Saturday Blast From The Past-Iron Fist

Iron Fist



"Aren't you even a little bit excited?"

"Excited to get it over with is all," Lisa said as she lifted a bit of Chef's Salad to her lips.

"But it's Iron Fist! They're huge. C'mon, you must be a little bit into it?" Jenny asked.

Lisa set her fork on the edge of her plate and said, "They're loud. They're metal. But music they are not. What's exciting about loud for the sake of loud without even the hope of melody the whole night?" She paused to dab at the corners of her mouth with the napkin before continuing. "I'll just be glad when it's over. Maestro said it's so we can expand our audience. He thinks we can maybe draw in some of the younger crowd this way. Like they can even appreciate what we do, or even hear what we do for that matter."

"Lisa, you need to loosen up a little bit, this might be good for you."

"Good for me? This will be about as good for me as sitting on the runway at O'Hare."

"Then why do it?"

"I've worked hard to make it to second chair and if I have any hope of making it to first chair I need to do whatever Maestro says," Lisa spoke the last words as her gaze drifted past Jenny and out the window.

Jenny gave Lisa's arm a playful shake and said, "Well, try to have some fun anyway."

"I'll have fun when this is all behind me."

"Well, I think it's cool and I wouldn't miss it for the world. And I'll be sure to take pictures. No one would believe me otherwise."

"Great. Thanks. A lot."

"Hey, what are sisters for anyway? Look, I have to go. Thanks for lunch. Cheer up, I think you'll look good in leather," Jenny said as she rose.

Lisa threw her crumpled napkin as a reply but she couldn't hide a smile. She loved her sister although she never could quite understand her. She watched Jenny bop out of the restaurant and thought how Jenny was so much like their mother, living moment to moment. Jenny just followed her desires with no real planning, no real forethought, just jumping in with both feet come what may.

In the cab she felt a little of the sadness she sometimes felt after being with her sister. She reminded herself of the times she had employed spontaneity in her life, tried to convince herself that she wasn't too set in her ways. Then she was a bit peeved at herself for feeling the need to justify and rationalize. Her last thought of the cycle before paying the driver was no, she wasn't missing out.

After her shower she began her pre-show warm up. She started with the major scales, three times up and back in each key, just like always. As she did she thought of Jenny's question at lunch, why do it. Because Lisa wanted first chair, not in a greedy way but as a goal to achieve, a goal to work towards. Each time the tryouts came around she hoped but always the same. She began the minor scales, three times up and back. After all, didn't she practice everyday? Warm up before every show? And yet Maestro continues to maintain that she lacks a certain passion. She couldn't understand him. She worked so hard.

Lisa grabbed a quick bite, which she found difficult to finish, then headed out with her cello. In the cab she reflected on the two rehearsals they had with the band last week. She couldn't imagine how they were going to pull this off. They set up in an old warehouse that the band rented and ran through the songs. The charts, such as they were, were like none she'd seen. Nowhere could she find any sort of melody. The chords were simplistic and few, everything so staccato like she were typing a letter. She remembered after the first few songs how thin the band sounded in comparison to the orchestra. She couldn't imagine how this was all going to blend together. The band members, looking like they just rolled out of bed in the same clothes they went into bed with, seemed happy about it. It just reinforced her opinion that they have no real clue about music. Oh well, she told herself, it's a long climb to first chair.

She got to the arena and headed to the stage. Stagehands were everywhere--hanging lights and running cables--it seemed like the ultimate chaos. She noticed that there was a whole crate full of nothing but duct tape. The tattooed roadie who saw her looking at it said, "It ain't rock and roll without duct tape." Then he held up his pointer and pinky and hung out his tongue. He turned and headed towards the stage. She stared after him for a moment then made her way to the stage and found her place. Fortunately Trish, the other second chair, was already there. As she set up her music stand Trish was all smiles, "Isn't this awesome Lees?"

"Yeah, great."

"Awe c'mon, this will be fun, you'll see. Check out the bass player, what an ass," Trish said while looking right straight at it with one raised eyebrow.

"Trish!"

Trish just shrugged, "You know, when in Rome..."

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Lisa said with a shake of her head.

The band finally rolled in and the stage manager came up. "People. We're going to run through two tunes to start with. Lets do Lick This and then we'll go right into Spank My Naughty Ass. Just like at rehearsal."

Lick This started with just the orchestra, they built it up for a few measures then the drums came in. Lisa was a bit taken back by the volume. She looked over at Trish who was clearly enjoying this. After the thin sound at the rehearsals she wasn't prepared for how loud this was. Not loud in a piercing sense but loud with a lot of sound pressure. By the time they went into Spank her ears were starting to adjust and she could start to hear herself better and even hear some of the other symphony members. This was going to be a long night she thought.

After their second time through Lick This the stage manager came back on stage. He spoke like someone accustomed to speaking over loud noises. "Thanks you guys, that ought to do it. Please be back here by eight tonight. Don't forget your passes, we'd hate to loose half our symphony because they couldn't get past security. Any questions? Right then, later."

"Oh my God Trish, I think I'll have permanent damage to my ears."

