The True Story Of The Greatest Band Ever:


by J.C. Maçek III


And now you know… The rest of the Story!


The greatest band in the history of the world actually predates recorded time by a few thousand years. It was around 35,000 BC, and four Neanderthal nobodies happened to cross paths under the shelter of an outcropping of a glacier. There was Og, Eegah, Randy, and the grandparent of the inventor of the wheel, whose name, interestingly enough, was also Wheel. Og was carrying a bag of bones, Randy a backpack load of six bows without arrows, Eegah, a set of rocks and gemstones and Wheel, a Deer Skin pulled tight around a couple of stretched branches. As all four bundles were completely useless, all four Cave people were at this location simply to throw away some garbage.

At that point Wheel, not having the inventive spirit of his descendant, slipped on some ice and slid into Og, Eegah and Randy with an awkward thud. Of course, all of the bundles fell with a crash, a most, most musical crash that caused all eight of their eyes to widen beneath their simian brows. The rocks and Gemstones made a fantastic cacophonous rhythm, the Deer Skin produced quite a boom, the bones chimed superbly and the bows, accidentally strummed in the fray, produced a beautiful stringed accompaniment. Having never heard music before, all four Cretaceous Kids, slowly crept to their respective baggage and attempted to replicate the sound.

They succeeded, Wheel borrowed a long bone and beat the deer skin in time while Og carefully laid the rest of his bones out across his legs and tapped them in a beautiful collection of tonal pitches. Randy's rocks allowed for a lovely chiming, the hollow geodes provided the Bass, and Eegah held each hunting bow close to her frame and strummed for all she was worth. Due to cosmic coincidences, synergy and out and out serendipity, each combined movement was so beautiful none of the four dared stop. And when Eegah had the idea to finally open her mouth and use her voice as the birds in the sky did, Randy, Og and Wheel immediately followed suit, creating a soaring, musical and operatically harmonized preverbal song that, if heard today, would surely be enough to end all wars and unite mankind in an ageless polyphonic peace.

The birds, the plants, the animals around them all stopped and melted into one wall of audience, each loving the sounds more than anything they had ever heard before. A Lion and a Lamb stopped chasing each other and mated instead. A turtle actually cried. Though the band had no name (such concepts as bands or group names was far too abstract for the hairy historicals) they were surely the greatest musical pioneers of our Earth. Surely, should this continue, Civilization would at last be born!

Unfortunately, at that very moment, a swift footed mastodon, being chased by a trio of angry, hungry Saber-toothed Tigers, the four of whom had been sadly deafened by the blast of a volcano just 817 seconds before, came upon these, the first musicians, and trampled them to death. Just then the overhanging glacier cracked, thawed, and resolved itself into an avalanche to cover all eight beings beneath it.

The birds, the plants, the animals, all broken from their trance began to get the hell out of there, which was good, because just at that moment an alien flying saucer from the planet Irony completed its crashing descent from a space battle that occurred far, far overhead and smashed right onto that very spot, vaporizing what was left of the musicians and their accidental killers in a fireball of hydrogen, rocket fuel and monster guts. Then the rest of the glacier covered THAT up.

To make matters even worse, nature, ever a wicked and vengeful mistress, decided that it was high time the ice age had ended, and so the entire area melted and became one with the sea, and the molecules that once made up the four greatest musicians yet born on Earth were cycled and recycled throughout thousands of years, until, due to a very similar form of serendipitous coincidental synergy, every piece of them ended up in a swimming pool in Nagasaki, Japan somewhere around August 9, 1945, when at last they were blown from existence by whitey.

Luckily, the 1970's were less than three decades away, and Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon was at last released making Pink Floyd officially the second best band in history. Well, third, because Two years earlier the Who released Who's Next.

So, as you travel through this thing we called life, skating on the thin ice of this teenage wasteland, you will hear many arguments on what group actually constituted the best band in history. Many will say Pink Floyd, or the Beatles. Many will say The Who or the Rolling Stones. Many will tell you the Pixies, or even the Bay City Rollers. But you will be armed with the knowledge of that one prehistoric accident that produced the most literally progressive music of all time, and you'll wow all your friends with the regaled tale of Eegah, Og, Randy and Wheel and their indescribably perfect music that, if replicated, could unite the world like a Christmastime Coca-Cola commercial. And when they ask you how you know all this... you just tell them J.C. told you.

J.C. Maçek III cares about Music, History, Music History and the Historical Muses of Prehistoric Historic Histrionics. This true story (for all we know) was created for your amusement, awe and education!
Good Eon, and God Bless!

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