I’m with the Band
By Melanie Brown
Copyright © 2005
Part 1
“Fuck!” My brother John’s fists slammed the table hard
enough to cause some of my Cheerios and milk to jump from the bowl to the table
top.
“Hey! Watch it!” I yelled, staring at my upset breakfast.
“What do you think you’re doing?!”
“Quit whining, doofus. I have bigger things to cry
about than your spilt milk.” John dropped into a chair at the kitchen table
and glowered at nothing in particular.
From the living room, Mom called out, “John! We don’t
use language like that in this house!”
Scowling, John yelled, “Sorry Mom!” Then to me, he
added more quietly, “What are you looking at, butthead?”
I took another bite of my increasingly soggy Cheerios
before answering. “I just want to know why you suddenly have a bug up your
butt.” I brushed a long strand of hair from my face.
“Aww…I just got off the phone with Fritz.” Fritz was
John’s oldest and best friend. His name wasn’t really Fritz. It was Fred.
But when they were kids, they’d decided that Fred was a name for losers, so he
started calling himself Fritz and it stuck.
Fritz and John had had a garage band called “John
Gray’s Band” since middle school and it was starting to gain popularity in the
region. John talked Mom into being the manager. They used my brother’s name
for the band since they started it in our garage. John and Fritz are both eighteen
and out of high school. At four years younger, I still have quite a bit of
school to go.
“And?” I prodded.
“Michelle just dumped Sammy. Could she have picked a
worse time!?” John scowled fiercely at the stove. Michelle was the band’s
lead singer. Sammy was the bass player and had twisted John’s arm to let
Michelle join them. John had been the lead singer at first. After Michelle had
joined, the band’s popularity took off. And it wasn’t just because she was
such a good singer (and to give her credit, she is good), she was real easy to
look at as well.
Looking up from my breakfast bowl, I said, “Well that
sure sucks! She was hot! How could Sammy be so stupid?” John just shook his
head and I continued, “Why is it a bad time? I can think of several cute girls
that would love to join your band.”
Continuing his study of the stove, John said, “Oh
yeah, if all we needed was eye candy, there’s plenty of girls to choose from.”
Lowering his voice and looking over at me, he continued, “But dammit Mike, we
need Michelle! She could sing – better than I can. That’s what that talent
scout guy liked about us. He thought we had a good sound when we sang
together. And, it’s a bad time because we’re supposed to be making our demo
next Saturday morning! We don’t have time to find another girl who can sing as
good as Michelle and rehearse with her before we make the demo. Our one shot to
get out of this crummy town and it’s already gone.”
Taking a bite of my soggy cereal, I said, “Well John,
as Dad is always fond of saying, ‘If you really want something, you’ll do what
you need to do to get there’.”
Frowning, John said as he stood up, “That’s easy for
Dad to say. All he ever wanted to do was sell insurance.” John always had a
little trouble with Dad and I never fully understood why. I got along with Dad
okay. But they always seem to rub each other the wrong way. It didn’t help
that John was always doing stuff to irritate Dad – stuff like drag racing the
car and crashing to piercing my ears with a straight pin.
* * *
I was at my usual station; manning the tape deck to
record the rehearsal session. The rest of John’s band, minus Michelle had
gathered in our garage.
Fritz was in a foul mood. “Shit man! Why even
bother?” Fritz shot a searing glance toward Sammy and continued, “Without that
bitch we’re screwed. Why bother practicin’ for the demo if we don’t have her?
I think we ought to kick Sammy out and talk Michelle into coming back!”
Sammy shouted, “Hey asshole! It wasn’t like, my idea
that she left me, okay?”
“Hey! Knock it off, guys!” shouted John. “That’s not
doing us any good. We can practice without her. Maybe we can lay down a
girl’s track or something after we record our part.”
They finished setting up. From the mock stage (a
masking tape outline on the garage floor), John looked over at me and said, “Okay
Mike. Start the tape.”
I made a final check of the hook ups and started the
tape recording. A moment later, the band started the intro. The band really
did have a good sound and the song they were going to use for the demo, written
by John and Fritz, showcased their talents well. As they sang, the gaps where Michelle’s
voice was supposed to be were very obvious. About halfway through the song,
John stopped and motioned for the rest to stop as well.
“This ain’t workin’ guys.” John said as he set his
guitar on the floor. “It just ain’t workin’.”
