IT IS SUNDAY.
It is late summer 1991.
We are in our bedroom, clutching our acoustic guitars. We are tense. Afraid. Not at our best. We will be playing live at the Neutral Ground Coffee House tonight. They have recently opened, and this will be their first open-mic night. Anyone can sign up to perform three songs of their choosing. We plan to be there for our first-ever live performance together as an acoustic duo. We will go by the same name as the filmmaking duo we created a few years ago, the Duplass Brothers. Doors open at seven P.M.
It is almost five-thirty now.
And we are still working on our set list.
JAY: So we definitely open with “Mr. Black and Mrs. Brown.”
(“Mr. Black and Mrs. Brown” is an original that Jay has written. It is about two people who cannot see past their differences to find each other and consummate their true love. It is indisputably our best original song. We only have three original songs.)
MARK: One hundred percent. Then maybe hit ’em with something a little crowd-pleasing. That they know and can sing along to.
(We look at the list of potential cover songs. Mind you, these are not ironic….)
“Sail On”—the Commodores
“A Horse with No Name”—America
“Stuck on You”—Lionel Richie
“Melissa”—the Allman Brothers Band
“Sara Smile”—Hall & Oates
JAY: How about “Stuck on You” right into “Sail On” to close?
MARK: I like the flow, but technically that’s back-to-back Lionel Richie.
JAY: Good point.
MARK: Maybe “Sail On” second, and then we close with “B-Song”?
(“B-Song” is another original.)
JAY: I just feel like “B-Song” is not our best.
(I wrote “B-Song,” and I am oddly unfazed by Jay’s criticism of it. Because Jay is right. I know it. And that there’s what it is. This lack of ego in our process was evident very early.)
JAY: We should close with our best song.
MARK: “Mr. Black and Mrs. Brown” is our best song.
JAY: We gotta open with that, though.
MARK: Do we? I mean, think about it. That high harmony you do on the “He could not prove himself” line is kinda the emotional peak of the entire set. If we open with that, we might be sliding downhill for the rest of the performance.
(I have accidentally broken open the thinking that was previously locked. Jay immediately recognizes it with an excited high five. Again, no ego that he was not able to break it open himself. He quickly moves “Mr. Black and Mrs. Brown” to the set-closer position.)
JAY: Great call. “Sail On” second. “Mr. Black and Mrs. Brown” to close. And…
(Jay thinks for a second. And an idea hits.)
JAY: What if we open with “Everybody’s Laughing.”
(I am taken aback. It is a brand-new song that I wrote on my own. It is about a lesbian who goes into the woods at night and has sex with a ghost of herself because she is ashamed of her sexuality and worried people will laugh at her at school if she comes out. This song, written by a straight white fourteen-year-old male, is quite insufferable in many ways despite its beautiful, naïve heart.)
MARK: Really?
JAY: Yeah. It’s our best after “Mr. Black and Mrs. Brown.”
MARK: We haven’t really worked out your part in it yet.
JAY: It’ll be awesome. We’ll wing it. Give it that “coming together in the moment” kinda energy.
(I accept Jay’s opinion and leadership implicitly. This is how it is done with the Duplass Brothers in 1991.)
MARK: Love it. Let’s do it.
JAY: Let’s do it.
After our initial interest in filmmaking, we also became deeply obsessed with music. We felt that there was a fifty-fifty chance we’d become filmmakers or musicians. We saved our money from working summers at our Uncle Danny’s family dry-cleaning business and bought ourselves two cheap acoustic guitars, a used drum kit, and a used four-track to record our demos. And tonight was turning out to be the culmination of all our hard work. Our first big gig. We arrived at the Neutral Ground at seven P.M., expecting a crowd snaking around the block.
Turned out we were the first ones to arrive. Also turned out that there were no microphones, PA system, or sound guy for tonight’s open mic. Also turned out that the “stage” was covered with boxes of herbal tea and enormous plastic containers of weird concentrated iced coffee.
We asked the one volunteer employee what was happening with open-mic night tonight. He shrugged and said he hadn’t heard anything about it. We checked the weekly entertainment mag. We had gotten the open-mic-night date correct. But it seemed that the Neutral Ground was still setting up shop and had somehow just forgotten about it.
We were crushed. Many of our friends were on their way to see us perform. We picked up our guitars and dragged ourselves back to our mom’s Ford Explorer. We hopped in, but we didn’t leave.
JAY: This sucks.
MARK: This fucking sucks.
JAY: It’s just…demoralizing.
MARK: Should we just put a sign on the door for our friends?
JAY: We can’t just leave.
MARK: I can’t go back in there. I’m…I think I’m depressed.
(Jay thinks this over. He looks at me and takes me in. I am already taller than him, but he will always be my older brother. Always the leader. And he can tell I need him right now.)
JAY: We’re not gonna play three songs for open-mic night tonight.
MARK: Dude, I know.
JAY: We’re gonna play a full set.
(There is something in the way Jay is looking at me now. I am deeply in tune with him. A surge is coming. It feels epic somehow.)
JAY: We’re going to clear that stage. We’re going to set up with no mics, no PA system. And when our friends show up, we’re gonna play every song we can come up with. Live. Raw. Just, like…us. Like…doing it.
(I am overcome with inspiration. I smile with pride and excitement. I immediately pull out the set list and start adding song after song. Jay chimes in. The order comes together in a whirlwind of pump and inspiration. When it is done, it is a list of eleven songs. Four originals. Seven covers.)
MARK: Are we doing this?
JAY: We are doing this!
We played our hearts out that night to a group of nine friends, one amazing older hippie dude named Les Jampole (who ended up being a bit of a musical mentor to us through the years of playing there), and an extremely disinterested volunteer employee. It was our first concert. And probably our best. Jay did what he had done so well for our entire relationship up to that point. He led me with the fearless confidence that was required of him. And he did it with a maturity and love way beyond his eighteen years. That night solidified for us both that, together, we might be able to accomplish anything. But perhaps more important, that Jay could always be counted on to lead us through the tough times. And that this brotherly dynamic was now fully cemented and would never change.
Two weeks later Jay left for college. Within a month of arriving, he had an emotional breakdown, and our brotherly dynamic completely changed.