laughed. “Sooner or later some old barfly who’s half blind and hammered out of her mind is bound to take you up on it.”
“Ouch!”
Brad joined us. He seemed to be in a much better mood. “What’s so funny?”
“Jamie’s giving me romantic advice,” I said.
He snickered and shook his head. “Talk about the blind leading the blind …” She slugged him in the arm. “Ouch!”
Danny pointed to me. “That’s what
he
said.”
“So if you guys are ready to quit goofing around,” Jamie said, “maybe one of these days we could actually, like … play some
music
?”
“Sounds good,” Danny said.
“Yeah,” Brad said. “And thanks for setting up, guys. I owe you.”
We all got up, and as Brad and Jamie made their way to the stage ahead of us, Danny turned to me. “See? No worries …”
The full-band sound check went surprisingly well, considering. These guys were all business when it came to the music. After that we got our personal stuff out of the motor home and went up to our rooms.
I hadn’t really thought about it, but I guess I’d figured I’d end up rooming with Danny. After all, we had that whole bass ’n’ drums thing going, and we seemed to get along pretty well. But when I got upstairs, I saw that Brad and Danny had one of the rooms and the girls were in another, so that left me and Glenn. Which made sense once I thought about it. I mean, I suppose a little of that “creative tension” stuff was cool, but putting Brad and Glenn in the same room? Why push your luck.…
Anyway, I threw my duffel on one of the beds and grabbed some stuff out of it, then took a shower. When I came out, Glenn was sitting on the other bed playing his guitar through a little practice amp. He had this killer riff going—it was basically a driving 4/4 rhythm part, but it had this cool little melodic twist after each line that made it really interesting. I could hear a syncopated drum part in my head that could fit it real well. It sounded like some tune off the radio, only I couldn’t recognize it.
“Hey, what is that?” I asked. “It’s great, but I can’t place it.”
He barely looked up from his guitar. “It’s just something I’m working on.”
Whoa … “That’s
yours
?”
“Yeah.”
“Wow. Nice.” He just nodded. “No, seriously,” I added. “That’s a totally killer riff.… Is there more? A chorus?”
He stopped and looked up at me. “Thanks,” he said. “Yeah, I’ve got a chorus. I’m still messing with the bridge, but it’s about there.”
“Lyrics …?”
“Yup.”
That was it—just
yup
. “Well …?” I finally asked, with my hands held palms up in that universal let’s-have-it gesture.
He didn’t say anything. Hmm. Even though he freakin’ smoked on guitar, maybe he was insecure about his singing. I’d seen him sing behind Brad and he sounded fine, but some people just didn’t like to sing solo. Or maybe he had lyrics, but no melody yet …? “Hey, that’s okay,” I finally said. “You can play it for me whenever you want. Or not. No big.” I turned around and started unpacking my stuff. And as I was placing my clothes in the little dresser on my side of the room, he started playing.
He played the original riff a couple of times before he stripped it down to a simple, chugging eighth-note thing that made up the body of the verse. Then he started singing.…
You go north
and I go south
every day
.
You hear words
that don’t come from my mouth
every day
.
I’d guessed wrong. He didn’t give the impression that he was insecure about his singing. It was more like the song might have been a personal thing to him.
His voice was actually pretty damn good. Well, a better word might be
effective
. To me, if it’s convincing on a gut level, then it works, no matter what technical skills the singer has. He didn’t have that big rock voice that Brad had—it was a little leaner, a little more intimate. But it worked perfectly for that
“Ouch!”
Brad joined us. He seemed to be in a much better mood. “What’s so funny?”
“Jamie’s giving me romantic advice,” I said.
He snickered and shook his head. “Talk about the blind leading the blind …” She slugged him in the arm. “Ouch!”
Danny pointed to me. “That’s what
he
said.”
“So if you guys are ready to quit goofing around,” Jamie said, “maybe one of these days we could actually, like … play some
music
?”
“Sounds good,” Danny said.
“Yeah,” Brad said. “And thanks for setting up, guys. I owe you.”
We all got up, and as Brad and Jamie made their way to the stage ahead of us, Danny turned to me. “See? No worries …”
The full-band sound check went surprisingly well, considering. These guys were all business when it came to the music. After that we got our personal stuff out of the motor home and went up to our rooms.
I hadn’t really thought about it, but I guess I’d figured I’d end up rooming with Danny. After all, we had that whole bass ’n’ drums thing going, and we seemed to get along pretty well. But when I got upstairs, I saw that Brad and Danny had one of the rooms and the girls were in another, so that left me and Glenn. Which made sense once I thought about it. I mean, I suppose a little of that “creative tension” stuff was cool, but putting Brad and Glenn in the same room? Why push your luck.…
Anyway, I threw my duffel on one of the beds and grabbed some stuff out of it, then took a shower. When I came out, Glenn was sitting on the other bed playing his guitar through a little practice amp. He had this killer riff going—it was basically a driving 4/4 rhythm part, but it had this cool little melodic twist after each line that made it really interesting. I could hear a syncopated drum part in my head that could fit it real well. It sounded like some tune off the radio, only I couldn’t recognize it.
“Hey, what is that?” I asked. “It’s great, but I can’t place it.”
He barely looked up from his guitar. “It’s just something I’m working on.”
Whoa … “That’s
yours
?”
“Yeah.”
“Wow. Nice.” He just nodded. “No, seriously,” I added. “That’s a totally killer riff.… Is there more? A chorus?”
He stopped and looked up at me. “Thanks,” he said. “Yeah, I’ve got a chorus. I’m still messing with the bridge, but it’s about there.”
“Lyrics …?”
“Yup.”
That was it—just
yup
. “Well …?” I finally asked, with my hands held palms up in that universal let’s-have-it gesture.
He didn’t say anything. Hmm. Even though he freakin’ smoked on guitar, maybe he was insecure about his singing. I’d seen him sing behind Brad and he sounded fine, but some people just didn’t like to sing solo. Or maybe he had lyrics, but no melody yet …? “Hey, that’s okay,” I finally said. “You can play it for me whenever you want. Or not. No big.” I turned around and started unpacking my stuff. And as I was placing my clothes in the little dresser on my side of the room, he started playing.
He played the original riff a couple of times before he stripped it down to a simple, chugging eighth-note thing that made up the body of the verse. Then he started singing.…
You go north
and I go south
every day
.
You hear words
that don’t come from my mouth
every day
.
I’d guessed wrong. He didn’t give the impression that he was insecure about his singing. It was more like the song might have been a personal thing to him.
His voice was actually pretty damn good. Well, a better word might be
effective
. To me, if it’s convincing on a gut level, then it works, no matter what technical skills the singer has. He didn’t have that big rock voice that Brad had—it was a little leaner, a little more intimate. But it worked perfectly for that
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