Street Find Ch. 05-06

Rollie had the intro down pat, with Al giving him a solid backing on his Fender. The backup keyboards were Fran's and I was going to sing only since Thad was on bass for this number. Stan, Bud and Al gave us a few bars to get ready for the intro. I could see the girls were all ready to go, so with Gina handling the first few bars, I was as ready as I was ever going to be.

We got about one minute into the number when Gina turned around to Stan and hollered "Hold it." She was red-faced and really angry at something. When everyone had quit playing, she stomped toward me and began to yell.

"You call that singing, Ed? That was shit! Pure unadulterated shit! I've heard five-year-olds put more effort into singing than that. Now either you get your head out of your ass or I'm walking. I refuse to be a part of a group who allows someone like you to sit on the sidelines while all the others take the risk."

Her face was still red and I didn't have any doubt she was both angry and truthful. I really didn't want to risk embarrassing myself with my singing, so I tried to slough it off with half a voice. Gina had me dead to rights. I looked over at Fran and she had her arms folded over her chest accompanied by a stern look on her face. I looked around at the band members and they seemed to be in a state of shock, pretty much similar to mine. I was on my own by the look of it.

I sighed and surrendered. I may break some of the very few windows in the warehouse, but when I was done, no one could say I didn't try. The last thing I wanted to do was to lose my growing relationship with Gina.

"Alright. Why don't we take it from the top," I said, looking at Gina and seeing a self-satisfied smirk.

Stan smacked his cowbell to count out the rhythm and Thad began the low bass line intro, while Al picked it up two bars later. "Well, she asked for it, so here goes," I thought. I took a deep breath and readied myself for my first line. I hit my spot and just let go and almost hollered the first few lines. I must have had my eyes closed, because when I finally got around to seeing the reaction of the band, I was mystified. They were all watching me and smiling. Hell, Gina was smiling. And so was Fran. What the hell?

There was no point in stopping now, I just kept on with what I was singing, hopefully in something approximating the right key. When it was time for Bud's guitar break, a smiling Gina came to me and planted a very nice kiss on my lips.

"I knew you could," she grinned. "I just knew it." Then, in an unexpected moment, she kissed me again. Not just a peck on the lips, but a full-fledged scorcher.

I guess the reaction of Gina was all it took to give me some confidence. But along with the confidence, I was beginning to wonder ... maybe even hope ... that our relationship had changed into something more personal.

By the time we got to the last chorus, Gina was face to face with me, singing to me as I was to her. It felt good. It felt damn good. She was right. I had to suck it up and take a chance. Maybe there was a larger reward yet to come.

That was the beginning of a new set of songs for us. Stan and the others all agreed that I had the ability to sing with some authority. He was fully prepared to have this song on our weekend play list. If Stan thought it was okay, then it must have been okay. I wished I had a recording of it so I had some idea of how I sounded. As far as Gina was concerned, all was forgiven. I was never sure afterward if her tirade was an act or was straight from the heart. She sure as hell convinced me she was genuinely angry. But the kiss let me know that the anger wasn't lasting.

We ran through the song a couple of more times, adding some bits and modifying others, but nothing that involved the lyrics or me. I grabbed a water bottle because after a number of times through, I could feel my throat beginning to get hoarse. Luckily, I wasn't required to use as much power on any of the other songs.

One thing was obvious, Gina had taken a leadership role in song selection and styling. She was a very gifted young lady, with more dimensions than her amazing physical beauty or her voice. She could hear how we might sound on a particular sound and that was a gift. She orchestrated a duet that she and Fran had worked up on Bartender, another Lady Antebellum number. We couldn't expect nor want to copy the original. The girls had worked up the duet with Gina getting a lot more out of Fran's voice that normal. Maybe she gave her the same speech she gave me. Somehow I doubted it.

They ran through it a couple of times before they came to me and said they wanted me to back them up. They wanted more vocal depth, they said. Okay, I could do that. They told me where they wanted me to come in and what kind of delivery they expected. Well, now there was no doubt about who the leader was. We gave it another go and they stopped again. This time they got with Bud and Al and told them they wanted their voices in the chorus too. Now I knew who dreamed that idea up. Bud was naturally shy, but he was well aware of what might await him if he failed to live up to Gina's expectations, so to the surprise of all of us, he not only agreed, he made a good effort to participate. Al, on the other hand, couldn't wait to add his voice. He needed no convincing at all. Once more, we ran through the number. I couldn't believe the sound. It was amazing how good we sounded.

"So Stan, should we appoint Gina our choral director?" I asked slyly.

"Done!" he grinned without a moment's hesitation.

What we set in motion that afternoon was to change the entire sound and outlook of the band now known as Street Find. I could feel the excitement of the group as we discovered new capabilities as we worked on refining our sound. Over time, we got Thad to join in on the backup singing, but Rollie just wasn't comfortable with it and, to be honest, he couldn't carry a tune in a bucket. But he could play the keyboards as well as anyone and confided in us that he was saving his money to add a two deck Yamaha to his rack. I was fascinated with what that might bring to "our sound."

