I stood up and turned my head slowly to the side, cracking my neck. Nick had avoided eye contact with us before, but now he was watching me warily as I looked at him. “What do you mean,” I said, “they don’t want us to play?”
Nick kept his eyes on me. He was a cool guy and he had a good head on his shoulders, but I could see that I was making him nervous. “Look, don’t freak out, Eric,” he said. “They aren’t bad guys, but like, their band name isn’t really a joke, you know? They take themselves really seriously, and they’re worried that you guys, well...they’re worried that you suck. And they don’t want you to play if you suck.”
“Okay,” said
Ryan.
“So we go downstairs and play a few songs so they can hear us. I’m sure they’ll let us play.”
“Look, that’s not the issue. Who the hell are they to tell us we can’t play?” I pointed a finger at Nick. “You’re supposed to be our manager. You wanted the job. You asked us. And here we are in your house, and you’re letting other people tell you what we can and can’t do. That’s really lame, Nick. I’m really disappointed.”
“Yeah, dude,” Jed said. “I hate to say it and all, but that is pretty lame.”
Nick squared his shoulders. “Look, I didn’t say you weren’t going to play. We just need to work it out with these guys, you know what I mean? We’ll just go down there and talk to them.”
“Why should we have to?” I asked. “Nick. It is your house. Just go down there and lay down the law.”
Nick shook his head. “What the hell, Eric?” he said. “Man, you can barely even play. Why are you acting like you’re King Shit all of a sudden?”
“I might suck at playing bass, but I know my rights, and we’ve got just as much right to play this party as those guys do.” I looked at Ryan and Jed, who were still sitting at the table holding their beers, watching Nick and I argue. “Come on, guys. Let’s go talk to these ass-heads.”
Nick led us downstairs. We lined up looking at the four members of Seriosity, who heard us coming and were standing shoulder to shoulder waiting for us.
Nick began to speak, but I cut him off. “Hang on a second.” I looked at the guitar player that had spoken to us earlier. I gave him a good hard stare, and then said all that needed to be said: “Dude. What the f--k?”
The guy crossed his arms, looking uptight and defensive. “Look, it’s no big deal, okay?” he started. “We’ve been working really hard for a long time getting ready for this. And no offence, but you guys haven’t exactly got your shit together. We saw you play in the hallway, and again, no offence, but it was a joke. It wasn’t even music. We just think you guys should play some other time, and let us have our night. Fair’s fair, right? You’ve been using our gear. Well, do us a favor and step aside for the night. Just let us do our thing.”
“No way, dude,” I said. “Yeah, we’ve been using your gear, but that wasn’t a favor. That was an agreed-upon exchange for you guys using this basement as a rehearsal space. So don’t get all magnanimous on us. We’ve got as much right to play tonight as you do.”
“Besides,” Jed cut in, “you haven’t heard us play properly. I know these guys must have sucked when they played at the school, but we’ve come pretty far. We’re solid.”
“Yeah,” Ryan added. “Plus, the poster said two bands were playing. People will be pissed if they show up and there’s only one band.”
“That’s not our problem,” replied the drummer.
“It’s your problem if it’s your fault there’s only one band,” Ryan said.
“Look, I don’t want to sound all high and mighty here,” I said, “but you guys don’t have the right to tell us we can’t play. It’s really as simple as that.”
The guitarist got a snotty look on his face. “Maybe,” he said. “But we do have the right to say you can’t use our gear.”
I nodded. “Okay, if you want to play it that way.” I looked at Nick. “And we have the right to tell you to get the hell out of this basement. Right Nick?”
Nick took a deep breath. Since it was his basement he was the official authority, even if he was afraid to act like it. We all looked at him. “Okay,” he finally said. “It’s a stalemate, right? But it’s still the same arrangement as before: Riot Band needs the gear, and Seriosity needs the place to play.” He looked around. “So how’s this? You guys let Riot Band play a song for you right now. You’ll see that they’re okay. And then we’re all cool, right? He looked at us. “You guys need a warm-up anyway, right?”
“No, to hell with that,” I said. “I’m not going to beg for my right to play. We’re here and we’re playing.” I shook my head with disbelief. “I mean, we’re the damn openers, anyway. And this is a freaking house party. Who cares if we suck?”
“We don’t want this to be a joke, man,” said the bass player. “And no offence, but you guys are a joke.”
Ryan slapped me on the shoulder. “Okay, let’s play, dude. I want to show these guys what we can do.” We’d left our gear in the basement when we arrived, and he bent down and started opening his guitar case.
“So it’s a deal?” Nick said to the Seriosity guys. “You’ll check them out?”
They all shrugged and finally shuffled out of the way, clearing a path for us to get to the drums and amps.
I gave Nick a cold look, but I got out my bass.
Jed sat down and started adjusting the drums. “I figured you guys would arrange something for vocals, he said to the Seriosity guys. “You didn’t get a microphone or anything?”
“We don’t have a singer,” one of them said. “We’re an instrumental band.”
“Are you kidding?” Ryan asked. “You’re all psycho-serious and you don’t even have a singer? Man, no instrumental band in history has gone anywhere.”
