“Happy Thanksgiving Mom,” I said as I entered the home I grew up in for the first time in a long time. “Here, I brought the potatoes like you asked.”
“Thank you,” my mom said to me taking the pot of potatoes. “Go and take a seat in the living room, turkey won’t be done for another hour or so.” As I stepped into the living room I saw a good sampling of my family. Grandpa Aaronson still as lively, yet still old as ever sat on the couch, and next to him was my brother Colin fresh from his final year at Boston University and of course my father armed and ready to watch some football, beer in one hand, remote in the other.
“Who’s winning?” I asked to no one in particular.
“Who do you think?” my dad answered my question with one of his own. “Lions are getting their ass handed to them as usual.”
“Why do they still let them keep playing on Thanksgiving?” asked my brother. “It’s kind of getting embarrassing at this point.”
“Cause its tradition,” Grandpa explained simply.
“Well you’re right about that,” I said setting up a joke. “It has become a tradition for the Lions to get their ass kicked on Thanksgiving.” When I saw three generations of Aaronson sharing a laugh I knew that the joke had landed well on its feet.
“Here have a seat Riley,” Colin said motioning to the empty seat on the couch. “So what’s new, play anywhere lately?”
“Well I had a pretty good beat going yesterday on the checkout register, but then the lady ran out of groceries,” I explained.
“So that would be a no then?”
“No, I kind of left the band actually,” I admitted.
“Yeah I figured as much when mom told me you moved into a new place,” said Colin. “Sorry to hear that.”
“I’m not,” said my father. “Maybe you’ll get a real job now.”
“I have a real job Dad, two actually.”
“Yeah
I suppose being a wage jockey is as good as anything,” my dad said
with a bite of disappointment in his voice.
With the turkey done the five of us all sat down at the table to eat, besides the grace that we generally only say due to the fact we feel obligated to say on the holiday, even though it isn’t a religious one, the meal started off relatively quiet, but then the inevitable happened. For anyone who has any number of brothers and sisters you know exactly what I’m talking about. At any family gathering one of the parents feels it necessary to ask how things are going to one child to the next, silently comparing the differing answers along the way, and between one brother about to graduate college with a degree in Criminal Justice and the other brother who opted move out a start a band with his high school friends in lieu of college, and having just broken up with said band. Obviously as far as stories I had the short end of the stick.
“So how’s school going?” my mother asked my brother.
“Good,” Colin said as he swallowed the turkey in his mouth. “Well I just have a few papers to work on and I’ll be done with this semester, and I already have next semester worked out, just taking the last two classes I need, but mostly I’ll be working on my thesis.”
“That’s good,” mom replied as I expected her too, and also as expected of her she turned towards me and asked, “And how are things going with your little band?”
“We’re kind of on a hiatus,” I said dancing around the subject.
“That’s not what you said in the living room,” chimed in my dad. “Said you broke up.”
“You honey I’m sorry,” my mom said with an air of fake concern, she then said what I expected her to say. “Maybe you can look into finally going to college and make yourself into something.”
“Either that or I can see about getting you a job at the mill, teach you a skill,” suggested my father.
“Oh leave the boy alone,” said grandpa, finally someone coming to my side. “If Riley wants to play the fiddle all day I say we let him.” My grandfather didn’t have as good a grip on reality as he once did.
“I just think you have a lot of potential Riley,” my mom said. “I don’t want to see you waste it.”
“I
know Mom,” I said saying what she wanted me to say. Clearly my family
thought I was wasting the past year and a half of my life, wonder if
every rocker’s parents were as supportive as mine.
After
some pie and finishing watching the Cowboys trouncing the Seahawks I
gave my mom a kiss, shook my dad’s hand and made my way back home.
It was much emptier than my parents’ place, but at least no one there
would judge me. That is there was no one there to judge me, again I
felt alone. Hopefully all that would change, I’d find a new band and
the rocking would soon recommence.
The next day, phone in hand I dialed the number from that ad. The phone rang about four times until the voice mail picked up. She had a nice sounding voice, I wonder if she’s the singer. When the beep came I hung up the phone, I don’t really like leaving messages, and in this situation I’d rather have our first contact not be from a prerecorded message. Instead I went to the kitchen and made myself a Thanksgiving leftover sandwich and went back to the couch and watch me some television. After an hour or so of that I picked up the phone and tried my luck again. After two rings the other line picked up and I was greeted with a, “Hello?”
“Hi, I’m calling about your ad looking for a bassist,” I said to her.
