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We're Not Listening
My Bad Habit - Olli Lolli, pt. 3
Raimundo Asbury didn’t really have a headquarters for Not Listening Records. At first, he conducted everything from his home in Jacksonville, in a normal house in a normal suburb with his normal wife and son. Combined, everything about them was anything but normal; it was time for a change, and this meant a change of location.
Miami called to Rai. Maybe it was the long-ass drive it took to get there from north Florida, or maybe it was the way that the beaches never seemed to end. It was a tourist trap, definitely – just ask Olli and his goons and they’ll tell you that living there was a nightmare most of the time. There was a charm that appealed to the aging punk when he took a few real-estate tours down in SoFlo, and before long, he’d bought a huge house away from all of the city hubbub. Years of royalties and relative success had given him the cushion to buy such a house, and God knows it was perfect for the parties he ended up hosting.
Unbeknownst to him at first, Rai was moving to Olli Lolli and the Goons’ hometown. This was the place they knew by heart. Years from now they’d be proud of saying they hailed from a beach city, and Rai wasted no time in getting to know the city.
One of the ways he got to know Miami in the spring of 2006 was the Internet. That was when FlySpace was starting its monopoly over music, and of course, it was when any band who wanted to achieve anything had their music on the website. Olli Lolli and the Goons were no exception.
Despite being an old fart in a lot of ways, Rai knew how to work a computer, and he knew how to look up local bands on this whole “FlySpace” nonsense. It was a huge help that Olli had gotten a shit ton of hits from people in the area who saw his performances at whatever coffee shops would take him, not to mention the “Up and Coming Florida Bands” mention the group had received in a bulletin. There was a buzz of hype building already, and they hadn’t even hit their junior year.
Rai kept an open mind as he watched the few Cooltube videos pasted onto their FlySpace page. Olli was a scrawny kid with long hair and a headband, Joshie’s mop top with a shock of blonde covered most of his face, and Gabriel was a blur of smiles behind his drum kit. The music was solid, no doubt about it, and Olli had an optimistic nature that could be felt from behind his computer screen. Rai was sold almost instantly.
So he typed up a message and sent it to the band over FlySpace, unknowingly sending the band into a dizzy tizzy when they saw it the next day. Olli was a huge fan of Fire Motion and Violence Ladies and admired the crap out of Rai for seeming like such a genuinely cool guy – was this actually happening? At first, they had to really consider whether or not they were worthy enough to make the message real. Still, they replied anyway, and later on that day, they found something out – Rai had moved to Miami and was totally willing to meet up with the trio somewhere to talk things out even further.
The worst that could’ve happened would be that they all went to the restaurant he specified and they all got murdered. He could’ve stood them up, or it could’ve been a trap. Really, possible murder was worth the risk for these kids, and that’s what motivated them to dress in button-up polos and slacks to head to a tropical restaurant down the road for an informational dinner with Raimundo fucking Asbury.
They were overdressed. They noticed it from the second they met Rai at their table, the elder donning a floral shirt, swim trunks, flip flops and sunglasses. “Hey guys! What’s up?” he’d greeted, as if the four of them were just distant friends meeting up at a tourist trap restaurant.
Though the trio was nervous and starstruck, Rai talked them through everything and asked them plenty of questions, especially after discovering that none of them were willing to give up high school for a record deal. Online classes weren’t an option, not with their curriculum. That didn’t matter to the label’s owner, and instead, there were a few compromises. As they ate their meals, they rolled over preliminary plans of touring in the summertime, recording on weekends, and as much of a flexible schedule as possible.
The food was good, and the deal was even better, leaving a great taste in their mouths. Nothing was set in stone yet, especially without parental approval, but everything was practically settled; Olli Lolli and the Goons would be a part of Not Listening Records soon enough.
After consulting their folks, it was official. And before even talking about recording, the first issue they ran into was their name, which Rai had a slight issue with, and honestly, so did anybody who heard it.
“It’s jarring,” he’d pointed out. It didn’t flow. It was corny. Olli tried to fight him, but he was outnumbered – his bandmates agreed with Rai, and that was how “The Goons” got snipped from the name.
It was a bit of a wake-up call to Olli when Joshie had pointed out that he was pretty much the heart of the band anyway. It shook him to the core and it was what made him turn back to his friends and say, “No I’m not! You guys are just as big a part of this as I am!”
Gabriel and Joshie just shrugged. “I mean, it’s not like it really matters. Just accept it, dude,” Joshie had told him.
“But I don’t wanna be one of those butthole singers who always has the camera on them,” Olli retorted, a sick feeling in his stomach. “I hate when bands do that.”