Fritz sat down on one of the boxes store in the garage
and said, “Didn’t I just try to tell you that? We’re screwed man. We’re just
plain fucked.”
Juan, the drummer who usually doesn’t say much of
anything said, “Hey, if all you guys are gonna to do is sit around and bitch,
I’m goin’ home.” He cast a glance around the room.
John frowned. “Might as well. I don’t think anything
is going to happen tonight.” He pulled the plug from his guitar.
As they started to break everything down, I said,
“John? Why don’t you let me sing Michelle’s part? I know all the words and
that way you’ll have another voice to sing against. You’ve heard me. I can
sing. That way you can at least get your practice in.”
John shook his head. “Don’t be stupid. Just stack
the speakers against the wall over there for me, okay?”
Sammy said, “Wait John. Let the kid sing. We’re
here. We’re set up. Let’s have a session. We’ll find a new girl before
Saturday.”
Fritz looked over at John and said, “Hey, it couldn’t
hurt. I mean, what the hell?”
I could tell John didn’t like the idea since I’d been
badgering him to let me in the band for months. Finally he shrugged and said,
“Okay, yeah. What the hell. Come on, Mike get over here. Just don’t screw up,
okay?”
I didn’t need to be asked twice. I jumped up and ran
to the microphone that Michelle usually used. Fritz said, “Okay, let’s do it.”
The band started playing and I suddenly felt a wave of
nervousness wash over me. There was no one watching us in the garage, but I
felt a sudden embarrassment and the song’s lyrics left my head. I pushed down
the panic and listened for the cue from John. The moment I heard it, I started
singing without thinking about it. Fritz and Sammy kept giving me curious
looks during the song. I thought it was for the couple of times I know I went
flat.
When we finished, Fritz pointed at me and said, “Mike,
play the tape back. I want to hear that.”
I stopped the recording and rewound the tape back a
ways. After a few moments of trying to find the right spot, we heard the band
start to play. Everyone just sat there and listened. When the song ended, I
hit the stop button on the tape recorder.
Sammy said, “Did you guys hear that? That was great!
John, your brother sings just as good as Michelle. That’s amazing.”
Fritz added, “And if I didn’t know better, I would
have sworn that was a chick singing.” Fritz punched John in the shoulder and
said, “John, we can still make our demo!”
John looked horrified. “Are you mental? I’m not
letting my brother sing on the demo!”
Sammy said, “Why not, John? Didn’t you hear the
tape? I thought he was perfect.”
“The record company is only interested in us because
we had a girl. They want to see a girl in the band!” complained John.
Fritz said, “So? We use Mike to make the demo; then
we find a girl later.”
John scratched the back of his head. “I dunno, guys.
It’s my brother we’re talking about. He’s just a kid.”
Fritz said, “I’m not saying to put him in the band.”
He looked over at me. “Sorry kid. Nothing personal.” Looking back at John,
he continued, “But he can get us through the demo. That’s all we need.”
Sounding irritated, John continued to protest, “How do
you propose to explain the fact that he’s not a girl?”
Looking irritated himself, Fritz almost shouted,
“John! I know you don’t want your little brother in the band, but really, who
the fuck cares? We’re not making a movie, man! It’s just sound! They’ll hear
a girl, that’s all.”
John hesitated. “Well…”
Juan said, “Sounds like a plan to me, guys. Let’s do
it.”
“So it’s a plan!” declared Sammy. “I mean, what could
go wrong, huh?”
Fritz laughed. “Well for one thing, Mike’s voice
might change between now and Saturday!”
While the others were laughing, I glared at John. He
shot back a look that’s usually accompanied by the words “Hey man, how many
times do I have to say I’m sorry?!”
The others didn’t know, but when I was around eight
years old, John was playing with a bow and arrow he’d gotten for his birthday from
our uncle in New Mexico. John was goofing around, spinning around while
looking down the shaft of the arrow. As luck would have it, his fingers
slipped just as the arrow was pointed towards me and he wound up shooting me in
the groin. Not only did I almost die from bleeding, but my never-even-used
testicles had to be removed. Fritz didn’t have to worry about my voice
changing…
* * *
I was sitting at the kitchen table with a comic book
when Mom walked in. The comic book was open, but I was staring at the wall instead.
Mom said, “What’s up, Mikey? You look bothered about
something.” She sat down next to me.
I just shrugged and said, “I dunno.”
Mom frowned slightly. “Come on, Michael. I can
always tell when something is bothering you. What’s going on?”
