After a day or two, Jake noted that the music store attracted a wide and varied clientele. Trade was brisk and, after his appearance on stage with Three Dead Mice, word spread that Jake Power from Silver Lake was hanging out in the shop. Initially being confronted by Silver Lakers looking for guitar advice unnerved Jake but Garrett swiftly put him straight suggesting, “Run a daily guitar clinic for a week. One-hour sessions. Vary the theme. Acoustic. Electric. They’re going to come in so you might as well structure it like you would a lesson in the classroom, son.”
Reluctantly, Jake agreed to run five sessions then see how things felt after that. They restricted the sessions to ten people, purely based on the fact that that was the maximum number of people who could be comfortably squeezed into the recessed area usually reserved for acoustic instruments. After the first couple of classes, Jake confessed to the older musician that he was enjoying the sessions. With a smile, Garrett agreed that so was he as takings for the week were up by fifty per cent.
As Jake was winding up the third session, he was aware of being watched. Looking up, he saw Jethro standing at the back of the group. Briefly, they made eye contact and the Silver Lake manager nodded his approval towards Jake. The workshop centred around transposing the music for electric versions to acoustic versions of songs. In front of him, the ten musicians hung on his every word.
“Allow me to demonstrate,” began Jake, reaching for one of the shop’s PRS guitars. “Are you guys familiar with Depths?”
Not surprisingly, all of them were.
“Good,” declared Jake as he adjusted the guitar’s tuning. “Then you’ll be familiar with this.”
Without hesitation, he played the intro, first verse and chorus of the hard and heavy Silver Lake fan favourite. In front of him, the group began to nod. Deciding to push it, Jake executed the song’s complex solo then played a reprise of the chorus.
As he sat the guitar back down on its stand, his ten students applauded him.
“Now, how well do you think that translates into an acoustic song?”
“No way!” declared one more mature musician. “Not even you can make that work.”
“You sure about that?” teased Jake with a wink towards Jethro, who had moved closer while he’d played.
Throughout the workshops, Jake had been playing a Martin acoustic and, as he lifted it from its stand, he smiled. There was something about that particular guitar that was talking to him and he knew in his heart that he’d soon be talking money with Garrett. Settling the guitar on his lap, Jake began to play the more tortured, haunting version of Depths. Unable to help himself, he started to sing, much to the delight of his small select audience. They sat enchanted by his impromptu solo acoustic performance, each of them hanging on his every word.
When the song ended, Jake sat back with head bowed while the students applauded him for a second time.
“And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how it’s done,” he said calmly. “I took the liberty of writing out the music for both versions for you and ran off a few copies. Feel free to lift one and hopefully it will let you see what I’ve been trying to describe for the last hour.
“Hey, Jake,” called out an older man, who had been to all three sessions. “You’ve still got five minutes. Play another one.”
Hesitating for a moment, Jake debated whether to acquiesce then slowly began to play Stronger Within. It was the first acoustic song that came to mind but playing it, knowing how things were between him and Lori, tore at his heart. Keeping his gaze lowered, avoiding eye contact with the class, he somehow made it through the song. As the last note faded out, Jake cleared his throat and said, “Thanks, folks.”
A fresh round of applause interrupted him and he felt his cheeks flush as he gazed round the group.
“Thank you,” repeated Jake smiling. “Ok, tomorrow’s workshop will be at ten-thirty. There’s still a couple of slots left and we’ll be covering off more vocal techniques than playing techniques. If you want to put your name down on the guest list, see Garrett on the way out,”
“Great session, Jake,” complimented his regular member of class. “See you again tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Jerry. See you at ten thirty sharp.”
Once the last of the students had departed, Jake began to idly improvise on the acoustic guitar. For a few minutes, Jethro stood watching and listening in silence before asking, “How are you, son?”
“Been better,” confessed Jake without looking up. “Missing my wife and my kids. Missing my home and the ocean.”
“I know,” sympathised Jethro sincerely.
“Have you seen them?”
The band’s manager shook his head, “Sorry. I’ve been in London for the last week. Lord Jason summoned me.”
“Trouble?”
“Nothing Maddison and I can’t handle,” assured the older man calmly. “The suits are getting nervous that the band haven’t named a new guitarist yet. Think I’ve calmed those stormy waters for now.”
“Still feels wrong to replace him,” sighed Jake, his voice barely more than a whisper.
“I know,” said Jethro. “I’ve bought you a little more time but they need a name before the album comes out. They want a name confirmed before Thanksgiving.”
“That’s only five weeks away,” protested Jake sharply.
“Their counter-argument is that it’s been almost five months. With a new album comes
