The Last Waltz
Some birds, like penguins, can’t fly. Others, like the majestic bald eagle, can. It’s a sentence we never expected to write, but here it is: This is the last column in the chronicles of our favorite wannabe rock star.
Some birds, like penguins, can’t fly. Others, like the majestic bald eagle, can. It’s a sentence we never expected to write, but here it is: This is the last column in the chronicles of our favorite wannabe rock star.
Ah, the glory of indie-rock touring: the drugs, the groupies, the rock. But are all those things negated when you’re forced to wear costumes? Singer, songwriter, fashion plate Gary Benchley prepares to take the country.
You invest your aspirations and your savings account into recording an album, and then place it in someone else’s hands to finish, and perhaps ruin with a drum and bass remix.
Who would have guessed the rock dream involves lots of old-fashioned hard work? And why is it rarely a good idea to include a brass band on a rock album?
When you’re recording a few songs with friends, it’s OK to slack around. When you’re recording a few songs with very expensive engineers, you better not flub that G sharp.
Are the acoustics to blame when some executive’s fancy stereo makes your demo sound like mush, or was it really mush in the first place? Can mush rule the world?
When you know your band is the greatest that’s ever rocked, how do you convince the rest of the world? Are nine songs enough to change nine billion minds?
There’s no one like your immediate family to make your shortcomings into dinner conversation. Our favorite dreamer continues the saga by heading home to Albany, to confront a table of successful siblings.
Trusting your instincts is tough; trusting others’ instincts can be a lot harder. Chastened with a broken ankle, Benchley puts his faith in his roommate’s healing hands, and his band’s ideas for their future.
In the city of ambition, dreams are rarely packaged with paychecks, and everyone must do something to pay the bills—even if it doesn’t involve rock.
On the heels of sudden success—a good show, a potential manager—arrives doubt, fear, and the means for everything to fall apart.
How can a rock band plan for the unknown? What good are hours of practice and training when it only takes one bad microphone to ruin a show?
Ruts can happen to anyone, even 23-year-olds, and the best response is a brand-new gym membership—and a new girlfriend?
After a year of living in New York, you’ve acquired an apartment, a job, a rewarding hobby, and a meaningful, sexless relationship—all the tokens of an early middle age?
If a band plays a concert, and no one pays attention, can it still aspire to musical greatness? Is anything louder than the sound of no hands clapping?
Who has better lyrics, the GOP or New York’s rockers? And can a romantic relationship survive “hug therapy?”
What name is good enough for a band meant to rock the world, and must it reference Elvis Costello somehow?
Is love different when it's declared in the big apple, and if so, do you have to tell your co-workers about it?
It's hard to stay focused when your girlfriend ignores you, your roommates are openly intimate, and your father calls with some unexpected advice.
Trying to complete his indie-prog band as a model of diversity, Benchley runs into trouble when racial profiling turns out to be a less-than-sensitive method for recruiting a bass player.
Benchley continues to assemble his band, though finding the perfect hot chick drummer turns out to be harder than he anticipated. That, and keeping his roommate from starting a taxidermy collection.
Benchley begins to make his dreams come true: time to assemble the band. But the gap between buying a guitar and playing one proves wider than expected, and it may only be Depeche Mode who can save the day.
Aspiring rock star Gary Benchley learns it's not easy to date older women, considers giving up rock for branding, and, in a dark hour, composes the first rock tribute to Abu Ghraib.
Aspiring rock star Gary Benchley moves to the epicenter of hipsters' Brooklyn, gets to know his new neighborhood and roommates, enjoys burlesque, and accidentally attends an A-list blogging party.
Aspiring rock star Gary Benchley suffers Train--a mental state of anti-rock--and has to make a difficult decision in order to snag his own apartment. Luckily he has The Flaming Lips' Wayne Coyne to help him with advice.
In his long-anticipated second installment for TMN, aspiring rock star and Manhattanite Gary Benchley describes his search for a proper loft to rock in, the roommates who would love to see him fail, and a certain girl who falls for the Benchley charm.
In his first installment for TMN, aspiring rock star and Manhattanite Gary Benchley details his recent move from Albany, his new roommates in the city, and the difficulties of being a drummer in New York.