Read Online Best Of Everything by R.E. Blake, Russell Blake - Free Book Online
Authors: R.E. Blake, Russell Blake
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make the band an extension of you. If you can do that, you’re going to be unstoppable.”
I consider his words and nod. “Where would you start?”
“Your guitarist is pretty damned good, but for my taste the arrangements are too…big arena. See if you can bring it down, make it more intimate. Maybe do the whole thing unplugged. Get some incense going. Take your shoes off. Make it personal, one-on-one. I think I’d do our ballad with just you and the piano, like the demo – leave out the rest of the band. Some of the others, just you and the guitar player sitting next to each other, like you and Derek did those first appearances. Maybe set a hat or an open guitar case on the edge of the stage so the audience feels like they’re watching a street performance. Those are your roots, so you shouldn’t stray too far from them. Stay true to what got you here, and the audience will love you for it.”
A lowered sedan with opaque windows creeps down the street, a booming bass beat echoing from inside. Everything Sebastian says is accurate: I’m not really comfortable with any of this. Because of that, I don’t own it. It seems fake to me, so I treat it as an illusion, and that’s coming through in the performance.
I need to get back to that place where I was that morning I first met Derek, where I was the tough, rebellious street scrapper who was doing it for real. Now I feel like a trained monkey going through the motions. And Sebastian’s just told me that it’s not cutting it. He’s a legend in the music business, and I’d have to be an idiot to ignore his feedback.
I may be many things, but I’m no idiot.
We go back inside and I thank Sebastian and Terry for coming, sending the clear message that I want to be alone with my group. Once they leave, I sit down with the band, explain the problem, and enlist them to help solve it.
We spend the next hour retooling two songs, and by the time we’re done I’m happy with the direction. It feels more real to me, not like an act, which means that it will be real to the audience as well.
Maybe the secret, if there is one, is to just do what feels right and ignore everyone else. Fans of my music want into my world, not the other way around. I didn’t go out trying to impress with my talent – I just sang songs I liked because I had no friends and my life was crap and all I had was my guitar and my music.
So now, instead of trying to be a performer, I’ll do something way, way harder.
The band’s gone and the room’s empty. I lift my phone and eye myself in the screen. It’s going to be tough, but I’ve only got one option. My whispered voice startles me in the quiet as I talk to my reflection.
“I’m going to be me.”
Chapter 8
I get to the apartment and collapse on the bed, drained from the long day. After brushing my teeth, I pull on some sweats and fish my phone out of my jacket. Derek answers in seconds.
“Hey,” I say. “Sorry I’m calling so late.”
“No problem. Any more fallout from the radio thing?”
“I haven’t even checked. Been in rehearsal.” I tell him about Sebastian’s visit and my revelation.
“Go with your gut, Sage. Got you this far.”
“Thanks, Derek.” I pause, trying to remember what else I wanted to tell him. “Oh! I almost forgot. Terry says that she may have you on a leg of the tour with me!”
“That’s awesome. When will you know for sure?”
“It’s kind of like baking a cake. You can’t rush it.”
“So…when?”
“Maybe a week or so,” I guess, wishing I had a more concrete answer.
“Well, that’s better than nothing. It would be way cool if it happens.”
“How are your rehearsals going?” I ask.
“Not nearly as exciting as yours. My band’s pretty solid. Can’t complain. The players are really good.”
“Have you thought about flying out here for a couple days?”
“Believe me, that’s all I think about. But my manager has my schedule packed right now. I’m hoping in
I consider his words and nod. “Where would you start?”
“Your guitarist is pretty damned good, but for my taste the arrangements are too…big arena. See if you can bring it down, make it more intimate. Maybe do the whole thing unplugged. Get some incense going. Take your shoes off. Make it personal, one-on-one. I think I’d do our ballad with just you and the piano, like the demo – leave out the rest of the band. Some of the others, just you and the guitar player sitting next to each other, like you and Derek did those first appearances. Maybe set a hat or an open guitar case on the edge of the stage so the audience feels like they’re watching a street performance. Those are your roots, so you shouldn’t stray too far from them. Stay true to what got you here, and the audience will love you for it.”
A lowered sedan with opaque windows creeps down the street, a booming bass beat echoing from inside. Everything Sebastian says is accurate: I’m not really comfortable with any of this. Because of that, I don’t own it. It seems fake to me, so I treat it as an illusion, and that’s coming through in the performance.
I need to get back to that place where I was that morning I first met Derek, where I was the tough, rebellious street scrapper who was doing it for real. Now I feel like a trained monkey going through the motions. And Sebastian’s just told me that it’s not cutting it. He’s a legend in the music business, and I’d have to be an idiot to ignore his feedback.
I may be many things, but I’m no idiot.
We go back inside and I thank Sebastian and Terry for coming, sending the clear message that I want to be alone with my group. Once they leave, I sit down with the band, explain the problem, and enlist them to help solve it.
We spend the next hour retooling two songs, and by the time we’re done I’m happy with the direction. It feels more real to me, not like an act, which means that it will be real to the audience as well.
Maybe the secret, if there is one, is to just do what feels right and ignore everyone else. Fans of my music want into my world, not the other way around. I didn’t go out trying to impress with my talent – I just sang songs I liked because I had no friends and my life was crap and all I had was my guitar and my music.
So now, instead of trying to be a performer, I’ll do something way, way harder.
The band’s gone and the room’s empty. I lift my phone and eye myself in the screen. It’s going to be tough, but I’ve only got one option. My whispered voice startles me in the quiet as I talk to my reflection.
“I’m going to be me.”
Chapter 8
I get to the apartment and collapse on the bed, drained from the long day. After brushing my teeth, I pull on some sweats and fish my phone out of my jacket. Derek answers in seconds.
“Hey,” I say. “Sorry I’m calling so late.”
“No problem. Any more fallout from the radio thing?”
“I haven’t even checked. Been in rehearsal.” I tell him about Sebastian’s visit and my revelation.
“Go with your gut, Sage. Got you this far.”
“Thanks, Derek.” I pause, trying to remember what else I wanted to tell him. “Oh! I almost forgot. Terry says that she may have you on a leg of the tour with me!”
“That’s awesome. When will you know for sure?”
“It’s kind of like baking a cake. You can’t rush it.”
“So…when?”
“Maybe a week or so,” I guess, wishing I had a more concrete answer.
“Well, that’s better than nothing. It would be way cool if it happens.”
“How are your rehearsals going?” I ask.
“Not nearly as exciting as yours. My band’s pretty solid. Can’t complain. The players are really good.”
“Have you thought about flying out here for a couple days?”
“Believe me, that’s all I think about. But my manager has my schedule packed right now. I’m hoping in
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