Though the other two-thirds of the band insisted that the name change was more suitable than the previous name, Olli vowed to make sure that he would never do any band photoshoots alone, nor would he do any interviews without at least one other member. He still upholds this promise, and even if it’s led to more creepy fanfiction than any Goon can handle, all of them know it’s much better than letting the spotlight get to them.
Miami called to Rai. Maybe it was the long-ass drive it took to get there from north Florida, or maybe it was the way that the beaches never seemed to end. It was a tourist trap, definitely – just ask Olli and his goons and they’ll tell you that living there was a nightmare most of the time. There was a charm that appealed to the aging punk when he took a few real-estate tours down in SoFlo, and before long, he’d bought a huge house away from all of the city hubbub. Years of royalties and relative success had given him the cushion to buy such a house, and God knows it was perfect for the parties he ended up hosting.
Unbeknownst to him at first, Rai was moving to Olli Lolli and the Goons’ hometown. This was the place they knew by heart. Years from now they’d be proud of saying they hailed from a beach city, and Rai wasted no time in getting to know the city.
One of the ways he got to know Miami in the spring of 2006 was the Internet. That was when FlySpace was starting its monopoly over music, and of course, it was when any band who wanted to achieve anything had their music on the website. Olli Lolli and the Goons were no exception.
Despite being an old fart in a lot of ways, Rai knew how to work a computer, and he knew how to look up local bands on this whole “FlySpace” nonsense. It was a huge help that Olli had gotten a shit ton of hits from people in the area who saw his performances at whatever coffee shops would take him, not to mention the “Up and Coming Florida Bands” mention the group had received in a bulletin. There was a buzz of hype building already, and they hadn’t even hit their junior year.
Rai kept an open mind as he watched the few Cooltube videos pasted onto their FlySpace page. Olli was a scrawny kid with long hair and a headband, Joshie’s mop top with a shock of blonde covered most of his face, and Gabriel was a blur of smiles behind his drum kit. The music was solid, no doubt about it, and Olli had an optimistic nature that could be felt from behind his computer screen. Rai was sold almost instantly.
So he typed up a message and sent it to the band over FlySpace, unknowingly sending the band into a dizzy tizzy when they saw it the next day. Olli was a huge fan of Fire Motion and Violence Ladies and admired the crap out of Rai for seeming like such a genuinely cool guy – was this actually happening? At first, they had to really consider whether or not they were worthy enough to make the message real. Still, they replied anyway, and later on that day, they found something out – Rai had moved to Miami and was totally willing to meet up with the trio somewhere to talk things out even further.
The worst that could’ve happened would be that they all went to the restaurant he specified and they all got murdered. He could’ve stood them up, or it could’ve been a trap. Really, possible murder was worth the risk for these kids, and that’s what motivated them to dress in button-up polos and slacks to head to a tropical restaurant down the road for an informational dinner with Raimundo fucking Asbury.
They were overdressed. They noticed it from the second they met Rai at their table, the elder donning a floral shirt, swim trunks, flip flops and sunglasses. “Hey guys! What’s up?” he’d greeted, as if the four of them were just distant friends meeting up at a tourist trap restaurant.
Though the trio was nervous and starstruck, Rai talked them through everything and asked them plenty of questions, especially after discovering that none of them were willing to give up high school for a record deal. Online classes weren’t an option, not with their curriculum. That didn’t matter to the label’s owner, and instead, there were a few compromises. As they ate their meals, they rolled over preliminary plans of touring in the summertime, recording on weekends, and as much of a flexible schedule as possible.
The food was good, and the deal was even better, leaving a great taste in their mouths. Nothing was set in stone yet, especially without parental approval, but everything was practically settled; Olli Lolli and the Goons would be a part of Not Listening Records soon enough.
After consulting their folks, it was official. And before even talking about recording, the first issue they ran into was their name, which Rai had a slight issue with, and honestly, so did anybody who heard it.
“It’s jarring,” he’d pointed out. It didn’t flow. It was corny. Olli tried to fight him, but he was outnumbered – his bandmates agreed with Rai, and that was how “The Goons” got snipped from the name.
It was a bit of a wake-up call to Olli when Joshie had pointed out that he was pretty much the heart of the band anyway. It shook him to the core and it was what made him turn back to his friends and say, “No I’m not! You guys are just as big a part of this as I am!”
Gabriel and Joshie just shrugged. “I mean, it’s not like it really matters. Just accept it, dude,” Joshie had told him.
“But I don’t wanna be one of those butthole singers who always has the camera on them,” Olli retorted, a sick feeling in his stomach. “I hate when bands do that.”
Though the other two-thirds of the band insisted that the name change was more suitable than the previous name, Olli vowed to make sure that he would never do any band photoshoots alone, nor would he do any interviews without at least one other member. He still upholds this promise, and even if it’s led to more creepy fanfiction than any Goon can handle, all of them know it’s much better than letting the spotlight get to them.