I sat up in my chair, but starting idly flipping the
pages of the comic book. “It’s about John’s band.”
Smiling, Mom said, “I heard the CD you guys made this
morning. It was very good. You sounded wonderful!”
Twisting my face almost into a scowl, I said, “I
sounded like a girl, Mom. That’s the only reason they wanted me to sing with
them. ‘Cause I sounded like a dumb girl!”
Allowing herself to look slightly annoyed, Mom said,
“I’m a girl. Do you think I’m dumb?”
I gave her a sideways glance. “You know what I mean,
Mom. The guys in the band didn’t want me to sing because I’m better than John
(and I am, you know.) They wanted me just because I sounded like a girl.”
Sheepishly, Mom said, “Yes Mike, I know. And I’m
sorry. I wish you hadn’t had the accident. We probably should have started
you on HRT before now.”
Shaking my head, I said, “No, Mom. It’s not really
that…much. It’s because they wanted me for the wrong reason. And they don’t
want me to stay!”
“Honey, it’s not that big of a deal.” Mom said.
“You’re fourteen. I think that’s kind of young to be touring around the
country with a rock band anyway. You should at least finish school first
before you go off joining bands.”
After a pause, I asked, “Do you think I should go
ahead and sing on the demo? Or should I force John to go find a real girl?”
Mom shrugged. “I’m not going to force you to sing. And
I’m not going to tell John you can’t. But don’t you want John to be
successful? I doubt they could make that demo without you.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right Mom.” I said. “And I
don’t think the band will be around much longer anyway.”
Sitting up, Mom asked, “Oh? Why do you say that?”
“I think Fritz is getting bored with the whole thing,
unless they hit it big with the demo. Juan is talking about going to college
in the fall.” I rested my chin on the table and sighed.
Mom said, “Then this could be your one and only chance
to sing in the band, huh?”
* * *
It was a cool, rainy Saturday morning as we turned
into the parking lot of the recording studio. Sammy parked the van outside the
rear entrance. After we unloaded all our instruments, he’d drive back around
to the front. The studio wasn’t much and didn’t exactly have the newest
equipment. But we were lucky to have one in town and it was certainly good
enough to make a demo.
While the guys were setting up, I wandered around the
studio. Tony Soto, the studio owner, suddenly came around a corner while I was
looking at some equipment. “Hey, what are you doing here?”
Startled, I pointed at John and the others and quietly
said, “I’m with the band.”
Tony looked where I was pointing, grunted and headed
over to John. I kept looking at all the stuff in the studio, but over my
shoulder I heard Tony say to John, “Look, I got some paying customers coming in
here at ten. That gives you an hour to get set up, do one take and get the
hell out of here.”
Looking around at the expectant young faces, Tony
seemed to soften slightly as he continued, “Mr. Rubins can’t be here to watch
you guys record, but I’ll make two copies of the demo. One for you and one to
send to him in California so he can pitch it to his contact.” Doug Rubins was
the talent scout that heard us play one night and asked us to make a demo for
him.
Sounding annoyed Fritz said, “He’s not here? Just
great. I bet we never hear from him again!”
Tony glowered at Fritz. “Hey kid. I’ve known Mr. Rubins
for a long time. He does what he says he’s going to do. I know he’ll do what
he can to get you in. Just remember there ain’t no guarantees.”
John raised his voice and said, “Quit jackin’ around
guys. Let’s get ‘er done.”
* * *
I was amazed. We performed the song almost
perfectly. We had enough time for two takes and Tony promised he’d send Tony
the best one.
As I was helping John coil up the cables, I heard Tony
call out from the other room, “Sammy. What’s the name of your girlfriend
again?”
Sammy was about to exit the studio back door, helping
Juan with his drums. Without hesitation he called back, “Michelle!” Then he
was out the door. I looked back to Tony. He looked like he was jotting down
some notes.
After waiting a bit, Tony came out and walked up to
John. He looked around at all of us and said, “Great session! Here’s your
CD. I also video taped the session. I’ll overnight a CD and the video to Mr. Rubins.
Don’t forget about me when you’re famous, okay?” Tony grinned. Something told
me he said that to every garage band that made a demo there.
As we piled back into the van, Fritz let out a primal
yell. As he plopped down into one of the van’s seats, he exclaimed, “All right
guys! I’m really jazzed! That was the best we’ve ever sounded. I think we
have a real shot at this. I really do!” He leaned back with a goofy look on
his face.
