Ben Eshbach - The Reluctant Performer: 1, 2, 3

ACT II: Nightclub Jitters

As the second act opens, THE PERFESSER has progressed to her second glass of merlot. MR. ESHBACH remains merlot-less, yet this does not stop THE PERFESSER from noting how much more attractive he seems. She edges slightly closer to him under the pretense of needing to hear him better, thanking the gods of journalism for this excellent cover for her true curiosity. He remains unfazed by her dazzling beauty and scintillating brain. He must be made of stone... um, anyway, on with the ACT:

Perfesser [buzzedly]: You said earlier that the only cover you ever played was Television's "Marquee Moon" at your first show. How come you haven't covered it again? It's one of my favorites!

Mr. Eshbach: Because we only have one guitar player now and you really need to have two guitar players to play that song.

Perfesser [disappointedly]: I thought there was some other underlying, weird reason for it.

Mr. Eshbach: We never played another cover tune in the last ten years.

Perfesser [perkily hoping for some great discovery]: You don't play any covers at all? Why not?

Mr. Eshbach: I don't understand why people play covers. Maybe it's to show people what their favorite songs are. I could feel good doing some covers, and I've wanted to, but that's not what we're there for. We're not a bar band and I don't think that we're an entertaining band. I don't think that The Sugarplastic is meant to entertain.

Perfesser [perplexedly]: What do you mean, "entertaining"?

Mr. Eshbach: As in showing up, unpacking our music and saying [in a rock star voice], "Okay everybody, you ready to have fun? Let's play some good music!" I've never seen it like that. For me, The Sugarplastic plays live because we're obliged to, because it's a cultural thing where you've got to show people what you can do live. It's like theater -- it's funny. [THE PERFESSER hastily scribbles, "Theatre of the Absurd -- now I get it!"] So I get up there and show them what we've done. It's almost like a book report: "This is what we did this summer; now go home."

Perfesser [secretly delighted at finding a potential hot-button issue because everyone knows that journalism is all about the button-pushing]: Is that why your sets are so short?

Mr. Eshbach: I just want to get off the stage.

Perfesser: You don't get any joy at all out of performing live.

Mr. Eshbach: No. None.

Perfesser [sympathetically]: Too bad. [THE PERFESSER sips more wine. MR. ESHBACH notes her fondness for the fruit of the vine and considers hiding the rest of the bottle she brought with her.]

Mr. Eshbach [anecdotally]: I had dinner with somebody from a band called A Perfect Circle once, and she was talking about how when she's in front of a crowd and on stage, there's nothing better than that. It's better than drugs, better than sex, or something -- I forget what she said, but she made it sound like it was the best thing in the world and I just wish I had that. I have the means and the opportunity to do what people love doing, and I loathe it.

Perfesser [pressing the issue in the touchy-feely style of latter-day Phil Donahue]: Is there no aspect of performing that you can key into for yourself to enjoy it?

Mr. Eshbach [completely unfazed by the Donahue-like tactics and saying in a neutral tone]: To impress people, sometimes I can. I can't even really do that when I'm playing my music.

Perfesser [moving into Geraldo Rivera territory]: I mean, just the fact that you're playing your music and that people are out there appreciating that -- it's not something you enjoy at all? [THE PERFESSER, completely puzzled with the enigma presented by MR. ESHBACH, downs the last of her merlot.]

Mr. Eshbach [introspectively]: I don't sense their appreciation--I sense their patience. Sometimes if everybody's starting to dance, I sense that they're enjoying what's going on, but I think that they would probably be dancing no matter who was up there playing. I'm probably wrong about that, and it's kind of flattering to think that I'm wrong about that.

Perfesser [abandoning all hope of locating an underlying strangeness to exploit]: Do you think it's a case of nerves or shyness?

