I knew leaving the band would hurt one of my closest friends. That didn’t stop me.
It was the early 1980s, and Boston’s rock scene boiled with energy. Bands could be born over a late-night round of drinks, and live-music clubs were almost as common as Starbucks are today. People had begun to talk about Adventure Set, a group I cofounded in a Brookline Avenue rehearsal room with the ambience of a jail cell. By our fourth performance — at the now razed Rathskellar in Kenmore Square — the crowd was shoulder to shoulder, pressed hard against the stage. The Globe published a review describing Adventure Set as a “high-tech dance band” whose songs took “a jaded view of our consumer-hungry society.” I liked the jaded part. Above the headline, there was a picture of singer Ken Scales, one of the three bandmates I was soon to desert.