"That
AMP is TOO fucking LOUD, man! I have to
SING over that shit, dude! Come
on!"
Rehearsing
with my cover band, my patience is rapidly shredding along with the earsplitting,
overblown noodling of the relatively-new lead guitarist.
This is a
real thing: The Singer/Songwriter vs. The Lead Guitarist
Thing. It has a genuine lifecycle, a distinctive
dynamic unto itself.
This is
how it goes:
Lead
Singer (with drummer and bassist already on board) starts auditioning for Lead
Guitarists. Some are good, some are not
so good, and then this one guy is GREAT. THAT'S
THE SOUND. The dude is a total pro, a perfect fit. The whole band is beaming, jamming, feeling
like The Beatles. By the end of the
audition, everyone's excited about the prospect of working together with this
added element of proficiency. The
perfect puzzle piece is FINALLY in place.
The first
few rehearsals move along really well.
Lead Guitarist may as well be wearing a shirt that says: TEAM
PLAYER. He's considerate, easygoing, collaborative.
He rocks. He has a sweet girlfriend (usually, unless
she's a cunt but thankfully that was only with one or two of them), so he's
tastefully flirtatious, harmlessly so but still it's kinda nice.
MUSIC is
the GREAT HEALER of any and all of Life's bummers and AIN'T IT GRAND!
Bullshit.
By the 2nd
gig (sometimes even the first gig, by the end of the first set. No, make that the end of the first song.)
Smiling,
but not with his eyes, Guitar Man mumbles: "You can sing over this, Lena. I've
heard you belt."
O my
god. My mind starts racing with
resentment that I don't bother voicing for the umpteenth time: I pick out the songs, I provide the sheet
music, I front the band, I book the rehearsals and the paying gigs. I do everything
but WIPE your ASS for you and STILL you're an obnoxious lunatic to work with…yet
another one…
"Listen,
I know I can belt but are you tryin' to make me HURT myself?? I ask you to turn it down, I look away for
one second and - what - you just JACK IT right back up? That's like a big FUCK YOU to me, don't you
think?"
I had a
particularly nasty argument with my husband just prior to this rehearsal. I'm drinking too much beer and frankly I am
getting sick of working with this cover band.
It's gotten to the point where it's not worth the time, effort or the
haggling with bar owners.
I make a
mental note that it's time to narrow down my projects and just work on my original
project. This upcoming cover gig is
going to be my last. I'll tell them this
right after we get paid.
In the
meantime, I pop open another BUD ICE, I'm also supposed to be at my desk and
fully operational at my day job as an office manager in about 4 hours.
* * * * *
