How to tell your newborn about your old band

Babies. Newborns. Pink Acorns. Reverse Benjamin Buttons. Whatever you call them, they're all too real. As a new parent you're sure to face your fair share of ups and downs on the rollercoaster that is childrearing. As you live through the trials and travails of this exhilarating time always remember: "Though the days may be long, the time is short." A wise man said that. It was my friend Eric. He was talking about Coachella, but I think it applies here too.

One of the biggest challenges any parent faces in the early days is just how to tell your little bundle of joy about your old band. It's not easy, nobody likes to make another person feel responsible for their troubles, but the fact is if this little person hadn't come into your life Rah Rah Rivet would probably be gigging to this day. There certainly would have been fewer fights and less tension around the subject of who had their priorities straight and all that blah blah blah. Whatever. If Darren feels that trading in his Mustang for a touring van meant he was somehow "more into it" than you that's his deal. It's certainly not the baby's fault, not entirely. Still, if you were the baby wouldn't you want to know what had been sacrificed to make way for it, if only as an enduring emblem of parental love? I think you would, as early as possible.

First, make sure to tell the baby how awesome you guys were. Specifically, how you're sound was a mix of Sonic Youth (the early noisy stuff), coupled with CCR's melodic sensibilities and the loose jammy vibe of Pavement or The Band. Explain how your name was a play on the macho enthusiasm of nu-metal meatheads like Limp Bizkit and Korn. Don't forget to add that there was a lot of buzz around you guys, but you were holding out for the right deal (probably with Matador). Repeat this information until you sense that the baby is starting to get it, then it's time to play it some tracks. Show the baby the video Ernie posted on YouTube of that time you played the El Mo opening for The Jon Spencer Blues Explosion. Depending on when you have this little chat, your child may even be able to recognize your face on the screen as you execute another leg kick or jump off the monitor. Remember, it's never too early to start teaching your child that your characteristic on-stage antics were the focal point of the band's live show.

Tell it hilarious stories, like the time you did a mini tour out to Kitchener and Blake pissed in a coffee machine at the Student Union. Spare no detail about how you guys used to stay up until dawn listening to the first Suicide record or Forever Changes and talk about touring Europe some day. Above all talk about how being in the band made you feel alive and awake to the possibilities of the Universe, and as the apple of your eye drifts off to sleep, kiss it gently on the forehead and feel secure in the knowledge that whatever regrets you may have they were worth it because of this tiny, lovely person. Finally, as you leave the nursery whisper "I love you little one," and make a promise that, come what may, you're going to be just as great a parent as you were a guitarist (as if that's even fucking possible).