“Oh yeah that,” she said in a way that seemed like she had other things on her mind. “I’m kind of busy right now, Black Friday shopping and all.”
“Ah, I understand,” I let her know. Maybe I should have waited another day to call.
“But
it would be great if you could come by tomorrow around two and I’ll
see what you got.” I wrote down her address and said goodbye as she
apparently was hastily making her way towards a good buy. As I sat back
down I realized that I never actually told her my name, but she seemed
busy so I guess introductions would have to wait until tomorrow.
The next day was one of the typical cold blustery days that marked the change from Autumn to Winter, it was cold, but not cold enough that I buttoned up my duster jacket, besides I looked slightly bad ass with it open, blowing in the wind. I made my way to Sarah’s apartment building, one of those large dealies set up to look like a college dormitory, and seeing that it was smack dab in the middle of Cambridge’s college town it made sense. I entered the building and sat down in a chair in the lobby, I didn’t know what Sarah looked like, but I’m sure she’d know who I was by the bass and small amp I was carrying. I was zoning out a bit while I was waiting. I looked at my watch, five after two, any minute now.
“Riley?” said a vaguely familiar sounding voice off in the distance. I looked up and saw a cute redhead, I hope she’s Sarah. “Riley Aaronson? I would have never thought it was you who responded to my ad.” Now knowing she had to be Sarah I looked her up and down, but couldn’t remember what I knew her from. She wasn’t just a fan from the pub, if she were she’d have called me Ryle, not Riley. Then it hit me, Red hair, green eyes, green dress, cute face, she’s the girl from the prom all those years ago.
“Brookline High, Class of 2007. Cheap prom entertainment,” I said listing the few things I remembered her from. It’s been over two years since that night, nice to finally have a name to put to the face.
“There you go,” she said happily. “You do remember.”
“Well of course I did,” I said trying to cover myself.
“What are you doing looking for another band, I just saw you guys at the pub a few months ago.”
“Yeah, well I left the band a few weeks after that,” I said.
“So the article was true then,” said Sarah. “Kelsi always did have a problem overdoing it.”
“Yeah that Billy Bluejeans knew what he was talking about,” I admitted.
“Well
why don’t you come up,” suggested Sarah. So we left the lobby and
claimed the five flights of stairs up to her apartment.
Her place didn’t seem to be any bigger or smaller than mine, but at least she had a few walls separating the rooms in her apartment.
“Have a seat,” she said motioning towards the couch. I took a seat on one side of the couch, and Sarah took one on the other. I sensed a lull had come to the conversation
“So, what made you want to form a band?” I asked breaking the silence.
“I’ve always loved music, and well, I’m kind of embarrassed to admit this, especially since it’s you who’s asking,” explained Sarah. “But it was actually you and your band performing at the prom that made me want to form a band.”
“Well that’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” I said.
“No, but I still remember what I said that day, how our school must be so cheap for hiring a student band, but when I saw you guys up there I knew I was seeing a group of people who had the drive to actually go out there and do what they love, and now that I finally had the ambition to finally put an add out looking for people to form a band, who answers the add, but the person who made me want to start a band to begin with. I know it’s probably just a coincidence, but I can’t help thinking its serendipity.”
“Ok,” I said taking all of what she said in. “Now I can see how that could be embarrassing for you.”
“Um, ah, can I get you something to drink?” stammered Sarah, breaking a particularly awkward silence. “I have ice tea, orange juice, milk, water.”
“Water’s fine,” I said. Sarah then went into the kitchen and I looked around the room looking for something to spark a new conversation. Then I noticed the two, framed pieces above her television. Blown up poster-sized pints of the album covers to Eve 6’s Horrorscope and Blink 182’s self titled album. “Nice posters I said as Sarah came back into the room and handed me my water. “Nice albums too,” I added taking a sip.
“Yeah, they’re two of my favorite albums,” admitted Sarah. “Too bad they’re both broken up now.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “But give them time, they’ll be back.”
“I certainly hope so.”
“So,” I said, scanning the room again for another topic, then seeing the drum set in the corner what I said next was obvious. “So you’re a drummer?”
“Oh that?” she responded. “No, I sing. Those are my sister’s. Diane. She plays the drums in the marching band at school, but she much rather play a set like those.”
“I see,” I said continuing the conversation.
“She’s two years younger than us,” added Sarah. “So I don’t know if you know her.”
“No I don’t think so,” I said, truthfully I didn’t really know Sarah until today, but I wasn’t about to admit that.
