Instrument
(This short story was written for a fiction writing class at UVA a couple of years ago.)
I considered them my co-workers, really; even though they were different people every night. We would all gather around the bar during the afternoon sound check. We introduced each other, made some good conversation, and ended up swearing at the labels (but later brag that we were close to being signed). Then, when one of us left, the rest would pick apart why he wasn't in the spotlight yet.
"Guitarist has an attitude, singer has no attitude."
"No originality in his songs."
"Just switched drummers...Evan left for an accounting job...the new kid doesn't have the chops yet."
I knew every time I left, they were saying some of the same things about me. Us musicians know everything, and we're going to make sure you know that. Injected into our creative juices must be an equal supply of something egocentric. I hope I'm not like that; I try to stay modest. Maybe my co-workers are thinking the same thing, but in the company of other musicians and drinks on the house, most give in.
Last night we played to a sold out crowd at The Warehouse. It was an event put on by 102.7 WMSF, one of those five bands for five bucks deals. When someone that afternoon at the bar brought up the prospect of the show being sold out, we started to get excited.
"Hell yeah! Ain't nothing like a good crowd." This was coming from the guy they called Fishhook, frontman of .02 Worth. "What you wanna bet half those tickets were sold after they announced I was closing?"
A little laughter surfaced from my right side. The guitarist and bassist from Cacophony obviously didn't agree.
"Not in this area, Hook," the guitarist said as he took out a cigarette and examined it. "You damn well know this is rich white preppy central. They'll eat up any trash MTV throws their way."
Even a simple thought like this looked like a strain for the guitarist to say. He looked more interested in lighting up that Marlboro than processing a thought. I seriously thought he was going to singe his dirty, clumped hair as he single-handedly worked the lighter. Someone shared my thoughts and muttered "grease fire," but I don't think the guitarist heard him.
He was a good guitarist. No debate there. This guy could play every scale imaginable at blinding speeds. He carried his band. Their music was bland and uninspired, but he could more than make up for it with the mastering of his instrument. At least that's what I thought after I caught their Richard House performance.
Fishhook looked a little upset. "See, that's what I don't get, man. I don't get it." He was swaying back and forth in his stool while throwing his arms in different directions. "You know you'd take an opportunity to be on MTV in a second. I know your type, yeah, you'd do it." The guitarist stared at Fishhook through his cigarette smoke for a second. Bloodshot eyes locked. You could tell the guitarist was going to try to say something prophetic, something we'd go back and tell our roadies about later.
"Yes I would. But you know what? I'd destroy the no-talent sellout image so many of those MTV bands have. Kids would see close-ups of my callused fingers and they'd respect me. They'd learn to look past the hype and discover the real talent. The people that should be in the spotlight rarely are, and I'll gladly teach the MTV population that." He gave a half shake of his head at Fishhook and turned back in disgust. "Geez, you wish you had an ounce of talent in your hip hop production."
"What?" Fishhook had to finish swallowing his last sip before the implications set in. "We've got more talent than you'll ever know, ever see. Wow, look at your fast fingers. Oh wow, never seen that before." The guitarist tried to interrupt but Fishhook wouldn't let him. "You don't understand. Rock is dead. People want something new. I want something new. The focus is on the rhythm. People wanna dance."
"Not to the crap you put out," the guitarist threw in.
"Guess Columbia likes that crap cause they're talking to our manager after the show."
"Yeah right." The guitarist kind of laughed and coughed at the same time, not bothering to cover his mouth. "I know Ben from Columbia. He's told me himself you guys will never make it."
Fishhook's turn to laugh. "Ben's at RCA now, so why don't you..."
Feedback squealed from the stage as a microphone was turned on. "Cacophony, sound check," a voice reverberated through the room.
The guitarist threw his cigarette to the ground and started to walk away. "Best of luck to you, gentlemen," he said mockingly. Then he pointed at Fishhook and snapped his finger. Not sure exactly what that was for.
Fishhook immediately started to tell us the details of the Columbia meeting, but I wasn't really listening. I watched the guitarist yelling to the sound guy on the stage. I watched him complain about his guitar not being in tune, not being loud enough or something along those lines. I excused myself and walked outside to catch some fresh air and found a light sprinkle starting to fall.
***
LOCAL BANDS PLAY TO SOLD OUT CROWD AT WAREHOUSE
By Jeff Ashton
Five local acts wowed a sold-out house at The Warehouse last night in an event sponsored by 102.7 WMSF.
The acts included Devon's Mask, Cacophony, Theo's Screaming Mind, Third Nature, and .02 Worth.
"The event was a success," Warehouse Manager Cole "Fox" Riely said. "WMSF has worked with us to put on some incredible shows in the past few years."
Devon's Mask began the show with a solid but short performance. Their southern psychedelic rock got the crowd up and dancing immediately.
"These guys are going to make it big," one fan pointed out. "Rick (Fietla, lead singer) just plain rocked."
Cacophony followed with a dazzling array of guitar loops and searing power chords.
"Our focus is on the instruments," lead guitarist Alan Alosau said. "We try to distinguish the fine line between mediocrity and pure talent." Alosau won the crowd's approval when he wiped his fingers on his face, leaving streaks of blood from his worn fingers. Cacophony has recently been gracing WMSF's Top Ten charts with its single "Ruin."
By far the most bizarre antics of the night came courtesy of Theo's Screaming Mind. "Walmart Field Trip" found frontwoman Allison Hart singing inside a shopping cart. Every band member enjoyed a full pack of cigarettes while playing the crowd favorite "Smoking Outside."
"They're so unpredictable," a young fan said. "I've seen them several times around town and they continue to amaze me."
Third Nature played an entire set without pause. Led by pianist Cameron Winters, the band included creative covers of New Kids On The Block's "Hangin' Tough" and John Williams' "Indiana Jones Theme."
In the night's most awkward moment, Winters asked Cacophony's Alosau to join them for a rendition of Bob Dylan's "All Along The Watchtower." Although a tired Alsoau played well, he walked off the stage after Winters laid down a blazing piano solo.
"He was showing off," Alsoau said later. "Trying to one up me. I didn't have to prove anything."
Winters could not be reached for comment.
Marshall "Fishhook" DuFrais ended the evening with his hip-hop/fusion band .02 Worth. A full horn section held its own during "Boulevard" and "Dream Right." Fishhook spent most of the night singing and dancing in the middle of the crowd with his wireless microphone. He even led the crowd to a mocking chant of "Cack-oh-phony."
"It's all in the spirit of the show," Fishhook said. "I say whatever comes to my mind, man. Alosau knows it's all good."
Fans left feeling very satisfied.
"I could've done much worse off with five bucks," a fan joked. "I think we're lucky to have all this great music under one roof every once in a while...We should be proud of our local scene."
Sunday, August 3 at 10:32 PM
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