“This isn’t about going somewhere, or ‘making it,’ or some phony shit like that,” said the mouthy guitarist. “It’s about being the best we can be, and doing things properly.”
“How am I supposed to sing then?” Ryan said, looking at Jed and me. “Do I just scream?”
I shrugged. “Sing loud, I guess. Don’t scream your head off though. You don’t want to screw up your throat.”
Ryan and I plugged in and stood waiting for Jed to get the drums ready. We looked at each other, mostly to avoid looking at the Seriosity guys. The whole thing had put me in a rotten mood.
“Ready,” Jed said, and he did a roll on the snare. “Let’s do it.”
“Okay,” Ryan said. “Let’s try ‘No Destination,’ okay?”
Jed counted it in, and we started pounding away on the song. It was one of the ones Jed had helped Ryan finish. It’s a pretty simple rock number, but we were over-eager to show these guys we were worthy and we gave a clunky performance, not hitting our stride until the last chorus.
When we banged out the last note we let the instruments ring, and the fuzz lingered in the cement basement. We didn’t look at each other. I set my jaw, waiting for the comment I knew was coming from the smart-ass guitarist.
“I told you they suck.” He sounded smug.
I didn’t look at him. Instead, I hit a D. Then I hit it again, and again, gradually forming a simple, throbbing rhythm.
“Look, don’t bother, guys,” said one of the Seriosity players, but Jed took the hint and started in on the toms. I changed to G, and back to D. Slowly we started working our way into ‘Heroin.’
One of the guys from the other band started to wave, calling for us to desist. Ryan responded by hitting a heavy, jarring chord on his blue Les Paul and letting it reverberate. He had a sneer on his face that said, “We’re playing another song. F--k you. What are you going to do about it?” I liked Ryan. He was a bitch sometimes, but he had character.
We had been playing ‘Heroin’ fast out of the gate at all of our practices, but this time we let it build, pumping it slowly up from a simple bass throb and slow battering tom rhythm, gradually working up faster and faster.
Ryan didn’t even concern himself with playing the chords, or the riff that Jed had taught him. He pulled his keys out of his pocket and started scratching them against his strings, looking for discord and distorted anti-harmonies. The feedback and distortion from the big Marshall amp was torturous, which is exactly what Ryan was going for. I glanced up at the Seriosity guys (I still mostly watched my fingers while playing) and they all looked pissed off. Good, I thought.
I nodded to Jed, and he abruptly stopped banging on the toms and whacked his sticks together sharply, Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! and we exploded into the fast, hard version that we were used to playing. We ripped into it like fatties into a buffet, and although we didn’t have the technical precision that Seriosity did, I knew that we were at least matching them in attitude.
And we didn’t let it end. We must have played that damn song for ten minutes, and when we finally let it go, easing back into a slower, jagged jam, we looked up and saw that people had started arriving. It wasn’t just Nick and the four dick-faces from Seriosity anymore. There were ten people in the basement. The early birds had arrived for the party.
The new arrivals clapped.
“That was awesome,” Nick said.
Ryan and Jed and I looked around at each other. I think we were all surprised. It was easily the most committed performance we had given of a song, and what was more, we had listened to each other and responded with our play. It was a breakthrough.
I looked at the big-mouthed guitarist from Seriosity. “So we’ll play at what? Nine-thirty?”
He shrugged. “I guess.”
Nick suddenly realized that people had started walking into his house, and he looked around at them. “Did you guys pay to get in?” he asked.
“Some hairy guy got two bucks off us at the door,” said a girl.
Nick smiled. “Cool. Welcome. First band is on at nine-thirty, second band--”
“The headliners,” interjected a Seriosity kid.
Nick looked at him. “Right. The headliners will be on around ten thirty. Until then, hang out. I think we’re going to get Rock Band going upstairs.”
Ryan and I took off out guitars, and everybody started drifting upstairs. I managed to catch the eye of the guitar player who seemed to be the leader of Seriosity, and he lingered a moment while everyone else moved. Ryan gave me a questioning look, but I gave him a little wink to say it was cool.
When I had the guy alone, I offered him my hand. “Eric,” I said.
“Doug,” he said, and we shook.
“It’s our first show,” I said, “but it’s your first show too. Don’t forget that. You guys might have a tighter set than us, but don’t start talking shit like you’re the special headliners and we’re your bitch openers, you got that? You guys are no one special.”
He snorted. “Dude, after people see your band play and then see us play, you guys are going to be completely humiliated. I’m not trying to be a dick here. It’s just a simple truth.”
“Maybe it is. But until that happens, you guys better remember that you’re no better than us. Same level. So don’t bother trying to pull rank and tell us shit about not being allowed to play. If you try and act smart like that again,” I paused for dramatic effect, “I’ll smash your skull like a f--king tea cup.”
He sneered, but I knew he was rattled. “Big talk.”
“Try me.”
I could see him thinking about whether or not to say anything else, but after three seconds he broke away and walked up the stairs. I grinned, waited a moment, and followed him.
2009 © Nolan Whyte
/ my profile 
