“Thanks for coming to Blue Green Pink Glow! We’re Fanged Grapefruit! Are you ready to rock?”
They sure are! No prepping needed for this crowd! They’ve arrived with every intention of rocking, and they’re more than happy to answer my rhetorical question in the affirmative.
The audience is ready to rock. The band is ready to rock. Everybody is on the same page here. It’s time to get this party started!
Good luck to all of you.
I wish I knew what Blake meant by that.
“All our songs tonight are originals,” I tell the audience. “Have you ever tried to get a fish to catch popcorn in its mouth?”
I know perfectly well that they haven’t, and they know that I know. But that doesn’t stop the audience from cheering at the question. “Well, that’s what this first song is about. It’s called ‘You Can’t Train a Goldfish to Catch Popcorn in Its Mouth, So Don’t Even Try.’ One, two, three, go!”
We launch into the song, providing the audience with the raw material they needed to begin rocking. I’ve been to plenty of shows where the crowd treats the opening act as if they’re purposely delaying everybody’s fun, but not this crowd.
Good luck to all of you.
I glance around the club. I don’t see any boxes that look like they could contain sewer rats.
I flub a chord, but I don’t think anybody notices.
We’re only on our first song, and the audience loves us! Oh, how Audrey would have loved this. She will regret breaking up with me! We’ll be playing sold-out stadiums in London while she’s still in biology class, identifying spleens.
Good luck to all of you.
I need to forget about Blake. There’s simply no way he’s going to try to ruin our show. If nothing else, he knows that we’d abandon him here. You don’t sabotage somebody when they’re your ride home.
I begin singing the third verse. Then I realize that I skipped the second verse. I wish I could say that it doesn’t matter; however, these are story-driven lyrics, and I’ve left out a significant plot point. The arc of the fish and the feeder won’t make sense now.
The audience is still rocking out, but I notice Clarissa giving me a funny look. It’s okay. Punk rock is supposed to be rough around the edges, and only a few people were recording us with their cell phones.
The crowd’s berserkity (This should also be a word.) increases as we do the big finish. Performance glitches aside, this is still the most receptive audience we’ve ever had.
“Thank you!” I say. “It’s an honor to open for Fist Knuckles!”
The audience cheers at the name of the headliner. This is a common technique in the world of entertainment. If there is a more popular act playing later in the evening at the same venue, you mention them by name. This will cause the audience to react in a positive manner. Their response is goodwill toward the more popular act, but since you’re onstage at the time, you’re the recipient of the enthusiasm. It’s win-win. If you go into the performing arts, I highly recommend this move.
We begin our second song.
Good luck to all of you.
Enough! I need to get Blake out of my head before I completely mess up my guitar playing like I just did.
We play our entire half-hour set. Here are some important details:
1. In terms of the size and enthusiasm of the crowd, it’s the best show Fanged Grapefruit has ever done. And I don’t think Blake bribed them, which makes it even more satisfying.
2. It is the best show Mel has ever played. His guitar playing is flawless. His energy level is amazing. His background vocals support my lead vocals in a way they’ve never been supported before.
3. It is the best show Clarissa has ever played. I’ve always been impressed by her drumming skills, but tonight it’s like she’s the human equivalent of an electronic drum machine. Actually, that’s the worst possible description. She is raw and unplugged. Suffice it to say, she was awesome.
Before we move on to item #4, let’s recap the first three.
1. Best Fanged Grapefruit show.
2. Best Mel show.
3. Best Clarissa show.
And now on to the fourth detail.
4. I mess up. A lot.
Does the audience notice? I don’t think so. But Mel and Clarissa definitely notice. I fumble through some of my audience banter. I play quite a few wrong notes, and I screw up the lyrics on several occasions. I’m not saying that my performance was a complete disaster. Most of the time, my playing and singing were really good. But yeah, I play like it was like a practice session instead of a real show.
And, no, Blake didn’t pull any stunts.
Unless you count making me so paranoid that he was going to sabotage the show that it impacted my music.
I’ll count that.
23.
The four of us sit in the greenroom after the show, eating apples.
“That was fantastic,” says Blake.
“I want to move here,” says Mel. “I want to drop out of school and play here every night.” (Important note to students: Mel is kidding. Do not drop out of school.)
“Best show we’ve had yet,” says Clarissa.
“Yep,” I say.
Everybody crunches their bites of apple. The other four members of Fist Knuckles congratulated us on a job well done, which was one of the greatest honors of our lives. (At the time, the lead singer could not be found, though he was located a couple of blocks away and brought back in time for them to take the stage.) We can hear them playing now, and as soon as we finish our apples, we’re going out to watch.
“So, Rod…” says Mel.
“Yes?”
“What happened?”
I shrug. “Nerves, I guess.”
“You’ve never had nerves like that before.”
“I know,