“Well Mom and Dad rather not have them at home, so I let her keep them here,” explained Sarah.
“I see, that makes sense, band with sisters, I’ve been there before,” I said
“Yeah, I suppose you have experience with that. So what actually happened, if you mind me asking?” asked Sarah.
“Pretty much what the article said, Ayashi and Saviris just lost the initiative to get any better and Kelsi had a problem stealing the spotlight,” I casually explained, I then noticed an expression of bewilderment of Sarah’s face. “Yeah we kind of started referring to each other by our stage names. It’s seems kind of weird when you think about it, but we thought it was kind of cool. Besides does anyone even know Bono or The Edge’s real names?”
“Well, Bono is Paul David Hewson and The Edge’s real name is David Howell Evans,” replied Sarah.
“Oh, ok then,” is what came out of my mouth while in my head I was saying, how the hell do you know that? I then countered by saying, “Yeah but does anyone actually call them that?”
“Touché,” replied Sarah. “So should I call you Ryle from now on?”
“Only if you want to,” I said.
“So how come no stage name for Kelsi?” she asked.
“Well that’s an easy enough story to tell,” I began to tell. “Ego, she felt her real name was good enough, but everyone else’s name lacked a bit of flair.”
“I see,” pondered Sarah. “I never knew Kelsi had such an ego. I guess that had a lot to do with your break up.”
“Yeah that’s the main reason I left the band, but Saviris and Ayashi’s problems had a little to do with it.”
“No, I mean your break up with Kelsi,” clarified Sarah.
“Oh, what? No,” I stammered finally figuring out what Sarah meant. “We were never going out.”
“Oh, Ann then?” she asked.
“No.”
“Alice?”
“No,” I answered. “Why does everyone always think that?”
“Well you did spend all your time with them, and then moved in together after high school ended,” added Sarah.
“Yeah, I know how it seems, but nothing like that happened,” I explained. “Besides, relationships between band mates never end well, then again we broke up anyway so I guess we’ll never know, then again I wouldn’t care to find out at this point.” I could sense the mood had shifted from casual conversation to me bitching about my life. Needed to change the subject again. I glanced at a clock by the television and saw that it was already past three. “Anyway I should probably play something now,” I said while I opened my bass case. “This is an audition after all.”
“No you don’t have to do that,” explained Sarah. “I know what you can do.”
“No, no, I have to play something,” I said as I took my laptop out of the case as well.
“What’s you got there?” asked Sarah.
“I came prepared,” I explained. “I have a bunch of songs on here that have the bass track edited out, so I can play over them.”
“Ah, that’s a good idea,” she said. “I wouldn’t have thought of that.”
“Yeah well, I love the bass and all, but playing it by itself can be a bit bare,” I admitted. I then looked toward her posters and decided what to play. I plugged in my bass and clicked play on my laptop and soon Eve 6’s Jet Pack started playing. I stood there waiting for the first verse to start and instantly began playing the song’s particularly awesome bass beat. I could see Sarah nodding her head to the beat and as the second chorus came around she began to sing the lyrics in perfect synchronization with Max Collins.
“That was awesome,” Sarah joyfully said after the song was over. “Can you play another one?”
“Alright,” I said picking up my laptop, picking the next song, adding a little extra to this one, well actually subtracting. Blink 182’s Feeling This began to play, and as the guy in the background warned us to get ready for action, I started to play my part, but no lyrics came this time. I looked at Sarah and gave her a nod.
“Oh, you want me to sing?” she asked. She then picked up on the song on the beginning of the chorus. I smiled and tried not to laugh when she completely changed the tone of her voice between the parts sung by either Tom or Mark. I do that to when I’m singing along myself, except both of her voices sounded awesome.
“That was great,” I said as the song came to an end. “You have a nice voice.”
“And you’re a pretty good bassist,” Sarah added, showing a bit of color in her cheeks. “I think this is going to work out.”
“I think so,” I agreed. “We already have one thing Valefor didn’t have, a lead singer that’s not afraid to project.”
“Thank you,” Sarah said with a touch of more color on her face.
“As our lead singer you’re going to need a voice that can draw people in, like a Siren, and you certainly got that.”
“Like a Siren,” repeated Sarah. “I like the sound of that. Well now all we need is a guitarist and we’ll be set. Any ideas?”
“Hmm,” I said thinking out loud, looking at her coffee table seeing an issue of The Beantown Buzz. “I have an idea.”