"It goes away," Trish said with a wave. "Tonight before we start they'll have music playing through the system. As it gets closer to show time they'll keep eking up volume to get every ones ears acclimated to it. Plus there will be thousands of people here to absorb a lot of the harshest parts."

"You sound like you've done this before?" Lisa asked.

"Hey, I like all different types of music. It helps me to look at what we do differently. I try to go to different types of shows and try and find the talent in it all. Some of what they do isn't as easy as you would think, just look at that drummer. When I go back to playing what we play I feel like I'm coming home. You should check it out some time, you don't know what you're missing."

"I think I have a pretty good idea now," Lisa said as she put her sheet music back in its protective cover.

"Well anyway, I'll see you tonight, and cheer up it'll be a blast!"

"I wish I could share your enthusiasm," she said as she shook her head.

Lisa arrived back at the arena and wished she would have come a little earlier, it was a sea of people everywhere. Trish was one big smile when she sat down. Lisa liked Trish mainly because of her resemblance to Jenny, she had that same sparkling-cider enthusiasm. She was glad for Trish's presence too. She had a case of nerves, which caught her off guard. This was a large crowd but she had played large crowds before. This one was different than the crowds she was used to--there seemed to be an underlying danger somehow. The only thing she could equate it to was the trip she took to Africa. They spent three days in the game preserve. For the most part they were safe but the animals were always a step away, and the possibility of primal violence never far.

"The bass player's wearing leather. Oh yeah baby!" Trish squealed.

"You're too much." Lisa said with a smile and a roll of the eyes.

The canned music stopped, the lights went down and the curtains went up. The roar of people was deafening. The audience was a sea of lights. Everyone held a lighter up in the air and screamed. Just when she thought it couldn't get louder the band walked out. The crowd redoubled their screams. Then the guitar started its long howling feedback. The strings section kicked in. Then the rest of the band launched into a thunder like none she'd ever heard. This wasn't anything like rehearsal, not even like sound check. Insanely loud, yes, but there was a fullness to it that almost cradled her and that caught her off guard.

For Lisa the typical view of a performance was an elegant symphony hall filled with nicely dressed people sitting with their legs crossed. They listened politely to every note and wouldn't even dream of applauding until the last strains of notes drifted away. But here, the crowd was frenzied, they screamed. They raised their fists. Some even crashed into each other...on purpose. And they liked it. The drums produced a thunder that shook the inside of her bones. The band was fully awake now, no longer the sleepy looking rag bags she saw this afternoon. They were in control of all. They were gods to this crowd and the crowd worshipped them the only way they knew how. They screamed and screamed. The band wasn't just standing there either, they ran, they jumped, they fell to their knees never once missing a note.

Lisa found that she was being caught up in this swirling vortex of sound. The power of it all. She saw sweat fly in every direction away from the drummer as he sat perched on the edge of his butt cheeks, both feet and arms flailing. She felt as though her hair were standing straight up. She had goose bumps all over. They moved from one song to the next seemingly without any transition. She was no longer aware of Trish, of Maestro, or of the notes on the page. The notes began to flow from within her. She became one with her cello. She dug in like never before. Before the night was half over a lot of the hairs of her bow were busted and hanging from one end flying in the breeze created by the giant fans on the side of the stage. The lights swirled into each other and joined with the music to paint one full picture. She gripped the cello between her legs with more force than ever. Her dress was plastered to her back, soaked in sweat. She threw her head back in ecstasy. This was a depth of music she'd never felt. This isn't supposed to be happening she heard a small voice in her mind say, but she didn't listen. Instead she dug in harder and harder. The thunder flowed through her to places she didn't know she had. There was no longer any thinking of music, only feeling, pure and wonderful feeling. She rode the crest of the wave all the way to the end.

She rode home in the cab with the echoes of the crowds and guitars in her ears. She couldn't quite remove the whole smile from her face, she felt drained of everything, almost post-orgasmic. She watched the buildings pass by as she lounged, head back on the seat. In her head she listened again as she played things she didn't know she could play. Felt the notes pass through her, resonating, flowing out from her in tidal swells. She remembered the image of her shredded bow and decided it didn't really matter. She was surprised to find the cab had stopped. Paid the driver and walked up to her apartment in a trance. As relaxed as she felt she found it difficult to sleep but eventually did, impressions of the show right on the edge of thought.

***

Lisa bounded into the kitchen to answer the phone. "Hello?"

"Hey Lees, it's Greg. How's it going?"

Lisa headed towards the fridge, newspaper clipping from last springs Iron Fist gig still hanging on the door, and grabbed a mineral water, "Oh hey Greg, going good. In fact it's going extremely well. I finally got it!"

"First chair? Congratulations! You must be so excited. I know you've wanted this for a long time."

"Thanks Greg. I still can't believe it myself, I feel like I'm walking on clouds."

"So what'd Maestro say?"

"Well, he said that in the past few months I've started to show a passion in my music that had been lacking."

"Well that's awesome! How about I take you out to dinner for a little celebration?"

"Sorry Greg, maybe another time. Iron Fist is in town and I have tickets. Front row."

Originally published in Prose Toad (c)2005