vee first met Deej, the Comeback Kid, on a lonely street corner in middle America. The Kid was playing guitar like a champion to no one in particular. When asked who he was playing for, he replied that his audience was whoever cared to listen -- today it was the wind and the mourning dove. In the simple genius of the statement, vee recognized a brother in arms.
Well... the rest, as they say, is history. The Kid threw his guitar in the backseat of vee's car and skipped town; hopping a ride to join the revolution. They've been friends ever since. Now, he takes the point on bass guitar, mesmerizing millions as he goes.
And so together, they set out to see the world -- after all, it is a big place. From town to town they went, spreading the music to all within earshot. But as you'll surely find, if you haven't already, there are those in this land who tremble at the prospect of revolution, however benevolent. After one particularly close run-in with a shot-gun toting ostrich rancher, they fled to the safety of the highways. It was on one such rain-soaked stretch of blacktop that they first discovered a little town called Chicago. Fresh into town and waiting for the clouds to part, they began walking the sidewalks.
Paying no heed to their surroundings instinct took them into the heart of the housing projects. Here the expected stereotypes deserted them, and instead they found a people open to the revolution, gaining many an ally. From one fourth story window, they heard the mournful lament of a cello drifting down the wrought iron and lampposts. Following the sound to its source, they came upon Professor Dre teaching Bach's Suite Number 3 to a gaggle of eager, young, would-be soloists. These homeless children were in awe. vee and Deej were in awe. They knew at once that such lush instrumentation had a place in the revolution. Explaining themselves and their mission, vee device grew to three in number.
Pleased by the new sound, vee and Deej didn't expect to find another new addition so quickly. But once you're running that invisible track of good fortune, good things tend to come your way. Striking out from the Windy City, the three crossed the border into that friendly land to the north. Hoping to take the revolution international, they figured Canada was as good a place as any to start. Things looked bleak for a time when an overeager borderguard stopped them for an interview of sorts. While they were sitting there in the guardshack, waiting to explain themselves, they noticed another wayward traveler who'd been detained. This fellow was reading Dostoevsky. Smiling at a literary spirit, vee ventured conversation, and asked him for his life story. And so he began: "I was born at the North Pole. My mother was a researcher and my father an Inuit. One day When I was five, my parents disappeared, so I left the igloo and went for a walk in the land of eternal winter. I happened to meet up with some polar bears nice enough to lead me to the nearest fishing village. There I was adopted by an elderly couple. Grandfather taught me to play his seal string mandolin. But as I grew older, I felt the urge to roam. I wanted music. To play it. Listen to it. Anything. But all they ever played in the village was the blues. I grew weary of the same sound, packed up my mandolin, thanked my foster parents for their love and bid them a tearful goodbye. And so here I am..." And that's how the golden-fingered, Mando-Midas known as G-Man came to the revolution.
Months passed. They toured the nation. They recorded an album. And on a dark and stormy night by the banks of Lake Champlain, they made the acquaintance of Fenn. High up in a snowy pine they found her. Surrounded by rolling hills and striped maple, she was keeping tabs on the local lynx population. She knew their names; she knew every tree and stump. But still, a sadness existed in her heart. She wanted to sing, but when monitoring such bashful creatures, it is best to observe the silence seeping from the leafless forest. "Why don't you come down and play with us?" said Deej. "You know, the world would love to hear your song." Slowly climbing down, she made her way back through the woods to her cabin without saying a word. She disappeared inside, plucked her banjo from the syrup storage room, grabbed her bag, and joined the revolution. And so it was proven that four plus one equal much more than five.
Again, as they are wont to do, months passed. The Cellonator4000 whirred to life. Proclaiming himself &roid, this overgrown mecha-man began to play the double bass like a cello. Kept running with the proprietary VD operating system and factory delivered with an installation of GreatComposer v2.0, it was the dawn of a new era in the vee Revolution. Piece after fiery piece left the listening world enthralled. Traveling from symphony hall to symphony hall, the band played a series of shows with full orchestral accompaniment. Classical enthusiasts were left speechless. The indie-rock world was blown away. Yes, these were good times for the band.
The next year saw the band reach a whole new level of ascendancy. Autobiography Of A Dying Band became a massive, worldwide sensation. Chants of "Give me VD or give me death" resounded off the rafters in every sleepy hamlet and major metropolis. Throngs gathered to meet them at every press conference. The Grammys were suspended for one year, simply so the Recording Academy could give special award recognition to vee device. Never before had the ceremonies and every award been dedicated to a single band. The world, and everyone on it, stood in awe.
Also, during this period, the band toured Russia, and there acquired the services of Archie. However, due to unfortunately cumbersome bureaucratic processes, her work visa was not renewed and Moscow called her home after six months. On returning home, her passport was revoked, and so marooned, she began her own band - Yuri Gagarin and the Cosmonauts - which eventually went on to become one of Russia's greatest musical exports since Tchaikovsky.
Whispers grew to a deafening pitch. Reporters wrote them off. Behind The Music specials were prepared. But try as they might, the public at large could not breach the wall of silence surrounding the band. For a year, the most popular topic around water-coolers the world-over was whether or not the band existed anymore. And then came "the shot heard 'round the world." The band played a series of six sold-out nights in Oban, Scotland. McCaig's Folly was renamed "McCaig's Genius" in honour of the performance. Women swooned. Men swooned. It was a brilliant return to form for the band hitherto forgotten. While in West Scotland, the band added Macfarlane "The Cannone" to their roster. Immediately thereafter, owning to their worldwide surge in popularity, Time printed a special issue entitled "The World's Four Most Beautiful People."