the useless sig figs
by Andy Betz
I am a band that does not exist. With no musical ability, I wrote songs for the singers never to sing. I am working to book performances that will never occur. In essence, I am the sole proprietor of a quartet of nothing named, “The Useless Sig Figs” (USF for short).
How did this happen? Why did this happen?
I am a test-prep tutor with a myriad of students each giving voice to details of subjects they find either interesting or not.
Last week, Ted (one such student) declared his dismay in ever reliving the details of what he called, “useless sig figs”.
Within 1.09462 seconds, an idea was born.
Imagine a group never seen, never to interview or tour. Their songs have legs, possibly achieving small dominion in coffee shops and venues unknown. USF will appear when the social media influencers are absent, always falling one or two degrees of separation from the certain future notoriety that is their destiny.
The band does have songs, courtesy of moi. Their first hit that no one will ever hear is, a cover of the Monkees hit, “Look Out (Here Comes Tomorrow)” covered as a protest song for a budding crowd of college students that never appeared to hear it never played. Had someone actually paid notice to the very first USF song, “The Protest Song”, they would have heard,
Freedom. Oh how I love it
Use it. All of the time.
Mandates. Fast track to dictates.
Won’t eat up this slime.
DC. Thinks we can’t listen.
Too dumb. Slow in the mind.
Now look. Time to make missing.
Dictators we find.
Well, I had all kinds of choices.
New laws, offer not one.
Right now, we’ll raise our voices.
Oh how we know to act out in unison.
Incumbents. Always a problem.
Show up. Then start to recline.
Right now. We must remove them.
Because they won’t resign.
Progressives. New word for Marxists.
Lying. About ultimate goal.
Taxes. Their tool for silence.
It’s all about control.
Well, you can, pass your laws all day.
But I, will fight every one.
Then I, will show up on vote day.
Pack up. Go home. You’ve just been jettisoned.
I wrote “The Protest Song” in the hopes that this generation would rally against the growing power of government. The song never saw the light of day because the lead singer of USF declined that summer’s engagements I didn’t book to explore his own musical style he never had.
With the former political season past, the weave holding The Useless Sig Figs together became worn. Constant arguments never occurred, but should have, only to focus my creative ideas toward more productive results.
By late November, I planned for the addition of a new lead singer, a tall, sultry blonde with an equally sultry voice to remake USF into a house band perfect for the hotels and small clubs that dotted the travel circuit. Her backstory contained a number of failures and disappointments so common to mid 30’s singers of the time. I gave her the name, Veronica, and kept the details to a minimum. She was to be the spark to revitalize a dismal start to an imaginary band.
The other members complained bitterly as fictional people are prone to do. But, I held my ground and produced the best break-up song, only Miss Veronica could deliver. It spoke of loss and love, heartbreak and heartache, wrapped in the bittersweet melancholy only a poorly lit tavern could offer. I titled the song, “You’re Losing Me” and included only a few verses so as not to spoil the dreams of other mysterious Miss Veronicas desiring similar stardom from humble and fabricated origins.
At the piano, I watch dust collect on framed memories of our past
The time between your visits is the time that grows to vast
I take the steps that we should take to keep this house our home
But I dry the tears, from my heartbreak, when I find myself alone
I know you hear, but cannot listen
I know you look, and will not see
If you think that I am losing you
Then you are really losing me
My old life should not continue; my new life must now begin
I know you know me less than I know you. It’s a fact you shouldn’t spin
When I’m no longer part of your future and you’re no longer part of mine
You will awaken to the reality, your good enough was never my fine
So wonder what might have been
Instead of what came to be
Then experience the pain of lonely
Because you’re really losing me
The worst mistake you ever made placed me on a to-do list
The longest night we spent apart was not my birthday wish
You should have been my closest friend through all my stormy nights
You never had a hand to lend, except during our fights
Now, ask yourself, did you reap the price you paid?
Or just the entrance fee?
Then think real hard
Did I lose you or did you lose me?
The band took a vote and unanimously decided to keep Veronica as the USF lead singer. I recounted the votes and amended the decision. Miss Veronica would stay on until The Useless Sig Figs reinvented themselves into something more profitable, something less evanescent.
That reorganization came sooner than later with the release of “Water Line Up”, another catchy tune with an island beat reminiscent of 80’s cover bands covering previous chart toppers as a springboard to future fame. By this time, Miss Veronica faded from my memory with neither fanfare nor a paycheck. Instead, I created twin brothers from Aruba. They fought in the rehearsals that did not occur. They fought on the bus that never moved. They even fought for the same woman that did not exist. All of this I tolerated as long as both fought the success of the song. In that one regard, they succeeded brilliantly.
