyler’s hotel suite after a party. It always looked this way after a party and Toby partied every night. Toby partied so much that he knew that one of these days it was going to be a crime scene.

Toby was, of course, the lead singer of the Toby Tyler Band. They’d been at it for thirty years. Playing, not partying. Well, actually, both were true. At times they didn’t know which was which. The audience didn’t care. They were not there to hear Toby Taylor music. Thirty years and Toby could remember about half of the songs. He didn’t always remember which lyric went with what song.. That put him way up on the rest of the band. Some of them were lucky to remember the songs, never mind what they were playing or who they were. What a life! If he had it to do over again, Toby thought he’d do it all differently. He knew that he wouldn’t but thinking so salved his conscience a little rest. His father was a corrupt lawyer and mom was a former nun. They might not be proud of them but they always cashed his check.

Toby headed for the bathroom hoping no one was lying on the floor there or, if they were, that they weren’t dead. If they were dead, he hoped they didn’t block the stalls or smell too gamy. Toby was in no mood for the police and their questions. Questions like, “Do you understand your rights?” Understand his rights? Toby was way past understanding anything. Well, he understood he had to go to the bathroom, dead person or no dead person. Being dead a little longer wasn’t going to mean much. Waiting to go to the bathroom would.

A shower was next. Toby wouldn’t mind showers so much if they weren’t so loud. Why does water have to be noisy? How do the fish stand it? Toby’s head hurt enough without all that water noise. Boy, what he wouldn’t give for a day with no headache. Not enough to give up the partying that’s for sure. Toby wondered if the partying was what kept them all going. If the party stopped maybe they would too. He wondered if he’d know it. Thinking hurt his head even worse.

Food! Toby needed to eat. He was really hungry. He couldn’t remember whether he’d eaten the day before. He forgot sometimes. He ordered a huge breakfast and ate it all. He felt a lot better until he threw it all back up. It didn’t look any different but he felt all gaggy. Ooh! No greasy, fried eggs for this boy. He called and ordered some dry toast and cereal. Dry toast and cereal. Jeez. Later on, as the nausea left, he’d get a steak.

Now what? Have to do a show later tonight so no drinking now, that’s for sure. He barely made it sober; he’d never make it drunk. Well, heck, go to the beach. A nice walk along the beach, listening to the waves crashing on the shore, eyeing up the babes. Oh, yea, that sounds like just the thing. Maybe not walk the beach, that seemed like too much. Maybe just lie there quietly contemplating his navel or something. Crap! He was getting as goofy as the people who came to see the band, the bunch of degenerate low lifes.

Toby thought he might work on a new song for the band. It had been a long time since he’d done any new stuff. Surely he hadn’t lost the touch. He could still do it if he made the effort. Making the effort seemed like too much effort right there. Then the band would have to learn the song and actually remember it until it was burned into their brains. Toby laughed out loud. Burn and brain and this band! What a laugh.

The laugh woke up drummer Vince Wilson, who’d been sleeping under the coffee table. Vince sat up, slammed his head and fell back unconscious. See you tonight, Vince. No, Vince is getting back up. Must have just stunned him a bit. Vince made it to his feet and stared at Toby. OK, he has Toby figured. Now, where the hell is he? Deciding that it didn’t rally matter, Vince lurched off towards the bathroom. Vince wouldn’t care if there were ten dead bodies in there.

Bass player Andy Howard woke up when Vince walked across his stomach on the way to the bathroom. Andy yelled and then he, too, threw up. Oh, man. Need to get the maids up here early today. The place is beginning to smell bad. Well, the maids didn’t mind so much because they were given very big tips. OK, they did mind but a big tip made up for it. Andy looked at the mess he’d made all over himself and thought he’d have to take a bath now. One more decision out of his hands. Good. Andy didn’t like decisions. Andy like Scotch whiskey and women. Scotch whiskey and a Scotch woman was nirvana for him.

That left keyboard player Sam Anderson still sleeping. He could sleep through a fire and once did. All that woke him up was the firemen hosing him down. Ruined his clothes, which he’d been sleeping in. That was OK since the fire had done damage to them anyway. Sam liked to sleep until just before concert time. That was his whole life. Sleep, play, party and sleep. That’s it and there was no more. What a life.

The limo’s got the band to the arena with time to spare. Sometimes that wasn’t the case if one of the boys had wondered off and couldn’t be found. Driver Willy Grey had been seeing to the band for thirty years. He liked to brag that he’d never lost one of them yet except, “that time in San Francisco when the earthquake hit.” Then he’d lost the band, the limo, and damn near his life. He suspected that the band didn’t care about any of it. The quake was, in Vince’s words, “too cool to be real”.

There was the usual packed house in the arena, waiting and ready for the show. The band’s road manager , Carly Trestman, was also waiting and ready. He started as their regular manager until he realized that he was no match for the big boys. After several rip-offs, he got them a real manager. Now he is happy. He is sort of like their butler or their mother. He’s all that keeps them going. He doesn’t party and is the only sensible one there.

When all was said and done, and a lot was said and done, the show went on. The band played as only they could. The audience loved them and the band loved the audience. It was a shame they wouldn’t be able to remember it tomorrow morning.

Maybe it would be better if they didn’t.

“Rock 'n' roll never forgets.”

“If you want to release your aggression, get up and dance. That's what rock and roll is all about.”- Chuck Berry

“I’ve been imitated so well I've heard people copy my mistakes .”- Jimi Hendricks

“If anyone asks you what kind of music you play, tell him ‘pop. Don't tell him ‘rock‘n’roll or they won't even let you in the hotel.”- Buddy Holly

“Well, I wouldn't want to say that I started it (rock ‘n’ roll), but I don't remember anyone else before me playing that kind of stuff.”- Fats Domino

“Just because I cut the heads off dolls doesn't mean I hate babies, I just hate dolls.”- Alice Cooper

“If you tried to give rock and roll another name, you might call it 'Chuck Berry.”- John Lennon

“There's only one true king of rock 'n' roll. His name is Chuck Berry.”- Stevie Wonder