“I am not long for this world,” she said. “And according to our customs I may make a final wish.”

“This is true, Mama,” said I.

From underneath her bed she pulled a black case.

“What is that, Mama?” I asked. “Is it a special kind of ice, that never melts?”

“It is a saxophone case, daughter.” She coughed and blood spattered her blankets. “It is my wish that you open this case, and learn to use what is inside it, and make ska.”

“Mama,” I cried, “what is a saxophone? And what is a ska? Tell me!”

But my mother could not hear me, for she had crossed to fraida, the other side.

And so that night, I stole away from my tribe, taking nothing but my bone-wrought ice-chipper, my whaling knife, and the black case. I would not undertake my trial of womanhood, for someone charged with a dying wish cannot become a woman until that wish has been fulfilled.

And after years of fruitless wandering through the ice and snow, I found a place called Madison, and the natives there knew of ska. They told me to seek I Voted for Kodos, a high-octane, horn-powered local tribe, for their ska was the best.

When I found them, I lowered myself into the traditional position of supplication and said, “I come to carry out my mother’s dying wish. I must make ska, or I am doomed forever to be a child.”

And Rick, vocals and trombone, asked, “Are you skilled?”

“I have learned to play this saxophone,” I said, “during my bleak wanderings, though my only teachers were the songs of birds and whales.” And I played.

“You are skilled indeed,” said Lee, mellophone and guitar. “We will teach you to make ska, and you will wander with our tribe.”

“And we will teach you the skank,” said Chris, lead guitar, “which is our traditional dance.”

“And we will teach you to harness the song of the bird,” said Andy, trumpet and keys, “and use it to create the solo.”

“And we will teach you the secrets of our tribe,” said Paul, drums. “How to track the elusive afterbeat, how to write a horn riff, and how to evade the perilous, relentless beasts: the kids who pretend that they’re eighteen.”

I bowed low in wordless gratitude.

“And perhaps,” said Ross, bass, “you will one day become a woman.”

*This is an altered version of the bio of Nick Rydell, the saxophone player for I Voted For Kodos. You can read the original bio along with the funny bios of all of the other members of the band by visiting their website at http://www.iv4k.com