Bud had already put a down payment on a Gretsch Anniversary Electromatic Hollow Body, the purpose of which was to introduce another new dimension to the band. I gave Gina my Gibson to work on her skills. I had a feeling she could add something with that as accompaniment.

Most of these acquisitions were done with the idea that our summer income was going to substantially increase thanks to all the new county fair gigs we had booked. And, to further confirm our new status, Stan was informed we had been booked on July 4th to provide some entertainment at the Spokane Interstate Fairgrounds. Where these bookings were coming from was still a bit of a mystery to me. Sure, we had a loyal following at several of the clubs, especially the Palomar, but was that the source of the spread of our fame? It was sometime later that I learned Doreen Foxwell was a factor.

Another change was the insistence by the girls to include me in deciding in what direction their music should go. Once we decided on a piece to include, we worked on how it should be presented. We were drifting further and further away from the original easy-listening middle-of-the-road selections and picking a side: country or rock. For the most part, we tried to find music that could be shaped to appeal to both sides of the street. But eventually, there was going to be a clear dividing line for some of our music, and our play lists would reflect just which audience we were trying to reach.

Gina, Fran, and I had become a trio, although more often than not, I was more backup vocals than part of the lead. However, Gina's rant had at least produced some understanding on my part that I had to give it a proper, full effort and not assume I could just stand there and hum. Hell, if Al and Bud could risk it, what made me think I should be exempt? Besides, I was getting to the point where the last thing I wanted to do was to disappoint Gina.

There was another element to the girls that took me a while to really notice. Both of them were developing a stage presence. They had been working on routines that used some physical moves in unison, rather than just standing at the microphone and singing. Fran was truly coming out of her shell and being more aggressive with her voice and actions. This was all a manifestation of how the girls interacted with themselves in the past, and when they were working on their music as a duo.

The culmination was one of our Saturday night gigs at the Palomar when they stood apart from me and ripped into Miranda Lambert's Little Red Wagon. The two of them were pointing out into the audience, picking out various guys as they belted out the chorus, swinging their hips in provocative way. In the last verse, they turned on me and gave me the horizontal finger, neatly done in perfect unison like pointing a pistol. My reaction was surprise and that seemed to work with the audience. It was the last song in our last set and the crowd ate it up. Bud, Stan, and Al saw the audience reaction and just kept rolling along. It must have gone on for at least three more minutes before we called a halt to it.

The reaction of the crowd was amazing. As we stretched the ending, they were clapping in unison to the music and hooting and hollering as we rocked on. I could see the sweat pouring off Stan as he kept the beat with an enthusiasm I couldn't recall ever seeing before. We had our killer finish for the outdoor concerts. If we could stir up a hundred people at the Palomar Club, think what we could do with five hundred or a thousand at an outdoor gig. I could see the wheels going around in everyone's mind. Yeah. We had our killer finish.

Chapter 6 She's The One

Stan had warned me and the girls that during the summer, the club scene would be much quieter. People were off on vacation or just enjoying the longer summer days. They weren't so motivated to go to a club as they were during the fall, winter, and early spring. We were still booked during the days we were available, but The Palomar had no problem covering for us when we were at one of the outdoor events.

The other factor was that much of our new outdoor sound wasn't suitable for the club scene. It was too loud and would have blasted people out of the room. We had to have two different sounds; a club sound and an outdoor sound. More work. But again, Fran, with Gina's leadership, worked on the transition and bit by bit, we had enough music for both venues. I contributed, as did Stan and Bud, but the real grunt work was done by the girls.

There had been a change in my relationship with Gina after her now-famous rant. She had become much more aggressive on stage and I found I didn't mind it a bit. I realized she and Fran were becoming performers, not just singers. They had worked out dance steps and body actions to use on their routines. We were adding an element to the band we didn't have before. As I saw it, we were selling ourselves to the audience. In the meantime, Gina was still selling herself to me. I wondered if she understood that she had already sold me. We were doing a lot more face to face singing and the message wasn't lost on the band or our audience.

Gina and Fran continued to work on their interpretations of songs we could use in our sets, but nothing would be included without the general approval of the whole band and, of course, appropriate rehearsal.

In mid-May we were two weeks before our first outdoor gig, a Memorial Day thirty minute session on the campus mall at Eastern Washington University in Cheney. We had no idea who we would follow or who would follow us. Our audience would be mostly college kids just finished their year. We knew that we had to tailor our play list to that group. Aside from Stan, Bud and Thad, the rest of us were in our twenties and not at all removed from the age group we would be entertaining. This time, Gina, Fran, Al, Rollie, and I worked on the play list. Thirty minutes gave us room for seven, maybe eight songs, we estimated. We could extend our big finish if we got the response we hoped for, so rehearsal would be directed at achieving three things: a sound that the young audience could relate to, recognizable tunes, and one more intangible that I thought would add the finishing touch: audience interaction.

