The Faculty Band Plays On

Out of Context

The club is filled with fog. There must be a machine plugged in behind some gear somewhere. It鈥檚 thick and goes a long way toward obscuring the screaming fans that surge around the band as they play.

On stage, guys with titles you don鈥檛 want to read in a story about a band are ripping it up: Cotten Seiler, associate professor of American studies, clutches his guitar and howls into the mic. Ed Webb, assistant professor of political science and international studies, pounding the keys, is hiding behind what Seiler calls his 鈥渂eautiful raven locks.鈥� And Shawn Bender, associate professor of East Asian studies, is perched at the drum kit, pounding savagely on his piccolo snare. Piccolo snare?

But before anyone realizes that there is no fog, that the band is in Webb鈥檚 living room, that the fans are friends and colleagues, casually watching while sipping drinks, an angry neighbor is at the door, and 鈥淧urple Rain鈥� will be the last song of the night for what is known only as the faculty band.

鈥淚t was 2009,鈥� says Bender. 鈥淓d had a party, and we played 鈥楶urple Rain.鈥� They brought me up for a guest spot. I was hitting the piccolo snare and the neighbor came and complained. From that moment on, we鈥檝e played together.鈥�

Separately, each member of the band has played music for ages. Bender has been at the drums since third grade. Webb had some training in violin, French horn and alto sax, but he doesn鈥檛 play any of them anymore. And Seiler, starting as a drummer, was in bands in college and switched to guitar in grad school, when he also started to sing.

Now they all can handle 鈥減retty much everything鈥� instrument-wise, and the songs they play together range from Joy Division鈥檚鈥淭ransmission鈥� to Rihanna鈥檚鈥淯mbrella鈥� (鈥淲e really need to find someone to sing that one,鈥� says Seiler).

But the band鈥檚 sweet spot, according to Bender, is the thin but fertile window from 1979 to 1981. 鈥淥ur Venn diagram is pretty close in terms of our ages, so we have nostalgia for the same period,鈥� he says. 鈥淎ny song that came out then, we know and love.鈥� Or almost any song.

鈥淭here鈥檚 a trans-Atlantic cultural divide at work,鈥� says Webb, who hails from England. 鈥淭he stuff they grew up listening to wasn鈥檛 exactly the stuff I grew up listening to.鈥� Bender and Seiler murmur, knowing where this is going, and Webb starts to laugh. 鈥淚 don鈥檛 know any Journey songs at all. But apparently everybody in this country knows everything they ever did.鈥�

So when someone is having a party in town and they want a band who doesn鈥檛 play Journey songs, the band might get called in, but it鈥檚 not the buzz of the crowd that keeps them coming back together.

鈥淲e just get together and play because we enjoy it,鈥� says Bender. 鈥淲e鈥檙e not really targeting performances. It鈥檚 more stress relief. To imagine having people pay money to hear us play鈥斺€�

鈥淥h, no,鈥� Seiler interrupts, laughing. 鈥淚鈥檇 like that. But we do revel in our amateurism.鈥� And that amateurism 鈥� would having an actual name for the band shatter the garage-band vibe the trio cultivates?

鈥淭o have a name is almost too formal in a way,鈥� Bender says. 鈥淎lthough it might be nice to have a name, maybe.鈥�

鈥淲hen we played Senior Club we sort of called ourselves Rogue EQ and the Unknown Unknowns,鈥� Webb says, noting that Erik Love, assistant professor of sociology and guest singer, and Marianna Doherty, LIS computing specialist and bassist, were part of that short-lived iteration. 鈥淏ut that was for just that one gig.鈥�

鈥淎nd we don鈥檛 want some professorial name, like the Bluebooks,鈥� Seiler adds.

鈥淕od!鈥� Webb exclaims.

鈥淚 was thinking of bad names for a college professor鈥檚 band,鈥� Seiler says. They all groan, and for now 鈥渢he faculty band鈥� will just have to suffice.

Watch the faculty band perform "Little Wing" in their garage-like rehearsal space:

Read more from the winter 2014 issue of Dickinson Magazine.

Published January 15, 2014

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The Faculty Band Plays On

Out of Context

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