When I was in college, my buddies and I used to sit around in the dorm and discuss three very vexing philosophical questions. The first two involved cucumbers, and I really don't remember what they were since these discussions usually involved smoking a Thai Stick. However, I do remember the third question. It was thus:

If you have a car, and you replace the ashtray, do you still have the same car? And if the answer is yes, suppose you then replace the steering wheel? Then a tire. Do you then tell people you have a new car? And then lets say that over time, you replace every single original part of the car with a new one. Is it still the same car? And if not, at what point does it become a new one? And then suppose you take all of the original parts that you replaced, and use them to build a whole other car. Which one is the original car, and which one is the new car?

We would argue these questions endlessly, smoke some more Thai Stick and then forget what we were arguing about and eat some Funyons. Then we'd remember and argue some more, but this time it was about if each of our fingers have their own personalities, could more than one of us have "Bono Fingers". I mean…the thai stick was really quite strong.

I see the same dynamic playing out with the music bands I loved growing up, and the questions this poses are no less vexing than they were in college, although the Thai Stick use has dipped noticeably, and drinking Ensure doesn't seem to lead to the same intense epiphanies.

Here's an example. Recently, my friend said she was going to see the band Kansas, which is one of my all time favorite bands.

"No you are not!" I shrieked, way too loud for the Bar Mitzvah we were attending at the time. Kansas consisted of six members but three were clearly the most important and gave the band its identity. (Steve Walsh, Robbie Steinheart and Kerry Livgren).

None of them are in "Kansas" now. Between them, they wrote and sang all of their classic songs. Robbie played the violin, which was the band's signature instrument. They were also the front-men. They were the ones who would yell "Hellooooo Cleveland!" and introduced the bass player (Dave Hope, who is also no longer in the band).

Only two of the original members are in the band, but the songs are being sung by other dudes who were zygotes when the band was popular. To me, at some point, as original members retired or joined ISIS or whatever they did, it no longer was Kansas. It became a Kansas cover or tribute band, which is fine. I like Tribute bands. I see Grateful Dead tribute bands at least once a month. But these Dead bands don't have Jerry, and they don't have Bob, and they don't have Pigpen, and they are not the Grateful Dead, and they have the decency not to pretend that they are.

Some bands are even more removed from their true selves than Kansas, which still does have their original drummer and guitarist. Take the Jefferson Airplane (Starship). They were essentially Paul Kantner, Grace Slick and Marty Balin. Over time, members joined and left, and some died.

But now, there is a band touring as Jefferson Starship that has NO original members. None! I might as well grab two triangles and a didgeridoo and call myself Jefferson Starship. (Back off groupies!). Every single member of the band touring as "Jefferson Starship" had exactly as much to do with making their classic albums as I did.

My friend who is seeing "Kansas" argues that they are playing the same music. It sounds the same, and they have some lead singer who approximates what their original lead singer sounded like, so it's still Kansas. However, a simple thought experiment quickly dispels this argument:

Suppose instead of Kansas, you went to a different concert, and a voice came over the loudspeaker: "Ladies and Gentlemen. Put your hands together for Chuck Plando, Melvine Fishbein, Horace Jones and Björk Guðmundsdóttir. That's right. Please welcome the legendary Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young!!"You'd probably be disappointed. Especially if the dude who was singing "Sugar Mountain '' was still on Sugar Mountain.

As bad as this is, it's recently gotten worse.

I had always thought that if Kansas had named themselves "Walsh, Livgren and Steinheart", their new incarnation couldn't get away with what they are doing. And if CSN&Y had named themselves "Chubby Hippies' ' (they would have grown into it), a band would still be touring under that name today.

In other words, having the poor forsight to choose an eponymous band name forclosed any future tour of your band by a bunch of strangers. But, as I learned on election night in 2016, I can be wrong! Something I thought was preposterous can actually happen!

I recently saw on-line the picture at the top of this article. Apparently, 70s Prog band Emerson, Lake and Palmer are coming to the Keswick Theater this summer.

This is surprising given that Emerson and Lake are quite dead. Original drummer Carl Palmer will be there, but without the other two, the show will be one, long, drum solo, which I couldn't have handled even in my thai-stick days.

Presumably, Palmer hired two (or more) new musicians to play all the non-drum parts. But unless there is some freakin' weird coincidence happening, their names will not be Emerson and/or Lake. So, to the point; you will not be seeing Emerson, Lake and Palmer. You will be seeing Schmortstein, Pleckelsburger and Palmer, which may sound terrific, but is still essentially a lie.

To illustrate how ridiculous all of this can get, I'd point to my personal favorite band, Yes. They have undergone more changes in personnel than a Boardwalk ice cream stand. I think even I may have been their base player for at least a few months.

Currently, there are two versions of Yes touring, playing the same songs, with various impersonators filling in the necessary gaps in each group. I read an interview recently where one of Yes's guitarists said that he can see Yes touring for "generations to come". NO NO NO! I think if there is one basic truth in the universe, it must be that once every single member of a band is in their grave, touring as that band must stop. Referring back to my college days, once all of the parts of both cars are in the junkyard, the Indy 500 is off the table.

Admittedly, not every case is so clear cut and there are shades of grey. There have been some bands that have successfully undergone major personnel changes and have transcended the tribute band syndrome. A good example of that is Genesis. But Phil Collins Genesis is very different from Peter Gabriel Genesis, and watching Phil Collins sing Gabriel songs seems somehow off, and does veer into tribute band territory. Then, there are bands that lose an important member, but still have other important members (i.e. The Eagles, or The Who). What should happen with them?

The not-at-all-anticipated "Daylin's Rules of Rock and Roll", soon to be published as a trilogy in 4 parts, says that for a band to be able to continue touring and representing to ticket-buying fans that they will actually be seeing a reasonable version of the band they love, several things should be true.

First, one or more major creative forces must still be part of the band. The drum tech from the ྉ tour doesn't count. I'm talking about a lead singer, a major song-writer, a name that is widely acknowledged to be part of the essence of the group. It also helps if the band is continuing to make new music of similar quality to when they were at their creative peak.

One band that did it right was Led Zeppelin, They were always classy, at least when they weren't actually tossing live human beings out of hotel windows. When their drummer, John Bonham died, they broke up, pretty much permanently. Their lead singer, Robert Plant said "it just isn't Zeppelin without Bonzo". He's right. It's not. And it's to Zep's great credit that they respected their art and their legacy in not cashing in by misleading and cheating their fans.

Now, I'm off. Trump brothers Donald Jr. and Eric are touring as Simon and Garfunkle and I've got front row tickets! God I hope they do Cecilia!