Infant Band: A Fan Story

Rob is a superfan we met at PAX last year that has been kind enough to write great stories for for us. Since writing the article below, Rob has added another member to the family band!

In a month I’m going to have the brand new title of “Dad,” “Pops,” and possibly even “Fahthlor the Re-Diapernator.” While the past eight months have been full of preparations, baby showers, random home improvements, and translating Swedish furniture instruction manuals, I have also done some reflecting on the future mini-me that will be hatching from my wife person. I’ve decided that if anything, we’re growing a little Rock Band baby.

We’ve been married for almost a decade and she knows that for a good solid half of it, I’ve been hitting the plastic instruments and impressing millions of fake digital fans via Rock Band. She’s heard me attempt to belt out Rick Springfield and also curse my way through learning the Pro Drums. But still, I’m a man of dreams and for much time that dream has been to rock, virtually. Maybe I’m not the best player with the goldest of stars, but I’m always ready to make things happen. This of course, is in addition to my other hobbies like writing dumb/goofy stuff and growing lackluster facial hair.

So obviously I’m a prime candidate for fatherhood; a regular Steven Keaton or Danny Tanner.

While there is much fun to be had with this new trout-like creature that will grace my home for the next few months, I look forward to the later years where I will be able to hand him one of the plastic instruments that litter my basement “Rockatorium Subterranea.” It is at that time my little half-clone will become the ultimate band member armed with the obligatory denim jacket and headband.

This means my little guy will become some sort of “grand Rock Band experiment”, in which I hope that he takes the fun he has rocking out into the world. Maybe it’ll mean a desire to learn actual music instruments or at least how to load a roadie van to maximum capacity. I’m sure hearing tunes like “Simple Man” and “Jukebox Hero” will have their share of effects on his easily pliable and spongelike child brain.

Either way, I’m pretty excited to see what happens next and if anything, I’ll have a cool new RB buddy to rock with like a Hall to my Oates or a News to my Huey Lewis. Also, I’ll have a fallback plan if there ever is a need for him to play guitar to save the space time continuum at my high school prom. This kid thing could really pay off, if not for me but in that case for the entire universe. No pressure, little buddy.

But my mind wonders, what instrument will he pick? Will he go lead guitar and become a shredding fiend or some sort of Unplugged era acoustic mastermind? Maybe he’ll hit up the bass because all my musician friends are bass players and that’s just my luck. Perhaps he’ll hit up the drums (literally) because I will have programmed him with enough Muppet movies that he’ll need to channel his “inner Animal.” Either way he goes, he better not pick Keys or Vocals…I’ve already got dibs. Seriously.

They say that “children are our greatest resource” and until they find some way to harness their hyperactivity to fuel some sort of robot controlled future, I guess that means he’s going to be rocking with ol’ Pops. Welcome to Earth, little buddy.