Written by Jonathan Aryeh Wayne, November 13, 2018

There’s a music studio I discovered recently here in my neighborhood that might exist in an alternate universe. It is a music studio where at first glance might hold suspicious characters, as it was once the location of an underground Chinese massage parlor and is also situated underneath a butcher shop and next to a head shop. This place features no windows, no running water, and contains an abnormally high amount of music equipment. It’s got a PA system and space for guitar and bass players, drummers, keyboardists, performing artists, and other creative people. There is no sense of time in this music studio due to the lack of natural light, nor any semblance of reality of whether or not the world up above is still intact. The owner of this music studio will be referred to as Capricorn Snake, and other characters in this true story will be identified via their combined Western and Chinese Astrological Zodiac signs to minimize any risk of invasion of their privacy.

Capricorn Snake goes under multiple nicknames, is extremely tall, and seems to have short term memory loss due to copious ingestion of a drug called ketamine. The last time I saw this man, he ran up to me and gave me a hug while saying “I love you man”, while I was departing from his studio after spending 3 hours there playing music in an open jam session.

There’s an advertisement he created with the words “Learn Your Dream” that for some unknown reason sounds hilarious. When another friend I was playing music with named Scorpio Snake pointed out that phrase to me after one particular jam, the eruption of deep seeded laughter that ensued for the next 5 minutes was otherworldly. Together we reeled over, nearly falling down on the cold, wet sidewalk as our torsos spasmed in hysterical convulsions.

One evening, I was running late to another discreet music jam, and after I walked down the steps, through the underground corridor, and approached the front door, I heard a cachophony of loud music. As I stepped through the entrance, I saw perhaps 6 men playing various types of musical instruments. In the middle of the room a buddy I know named Leo Horse was soloing on the guitar for what seemed to last an eternity. His domineering guitar playing was slowly becoming excruciating as I sat on one of the vinyl couches for 45 minutes in silence waiting for the insane jam to end. When it finally did, my attempts to gain Capricorn Snake’s attention were futile, as the man was spaced out, waving to me on the other side of the room like I was a spectator. But here I was, with my electric guitar and pedalboard with 7 guitar effects pedals waiting for my turn to play.

Normally, I’m pretty aggressive and I wouldn’t have waited, but I was quite intimidated that evening walking into a room of 6 men, 2 of whom I didn’t know at all, after running an hour late because I was at my monthly poetry reading at Biddle’s Escape. The frustration of not feeling the confidence to play to my fullest abilities and having to defend myself for not increasing the volume of the sound on the amp, had taken a toll on my personal happiness that night. The worst part of that particular jam was dealing with a guitar-soloing megalomaniac who refused to back down and let another guitar player step in and make himself be heard. The spaced out and smiling Capricorn Snake was seemingly oblivious to the energy in the room as he zoned out on a second pair of drums, completely out of sync with our friend Capricorn Goat on the main kit. Later, the unknown man on the bass guitar cranked up the amp and obliterated whatever satisfaction was left in that room. Meanwhile, Scorpio Snake got on the acoustic guitar and started strumming Creedence Clearwater songs while Leo Horse snickered in cruel amusement at my frustration.

In a more recent get together, I accidentally arrived at Capricorn Snake’s music studio at least an hour before our scheduled jam. I sat down on one of the plush sofas awaiting for Capricorn Snake to hook up the Korg Minilogue keyboard he had brought for me to play. Capricorn Goat was quietly sitting in the corner of the room gently playing the main drum kit with brush sticks. Before I knew it, I heard babblings between Capricorn Snake and Capricorn Goat about “echo chambers” and sound frequencies, as I, the other Leo Horse sat on my cotton throne watching these two guys yapping to one another for what seemed to last over half an hour. Meanwhile, a shady looking character with a beard (or also known as the “Sound Man”) was walking around in and out of Capricorn Snake’s other private rooms. Finally, 40 minutes later, the PA system was turned on and a cable was given for me to plug into the synthesizer.

“Holy hell, its about time!”, I thought to myself.

Not maybe 30 seconds later, in walks vocalist and drummer Pisces Pig and his brother to join the pair of Capricorns, Scorpio Snake and myself. As I watched Capricorn Snake get on the acoustic guitar and stand in front of the drummer playing his cover songs, I went into my own universe and played on the keyboard for the next 3 hours, losing track of time and space. I overheard mumblings about me outside the door, but I was not distracted enough to stop playing.

Several weeks beforehand, Capricorn Snake was hosting a Halloween party in the underground catacombs next to his studio. Along with Pisces Pig, Capricorn Goat, and Scorpio Snake, we decided to explore what was behind a partially hidden door that led to an emergency exit. After opening the mysterious door, we were greeted with a musty, ancient aroma while standing in pitch black darkness. With my flashlight on via a smartphone app, we saw a concrete ramp next to some old steps lead to another strange door directly ahead. After we opened the door, some old, red metal double doors was visible to the left and another long scary corridor that led to a steep flight of cement stairs was directly ahead. Above us was a conveyor belt with old hooks on a rail or track that led up the stairs to the exit door. We followed the ancient track system and opened the door to reveal the back exit that was once the location of a crude, old slaughterhouse. Perhaps back in the early 20th century, animals were slaughtered outside and then hooked onto the conveyor belt that led directly down through those double red doors and into the butcher shop that has stood the test of time. Was this where learning your dream begins and ends? Or was there something more that we didn’t know?

As we walked back down the steps and into Capricorn Snake’s lair, we shined our lights on the cement walls and discovered on the ground some old dusty newspapers and a few ancient recordable compact discs from decades ago. Adjacent to the historical finds was a vintage mercantile scale that was used to weigh chopped animal meat. Were the ghosts of chickens, turkeys, ducks and other fowl still roaming this dark labyrinthe? Or perhaps future musicians were taken back to this godforsaken tomb to be tortured and enslaved for deranged old butchers from somewhere deep in Bulgaria.

Along with the other boys, we had to leave immediately, because we were in danger of joining Capricorn Snake who was already somewhere deep into the k-hole. I opened a plastic bottle of water and grabbed my fedora hat and bolted up the stairs onto the main street. I might not have learned my dream just yet, but I sure didn’t dream of what I had just learned!