by Billy Boloby

The following is an e-mail exchange between Billy Boloby and a Weekly World News reader following the publication’s Sept. 3, 2002 article about Billy Boloby (the band). The story details how the four band members met at a South Florida summer camp for physically deformed youths, using their love of music to overcome adversity and follow their dreams…

To the band(or whoever reads this),

Is this the same Billy Boloby that was recently featured in the Weekly World News as a band of deformed people? I ran across the article and was intrigued enough to look you up here on the www. I noticed the same names and some similarities in the photos, only the website pictures don't seem to show any deformities. Is it simply a matter of camera angles or did the publication take your name and completely make up a story around it (as they have been known to do--but don't tell anyone I said that)? An answer would be greatly appreciated.
kara

Hi Kara,
Yes we were featured in the WWN as being deformed. We have since been "fixed" by a very good doctor, and a follow-up story may be in the works for an upcoming edition. However, Herman's legs still go backward, as he did not want surgery.
Thanks for writing,
Boloby

Billy,
"Fixed,” really? That's AMAZING! I think you should let the world know about your amazing doctor, I hope he/she did a better job on you guys than the WWN did on your pictures--not that I'm implying the pictures were doctored or anything. So, how can I get a hold of one of your cds?
Kara

• • •

I don’t know how, but 2002 seems like it was just yesterday and simultaneously a whole lifetime ago. Memories of the now-defunct band that bore my name are still fresh in my mind, yet even my most recent group, the Pots ‘N’ Pans, seems like ancient history. In a sense, this is true. After PNP officially disbanded at the end of 2008, I took up residency at the musical halfway house known as the Hiatus Center. Though, I’ve been here before, in 1999, following the long-needed demise of the Mute-Ants, the band I’m most known for but least proud of. So I took a timeout to regroup and gather my creative bearings after having compromised so much for so many years.

But a funny thing happened on the way to the music store. I got a phone call from my doctor, informing me I had extremely high liver enzymes. Before I knew it, three months had gone by and I had undergone more diagnostic tests than I knew existed. Two things were discovered: an autoimmune disease that narrowed my bile ducts and was scarring my liver, and a latent form of Crohn’s disease, meaning the underlying signs were there, but not the overt symptoms. For almost 10 years, I managed to keep it that way. But in early 2009, my inner workings started unraveling. Although my liver function tests have actually improved, Mr. Crohn began making his presence known. It wasn’t long before he went from being an occasional guest to a permanent roommate. And he doesn’t like loud music. But by the time he had any power to ruin my musical activities, they were already over.

PNP’s demise wasn’t as much a breakup as it was a gradual dissolution. Despite having amassed a decent local following and press attention in our year and a half together (not an easy task for punk bands in South Florida), our musical differences and work ethics came to a head in the studio, resulting in a 10-song album that was barely finished and never released. Perhaps it was an appropriate and fitting end for a band that never really defined itself — at least not in the way some of my previous bands did. Pots ‘N’ Pans was already a band before I joined, so it was never mine to begin with. The writing had been on the wall the whole time, but I just refused to look at it.

I had high hopes when I joined the band in early 2007. The other members were film students and shared my interest in theatrics, the key ingredient to Billy Boloby the band. However, when that band broke up in 2004, it was followed by the entirely untheatrical Bittercups, a group I fronted until 2006, when I took a break to focus on my short-lived stint as a full-time music journalist, working as music editor for the local Village Voice Media publication. Without getting into detail about how much I hated that job, I’ll just say that by the time I quit, all I could think of was starting a new band. The only problem was, every musician I knew was already in a band. So when this new band I saw called Pots ‘N’ Pans surprised me with their sound (despite such a clunky name), I wasted no time talking with them after their set. And when I heard the bassist mention that they were looking for a fourth member — someone to front the group — I knew what my plans were for the foreseeable future.

Three weeks later, we were back at the same venue, where I first saw PNP, only now I was in the group. It was like 2002 again — stupid stage antics and a bemused audience wondering what the hell was going on. Indeed, it was time for my “hazing,” and I’m being quite literal. For my initiation into PNP, the group formed a fraternity, Alpha Smelta Delta. They blindfolded me, threw me in the trunk of a car and walked me onto the stage, not telling me where I was until I found out by surprise. I had to “prove” to the band that I was worthy of being their frontman. Though, it was really the audience I had to impress — to prove that my new band wasn’t a second-rate Billy Boloby. Like any first show, it had its problems (wardrobe malfunction, annoying drunks). But it set the stage for plenty of shenanigans to follow. At this point, I will refer you to our “documentary” (read: film class project) for more information:

Documentary Part 1

Documentary Part 2

And just like that, PNP was over, meeting the same early extinction as all my other bands. With one big difference, of course. I don’t feel comfortable using the word never when contemplating the possibility of future musical endeavors. But it’s not right to merely say I’m on hiatus. It could very well be the end, and I’m OK with that. As of this writing, I have no desire to be in a band. After PNP disbanded, I struggled for months to find something new I could focus my creative energies on. And to be honest, I was going a bit nuts, frantically grasping at every idea I could think of. I could be a one-man-band, I thought. So I went out and bought an electric-acoustic guitar, practiced a routine, decided it sucked and gave up. I later sold the guitar. Then, I wanted to be a video blogger and followed the same routine as before (bought a camera, developed a concept, decided it sucked and sold the camera). Finally, I figured I could fall back on my writing and start a blog. Once again, I went through the motions and ultimately gave up.

At this point, in early 2009, I was feeling pretty loser-ish. But as I’m not a self-pitying teenager, I knew the problem wasn’t me, but my situation. It obviously wasn’t the right time to start a new project, and trying to force a creative spark to ignite is always the wrong way to go about it. So I stopped trying. Now, almost a year and countless Crohn’s flare-ups later, I can say with absolute certainty that it was the best thing I could have done. When I think of all the bad decisions I’ve made over the years and compare them to the good ones, or even the moments when I seem to have been “lucky,” there’s a definite pattern, a single element that runs common throughout. Bad things always happened when I made decisions in haste, doing what I thought I was supposed to based on preconceived ideas and because I was in a hurry. For now, I’ll just wait until the next opportunity presents itself and enjoy the time off.

ADDENDUM

Below is a clip of the PNP song “One Side,” one of the 10 unreleased tracks. It was previously a Bittercups song, though I like this version best. Lyrically, it pretty much sums up my attitude toward new music and has served as a conscious reminder of what I don’t want to be, sort of a way to keep me in check. One thing I learned over the years of having alternated between bands that were theatrical and those that just played songs, is the importance of balance. The notion that bands that dabble in theatrics are “gimmicky” and those that don’t are somehow more “real” is total bunk. Conversely, being a serious songwriter doesn’t have to make for a boring band. This was an issue I struggled with for years. And while I had a basic understanding of the need for balance, it was always difficult for me to make that a reality. My goal with the Pots ‘N’ Pans was to write songs that meant something to me as well as those that just made me laugh. And I wanted the listener to experience the same thing, to share an idea and a few laughs. But then, just like that, PNP went bye-bye, and I never got a chance to share anything. So consider this my final attempt to salvage something out of these recordings. Anyone interested in getting a free download of the entire album, as well as our previous EP (and, if you ask nicely, a bunch of other freebies from my previous bands), shoot me an e-mail at billyboloby@yahoo.com.

“One Side”

"Checkout Line"

"No Room"

 

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