My lady was my best friend. None could be sweeter
She came with a smile. Every time I greet her
She’s good with a knife. So I never beat her
But, she hates island life. Says it just depletes her
So I find a better job. Now I take the Prozac
My work will soon kill me. By stroke or cardiac
I hate my long work days. All pull and no slack
So I quit the next day. My tub is my new shack
Water line up, I be smokin’
Water line down, I be strokin’
All alone, so there’s no pokin’
Seriously, I’m not jokin’
The rent is due on Monday. And I’m not so rich
I sent the check on Sunday. To the landlord bitch
I post it with no stamp. So I made the switch
Postman told her Tuesday. New he is her snitch
The sun shines all day. From August to August
I moved in with my brother. The only man I trust
His lady is a Beauty. Now I have the lust
My shorts are gettin’ tighter. To the tub I must
Water line up, I be smokin’
Water line down, I be strokin’
Think’ bout Beauty, so there’s no pokin’
Seriously, I’m not jokin’
Another day goes by. From the tickin’ of the clock
Another year slips by. From the growth of my dreadlocks
Another chance with Beauty. Can this door be locked?
Tubbin’ ain’t just bathin’ and roosters ain’t just cocks
Water line up, I be tokin’
Water line down, she be strokin’
Here with Beauty, so lots of pokin’
But serious man, I’m not jokin’
The brothers fought so much, they (permanently) delayed the release of the song. To think that pronunciation of the words August (standard) and August (rhymes with trust) would be so trivial to the big picture achievement of actually hearing singers sing and band members play, that this singularity would not become as violent as it did.
Within a week, the brothers were gone and USF became a trio. This time, re-imagined as avant-garde, hipper than hipsters, and still as transparent as glass.
Not to be pigeon-holed, the next song for The Useless Sig Figs uses palindromic literary devices to state and restate each line of the newest a cappella tune, “Too Hot to Hoot”.
Too Hot to Hoot
Too Hot to Hoot
Too Hot to Hoot
Tenet
Terret
Tut-Tut
Testset
Desserts I stressed
Refer
Rotor
Radar
Redder
Red Rum, Sir is murder
Noel saw I was Leon
Norma is as selfless as I am, Ron
No lemons, no melons
No word, no bond – Row on
Gag
Gig
Gug
Gog
Go hang a salami, I’m a lasagna hog
Sagas
Sexes
Solos
Stats
Star comedy by Democrats
Tuna nut
Tsetse’s Test
Dennis Sinned
Stacked cats
See, few owe fees
Nurses run
We panic in a pew
Now I won
Too Hot to Hoot
Too Hot to Hoot
Too Hot to Hoot
Unfortunately, USF suffered from the pans of critics who never wrote critiques, but everyone knew they would have panned USF if they had written their critiques and the obvious reference to the drummer, Dennis, and his constant struggles with frequent trips to the confessional.
For these, and no other imaginary reasons, The Useless Sig Figs had to break up, try to find themselves, and experiment with bath salts and movie candies (Goobers and Raisinets being particular favorites), before (I decided) they should triumphantly return from their self-imposed hiatus to record their final work, “The First Verse of the Worst Nurse Curse”. The song is dedicated to the memory of Edgar Allen Poe and the perpetual cycle of Americans and their inability to convert English to metric when delivering doses of medicine.
Once upon an ER dreary, while in pain, weak, and weary
With intrusive IV bags galore
As I suffered, never napping, suddenly I beheld a sapping
As is someone wickedly tapping, tapping from my inner core
“I am here to help”, she uttered; mapping each and every sore
“Only this and nothing more”
Distinctly I distrusted, her motives, left me disgusted
And I knew she was snapping the locks that kept me trapping
To the gurney on the nurse’s floor
So I struggled, like a fish a-flapping
With my hopes, hopes of slapping, this nurse of evil lore
“I want to escape”, I stuttered; mapping each and every door
“Only this and nothing more”
But she persisted, never wavered
Syringe in hand, quite un-favored
Pushed the dose, until I snored
Slumber came light, duration lacking
Her math skills weak, calculations slacking
I feigned sleep and nothing more
Presently my will grew stronger
Deliberating then no longer
Gathering strength from my inner core
I viewed the pills she was capping
At the bit, I was chapping
To this Spawn of Satan, I implore
“That dose will kill a rhino!” I pronounced
“Leave me be!”, and please renounce
Any idea your help I adore
“You should be fired!” I denounced
“You should be beaten and abruptly trounced!”
“At the very least; a complete censor”
“All of this and nothing more”
Rising from my gurney, walking reverse
A twinkling longer would necessitate a Hearse
I exited as bewildered as before
My tongue was caustic, my words were terse
This is the first verse of the worst nurse curse
To record a second, Nevermore!
Unfortunately for the band that never was, someone actually heard them never sing this song in all its rap regalia, and decided to sue for copyright infringement (class action) on behalf of catfished upright bipedal hominins everywhere.
Just the threat was enough to abandon the reunion tour and settle out of court for damages yet unspecified.
Thus, in the span of one year, the greatest band than never was, The Useless Sig Figs, rose from obscurity only to fall from grace.
And it was all because of me.
Long live the band that never was.
Love live The Useless Sig Figs!
Photo of Andy Betz
BIO: Andy Betz has tutored and taught in excess of 41 years, lives in 1974, and has been married for 33 years. His works are found everywhere a search engine operates.