.

Born to Rock

Life is about two things: opportunities and taking advantage of opportunities. So when your friend who is in a popular band asks if you would like to play a show with them there are two very clear options: Be a rock star OR Be a pansie. By now I hope that I have proven that I am no pansie, so I took the rock star option.

Now I should probably explain something. This is not the first band I have been in. No, in my college years my friends and I formed a band we called Guatemallan Rubbish. Guatemallan Rubbish was formed specifically for our university's Harvest Festival and talent show and to answer the question you are all asking: no. We didn't win the talent show. Nor did we place second or third. But to be honest, and forgive me if I still sound a little sensitive, I truly beleive the judges were absolutely nuts. I say that only because I still believe in the good of mankind, and if they weren't nuts then they were undoubtably paid off or even worse, had no taste at all. I think they were just crazy.

It might be argued that people think they sound better than they actually do. That may be true. It may have even been true on that particular night, however, if you are arguing that Guatemallan Rubbish did not deserve to win. I would argue that our following success would indicate otherwise. You see in the coming months, Guatemallan Rubbish was not only asked to open for one the hottest bands at the University, we were also invited (and accepted) to play for a live radio show one Friday evening for a Phoenix radio station.

Oh, yes, I forgot to mention one important fact concerning our band. When Guatemallan Rubbish was formed it was formed under one important pretense, that none of the members could play an instrument they knew how to play. This worked well for me at the time, because I don't know how to play a single instrument, which in turn meant I could play any instrument. And I did. Most often holding lead vocals, I also played trumpet, percussion, keyboard, the magical music machine, and many other insturments. A novel idea for Guatemallan Rubbish, but not for most bands.

Which brings me back to the recent proposition to play with my friends band, M77 (www.myspace.com/m77). In case you are wondering I haven't since the G.R. days picked up any instruments, not even keys the instrument I agreed to play for M77. The upshot is this, I would only be playing in one song (The Distance-Cake cover) and had a couple weeks to learn how to play. Let's go ahead and skip the practice stories, and my colored key method of playing and jump right to the night of the show.

Friday night. December 8. Boardwalk-Flagstaff, AZ. It was a cold night and the spitit of rock filled the crisp air. Even my breath seemed to come thundering out of my soul, rocking it's way visibly through the frozen atmosphere. Being a rock star generally takes years of hard work and heart break, but tonight was different. There was something in the air that insinuated greatness. Something was happening.

Like every great rock star, my night began in the wardrobe. The key to being is seeing and if the audience doesn't see a rock star, then you will never be one. (I learned that lesson in my last band.) Fortunately I had some international options from my recent travels. Pants: Blue jeans from London. Shirt: Mustard tee-shirt from Thailand; slightly small with the silouhette of a man with an afro. Coat: Brown suede-like sport coat from Rome. Capped with a hat Castro might have worn if he were a skater. And finally a pair of signature nerdy plastic lensed glasses.

I arrived fashionably late, missing a good part of the opening bands but early enough to ensure my ivory was still colored properly. It was. "The Distance" was the seventh song in the set. So I rested in the shadows at the back of the crowd as M77 progressively rocked the crowd one song at a time. Note by note my song approached. If any rock star, tells you they don't get nervous, they are lying, which to their credit may at times be to necessary uphold their desireable "don't care" attitude. Song six. I crawl out of the shaddows and meander my way to the side of the stage. Song six ends. The crowd's is screaming. The band is sweating. Then...

"Ladies and Gentlemen, have any of you ever heard of the band Cake?!" The crowd thunders back. "Well tonight, we have a special treat. One of the band members from Cake agreed to play a song with us..." As the crowd rumbles in anticipation, I take the stage, swaggering casually as if there was no audience at all to my keyboard. I remove my black gloves, pick up the keyboard the size of my arm and walk to the front of the stage staring through every eye in the audience. Holding my instument above my head, like Braveheart would his sword before entering into battle. And with that the music errupted.

The music starts pumping. I start jumping. The crowd follows suit. Up and down. Up and down. The floor bends slightly with every bounce. Then pulling my weapon down from the air, I drag it accross my body with the beat, as my part approached. The chorus hits and I look down at the keys to fulfill my duty...except they're not there. Well at least not some of them. Appearently in my freak out, as I drug the keys accross my midsection a number of them got caught on my pockets. I staired at the dismembered piece in disbelief. The music stopped. The lead singer came over, looked at the keyboard and it's owner trying to salvage the remaining twisted keys.

Corn (the lead) returns to his mic are screams, "SECOND VERSE!". The audience explodes and I return to my freak out. Only this time when the second chorus came I was ready. I passionately plinked my part. Screaming out the backup vocals to my Army of Rock! Eventually, to everyones disappointment the song ended. I tossed my keyboard on top of the bass player's amp and walked elusively off stage.

My part was done. Blood. Sweat. Keys. I left it all out there on the stage. When the set was done, I walked outside, oblivious to those around. Outside, one guy smoking with his friends notices me, "Great f*n show, man!" "Thanks, man." I say and pull him in for a distant hug. His girl responds, "Hey what about me?" "Alright, Alright." I respond and give here a hug too. Pause. I look at the other guy standing in the group, and give him a hug so he wouldn't have to ask. Turn and walk away.

"Hey Wait! Wait up!" I hear from behind. I turn to see the last guy running to catch up with me. "Hey man, I just found out you play for Cake!" "Yeah..." I respond. "Oh f* man, I love your music! You guys are awesome! F*! I wish I had a pen right now!" "Thanks, man. Hey, just keep buying cd's, ok?" I say. "Definitely..."he slurs. I turn and walk away.

posted by Travelin' D @ 1:41 PM