Sammy navigated the van back into traffic. He said,
“Fritz, don’t forget about that thing about counting your chickens and shit. I
don’t want to set my self up for massive disappointment.”
Fritz shook his head. “No man. This is it! I can
feel it. We’re going to the top!”
John said, “In that case, Fritz, we need to recruit a
new girl pretty fast. We might hear something by the end of next week.”
I suddenly thought of something. “John?”
“Yeah?” John didn’t even turn around.
“Did I hear Tony say he was sending a video tape along
with the CD?”
“Shit man, I don’t know. I wasn’t really listening.
I’m too jazzed.”
* * *
It was Wednesday night and the fourth girl to audition
had just left. Fritz sat down on the cold garage floor and said, “Well, she
was damned good looking, but man! She couldn’t sing worth shit!”
Sammy plunked out a scale on his unplugged guitar and
said, “We gotta find one soon. Time could be running out.”
The garage door to the house opened and Mom popped her
head out. “John, there’s a call for you. It’s Mr. Rubins.” We all sat there
and stared blankly at each other for a moment or two, and then we all scrambled
for the door.
“Mom, can we use the speaker phone in Dad’s office?”
blurted John as he bounded through the door.
Mom stood back and said, “I don’t see why not. Is
this the call you’ve been expecting?”
John was already down the hall. Yelling over his
shoulder he said, “We sure hope it is, Mom!”
We all piled into Dad’s office and John hit the button
on the phone to turn on the speaker. John, trying to catch his breath, said,
“Mr. Rubins! Hello! We’re all here. How’s it going?”
A tinny version of Mr. Rubins voice rattled the
speaker as he said, “I’ve got great news guys! They loved it! They really
loved the demo Tony sent. You sounded very professional. I got the CD and
video tape Monday afternoon. I met my contact for lunch and played him the
demo. He took the CD and video to play for his bosses. They called late this
afternoon. They definitely want to see you guys and re-record the song at
their studios. They’re also very interested in the girl…ah…Michelle.”
“Girl?” asked John. “What girl?”
“The girl in the video…the girl who you sang with you on
the song.” Mr. Rubins said, sounding irritated. “They loved her voice and
thought she had the perfect look for the demographic they want to aim the song
at.”
Fritz said, “That wasn’t a girl, Mr. Rubins. That was
John’s brother.”
Mr. Rubins sounded annoyed. “Well, when you come out
here, you’d better bring the girl they saw and heard in the video, or you can
probably forget about any deals.”
“Hey, no problem, Mr. Rubins.” said John quickly.
Shifting gears, Mr. Rubins said, “Good. Hey, I know
your mother is currently your manager. I’m going to send her some documents to
sign. Nothing against Mrs. Gray, John, but you really should consider getting
an agent and a manager with more recording industry experience. I don’t want
you guys getting taken to the cleaners. I can recommend one or two for you if
you want.”
The rest of the call was mostly between Mom and Mr. Rubins.
While they were talking, the rest of us had sat down in the living room, with
everyone talking excitedly. Everyone but me.
After a few minutes, Mom came into the living room
herself. “Okay everyone!” she started. “We need to be in L.A two weeks from
today with our meeting with the execs at nine
o’clock the next morning. I agreed with
Mr. Rubins that you need a more professional agent. I’m going to keep being
your manager for now, though. He’s going to play your demo for a couple of
them that he thinks might be interested. I’m beginning to think Mr. Rubins is
more than just some talent scout.”
Sammy yelled out “L.A. here we come!”
Everyone let out a few yells. Everyone but me.
John looked over at me and said, “Mike, man, what’s
wrong? Aren’t you the least excited about this?”
I folded my arms. “No, I’m not. They think I’m a
girl.” I picked up one of the faxes Mr. Rubins had sent Mom. “Look right
here…it says ‘Michelle Gray’. Look…Michael was crossed out and Michelle was
written above it. What’s up with that?”
Sammy snapped his fingers. “That’s what that was!
Tony’s never met Michelle, but had heard of her. He asked me the name of my
girlfriend, not the name of geekwad here.” He pointed at me. “I was so used to
saying ‘Michelle’, that I didn’t even think about it.
I said, “Well, what are we going to do about it? They
want a girl. I’m not a girl. Not by any stretch.”
John shook his head. “We’ll figure something out,
Mike. Don’t worry.”
* * *
End of Part 1
since 04/11/05