Mr. Eshbach [anecdotally]: If I walk into a club and there's a band playing, it doesn't matter how bad they are, it kind of fills the club with a certain sort of spirit and everyone seems to be enjoying themselves. I look at the audience and to me, it seems like they're enjoying the band, and the band is just grooving away and I'm buying a beer. But when I'm up on stage, people could be looking at me, but it's too hurried or bothersome for me to think that anyone is having a good time. It's not the same vibe -- I can't sense that same sort of relaxed-ness in the audience. I don't think they're being critical -- a lot of times, I think they're just standing there because they paid to get in and they want to get their money's worth.

Perfesser [in the psychological fashion of a coked-up Siggie Freud]: You think maybe you're projecting a little bit?

Mr. Eshbach: I would say it was projecting if I felt that way when I went to a club, but I don't. Well, I did feel it once in Texas at a club in Austin for about ten seconds. [His eyes get a far away glow as nostalgia hits.] It was a really good ten seconds. I could tell that the people in the audience loved us and that was amazing.

Perfesser [analytically]: So the short sets are a sort of self-preservation; it gets you in and out as fast as possible and you fulfill your obligation. Also -- I remember we talked about this once -- the way you play songs on stage are never going to be the same way you record them.

Mr. Eshbach: I think it's the other way around. When we make a record, we never play those songs on stage that way because when we make a record, we overproduce it. We make it sound like there are more than three people playing and we can't duplicate that sound live, so we strip it down. We hardly ever play songs that are on the records because the records have a lot of elements that I think are important. I put them there because that's where they belong, and playing them without those elements is kind of embarrassing.

Perfesser: Let's talk about "7 x 7 x 7." Why'd you name your new concept after a drink? Do you even like 7&7s? If so, how come you didn't even offer me one? [She pouts.]

Mr. Eshbach [eyeing the mostly drained merlot bottle]: I'm told it's in bad taste to offer alcohol to a pedagogue, Perfesser. But that's neither here nor there. The concept presented itself when Tallboy Records asked if we'd be interested in releasing a single. We thought, "Why just one? Why not a whole bunch of 'em?" Seven was a nice round number (also being Yahweh's favorite), so we went with it: one LP-length set of songs one single at a time. Not to mention that seven cubed is 343. Don't mean to be bawdy, but hey.

Perfesser [eyebrows-archly]: Hey, indeed. Why only press 300 of each single? Did you count up all your fans or something?

Mr. Eshbach [modestly]: You flatter me Perfesser -- to think that I could count. I relied on Anna Borg (Tallboy's matriarch) for that number. It is, after all, a perfectly tender integer.

Perfesser [blinking]: Tender, indeed. Who chose the color scheme for the seven vinyl releases?

Mr. Eshbach: The packaging is largely the work of Celeste Moreno. Go on Friendster to see more about her (go ahead, do it!). She comes up with a cover design and then she and Anna mull over vinyl options. All of this is then handed to us for approval -- or gawking. We usually gawk.

Perfesser [thinking, "Have I got something for you to gawk at, sailor!"]: Why vinyl? Did you not want people to hear the songs ever? Will they be collected onto one CD in the future?

Mr. Eshbach [appeasingly -- and slightly alarmed]: Honestly, Perfesser, we chose vinyl because vinyl is quaint. The entire collection will be released on CD at the end of the run.

Perfesser: When will "Will" be released? Hey, trying saying that three times fast! [THE PERFESSER then starts slurring out "If a woodchuck could chuck wood"]

Mr. Eshbach [amused, yet slightly annoyed at having to wipe spittle off his sleeve]: That's a good question. "Will" will be released soon after it is finished. What's that you say? Not finished? There are 14 songs on the record and only about 15 seconds worth of vocal tracks that have not been recorded yet. Don't ask me to explain why. The answer is complicated and involves WMD.

Perfesser [perking up]: You know where the Women of Mammary Distention are?

There is a pause as the two conversationalists stare at each other, MR. ESHBACH waiting further questioning, and THE PERFESSER mentally calculating how much alcohol is left in the wine bottle in the kitchen. MR. ESHBACH then follows as THE PERFESSER's line of sight changes to the coveted object. Both rise and go toward the bottle. The curtain falls. End ACT II.

Next: Yes, I would drop sap on Barbara Walters, Perfesser.
1, 2, 3

Page last updated: September 30, 2003

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