boon·dog·gle (bun'dō'g?l, -dog'?l) Informal n.

1. An unnecessary or wasteful project or activity.
1. A braided leather cord worn as a decoration especially by Boy Scouts.
2. A cord of braided leather, fabric, or plastic strips made by a child as a project to keep busy.
   
   
2. Wasting time and money on a fruitless pursuit. Often political.
   
   
3. Creating a tool or useful object out of cast off items such as a quilt.

Boondoggle was formed May 1994. The boys (Ben Brunson on guitar, Jeremy Monteleone on bass, Chuck Shannon on drums and D’Arcy Carter on Sax) had been jamming with other singers under the name Jabberwocky, when Marni Green showed up for a session. She knew Ben and Jeremy from classes at the University of Colorado. She brought song writing and editing skills to the band and loved Chuck’s weekly contribution of KB. Her ambitions to front a punk outfit meshed with D’Arcy’s vision of forming a free form band. The other guys were into the fantasy of becoming rock legends and so, the basement geeks became a true band.

Two weeks of sifting through the dictionary and Boondoggle was decided upon. We liked that it was listed as “pioneer slang” and the way the word kinda rolls off your tongue like a drunken hick rolling out of a hammock. Go ahead, give it a try….BOONDOGGLE.

Almost four months after deciding on a name, the band played it’s first show February 11th 1995. It was a sold out hormone fest. The band’s open door policy during rehearsals created a huge buzz around the college campus and from there, it was assumed Boondoggle was the shit.

Darren Soule joined the band on trumpet soon after that. He was a big local star due to his work in bands like Blow Hole and B+. The band had an official horn section and let me tell ya…ain’t nothin’ like a horn section to get folks’ attention.

A few months of playing the local bar scene generated enough revenue and interest to create an album. The band went into the studio right away and produced “Songs that Sell Beer.” The album is a hodgepodge of punk rants and catchy dance tunes. Anthems like “Going to McDonalds with an assault rifle” resided in discord next to sad ballads like “Awkward Birth.” It was great!

The release party for “Songs that Sell Beer” was so packed, the venue (Castaways in Manitou Springs, CO) had to shuttle people from parking lots all around the tiny mountain town. That got the attention of the brother of Capricorn record’s CEO, Scott Moore. Acting as A&R rep for the record company, Scott negotiated with Boondoggle over the course of the Spring of 1998 a supporting tour of Ugly Americans. If the band did well opening for them, Capricorn records would accept Boondoggle, ugly warts and all. I mean, Capricorn records! They had Cake on their label at that time…I mean Cake for ‘Christ sake! It was a very exciting time for all of us. The local paper did a four page spread on the band and everyone was sure Boondoggle was about to be the local equivalent of the little engine that could!

Unfortunately in real life, as in any good tragedy, dark forces step in just in time to make life really interesting for spectators and slightly shitty for Boondoggle.

On June 5,1998, less than a week before the band’s first opening gig for UA, a college student driving a new Nissan Pathfinder ran a red light smacking into the driver’s door of Marni’s 11 year old econo car. Without listing the broken bones, internal bleeding and surgeries that resulted in the collision, suffice to say, Capricorn records was not interested in a band with a seriously injured front woman (can’t blame ‘em…and they were nice enough to send a card and well wishes).

One year in and out of the hospital and the boys of the band hung in there…loyal to a fault. They kept writing music and jamming in the non-heated, shed behind the drummer’s house. Out of these recordings, a rock opera began to emerge. The boys would record their sessions and bring tapes to Marni. Jeremy was very specific that he wanted the opera to be about a circus bear. The neck injury, shoulder, wrist and duodenum surgeries coupled with daily physical therapy created a dark atmosphere around the band…what started as a tale of a circus bear, became a condemnation of politics and beliefs that keep every beast on the planet in some form of chains. One year after it began, “Ursa Minor” was completed and produced on a local stage complete with fire-breathing greeters and juggling clowns.

It was the night before the band embarked on their first tour. Boondoggle headed South 6 weeks after Marni’s last surgery. She performed the first three months on tour in a cast and spent a lot of time in her bunk, but the folks in the South were more than hospitable and not only did we find ourselves building a following, Marni was acting more like her old self.

8 months into constant touring (three months on, 5 days off), Ben Brunson, the band’s guitar player and founding member, decided the road was no life for him. He wanted be very supportive (which he has been…let’s the band keep using the bus even though he has a large financial investment in it), but at the same time needed his life back. He still hangs around and sits in occasionally.

A little before this, D’Arcy Carter’s 2nd marriage had imploded and since his ex-wife could not care for their daughter, D’Arcy had to make the painful decision to leave the band.

Two founding members out and a following that was only beginning to be built, the rest of the band decided to keep the name and recruit new members. We immediately called one of our favorite guitarists from tour. A wonderful punk kid named Charlie Brannon outta Knoxville. His group Johnny 5 was our hosts whenever we swung through town and made a great compliment to Boondoggle’s punky antics. Lately, Johnny 5 members were having their own commitment issues, so the promise of a bus ticket and help packing was all it took to lure Charlie to the mountains.

Charlie was young and used to rhythm guitar, so picking back up where we left off was not an option. It took about a year of playing local gigs to get our chops back and recreate the band’s sound to include Charlie’s ska-ta-licious tendencies (Marni loved him for it).

With Charlie, Jeremy and Marni into the new groove, the band had a lovely, if short revised hey day. A cute girl trombonist name Leah Aigner joined the outfit adding to our skank appeal (that’s skank as in ska, you perv). We started playing venues around the state and into New Mexico, recorded an EP and were awarded 7 melody music awards the last year of Charlie’s tenure with us. Unfortunately too much rock-n-roll lifestyle and Charlie’s youthful explorations into the underbelly of CO nightlife proved too much for him and in 2002, Charlie left the band.

After Charlie, Boondoggle held auditions and even worked with a new guitarist named Dan Owen for most of the rest of 2002, but our visions were to different and Dan left without even finishing the recording we’d begun in 2002. Leah was likewise disheartened and quit, breaking Marni’s heart (she was secretly happy at the thought of another girl on the tour bus to break the bunk funk).

Anxious to release something, the remaining members poured through hours of live recording from the 1999 and 2000 tours to create a life disc called “Southern Fried.” A fun recording, but not the full length album the band craved to follow up the now very old “Songs that Sell Beer.”

Then it happened……Ta da! Enter Chris Bocast….guitarist extraordinaire! A true professional, Chris brought a spare polish to the band that once again forced the sound to evolve. Having played on albums with bands such as The Mission U.K. and other professional recording acts, Chris had a good work ethic and the kind of experience Boondoggle needed to negotiate the studio with more technique. His gentle, supportive personality soothed the savage beast in Jeremy and motivated Chuck to try new beats. In fact….we’ve all stretched under Chris’ direction.

So here we are, a gang of 5…older, wiser, better at our craft than we’ve ever been before and still hoping….still hoping for the break that will make it possible to quit the obligatory day job.

Here’s to hope!