I was sure Fran and Gina could present themselves in such a way as to get the audience into the act. Encourage them to sing along, clap, dance in the aisles, whatever it took to make them feel they were part of the show. What I didn't count on was just how far Gina and Fran were willing to go. When I saw what they planned to wear, I wondered if those young kids were ready for this. Gina was flat out going to flaunt it, and Fran was a willing accomplice.

Memorial Day dawned bright and sunny in the Palouse. It was going to be hot during the afternoon, hopefully cooling a bit by the time we were scheduled on at just before nine that evening. As a group, we were nervous. It was our very first outdoor gig and although we had a ton of experience at the club scene, we were brand new at this kind of venue with what I could see was a large audience. If we stunk, we'd be lucky to be booed off the stage. But we'd been getting ourselves ready for this, our first of now seven outdoor concerts between Memorial Day and Labor Day. We'd better give it our best shot.

Stan reverted to his theory that when you have a short program like ours, there was no point in singing lullabies. As he so eloquently put it, "We need to kick their ass right off the bat, and keep kicking it until we're done." We all knew what he meant, so our eight songs all had to have some bite and power. The two most important choices were the first and last ones. We debated this for a while until we got general agreement on what we would begin with. Bud put it best. Give them something they recognize and drive it home. We would open with Kelly Clarkson's Stronger.

There are times when things happen that drive a chill up and down your spine. A few seconds into our first number, I felt that chill. The crowd, at least five hundred I guessed, reacted ... and it was positive. As soon as we got that feedback, I could feel the whole band pick it up and just let it rip. Gina and Fran hammered out their lines with Bud, Al, and I backing them. We had them. We had them in the palm of our hands. Now ... don't let go.

The thirty minutes seemed to fly past in seconds. I knew we were going to finish big, and I was eating up the love from the audience. Our third from the last was Amanda Marshall's I Believe in You, a duet with the girls, with the usual suspects backing them up. Gina must have had her Wheaties that morning because she belted it out like I'd never heard her sing before. Then, when she moved to the front of the stage with Fran right there with her, they got the audience waving back and forth in time. Bud, no stranger to getting in some extra licks, gave the crowd a full minute of virtuoso picking to their delight. The girls finished the song and the reaction of the young crowd was amazing. By the time we knocked down our finale, Little Red Wagon, there wasn't much left to give them. We'd sold out, as the saying goes. They got it all and the crowd told us just how much they appreciated that.

The eight of us spent a couple of minutes acknowledging the applause, whistles, hoots and hollering before we left the stage. I could hear all kinds of calls for "more" and "encore," but that wasn't on the schedule and we had to get off the stage to let the next act get ready. I felt sorry for them. We were going to be a bitch of an act to follow.

We sat in the big open room off the mall where we could get a cold drink and relax before packing up and heading back to Spokane. We were spent. We'd given everything we had in those eight songs and we'd got the response we were hoping for. I was wondering how we'd top this before I remembered we had a whole summer's worth of these venues, most of which were only twenty minutes or so. Aside from the money, it hardly seemed like any time on stage at all. On a dollars-per-hour, we were getting rich. But I also thought we needed more music. We were going to be playing three and four day sets, and I thought we should try not to just repeat the same program each day. It was something to talk to the group about.

As I cooled down, Gina came and sat beside me, leaning on me. I was tempted to put my arm around her, but didn't.

"You don't want to do that, girl," I chuckled. "I'm soaked in sweat."

"Me too," she said, her voice betraying just how exhausted she was. The girls had been the smart ones. They had dressed in tank tops and shorts with heeled sandals. After all, most of the young girls in the audience would be dressed similarly.

"I'm soaked to the skin," she said, "and this bra is chafing me." With a time-worn move, she reached behind her back and undid the bra clasp and removed the offending undergarment, laying it beside her. "There, that's better."

I saw Al, Bud, Rollie, and Thad's eyes bug out in astonishment. Fran was sitting beside Gina, saw her move, shook her head, closed her eyes and leaned back. Stan was sitting on the floor and his eyes were closed as well, so he missed the show. I was sure he'd hear about it. As for me, I wasn't surprised. Gina often paraded around our apartment in little or nothing aside from a t-shirt and panties, so I wasn't seeing anything I hadn't seen before. There were times when I was pretty sure she was doing this to attract my attention. But tonight, I think she was as wiped as the rest of us.

We finally got all our gear later that evening just before the fireworks. We had cooled off by then, but all of us were desperately in need of a shower. We decided to beat the traffic and headed out about half-way through the pyrotechnics and gratefully, the traffic was manageable. There would be more than a few fireworks shows over the summer.

I was glad that the store and our apartment shared air conditioning and a sixty gallon water heater. The girls took a while to get the sweat and grime off them and I whiled away my wait with a couple of long necks for fluid replacement therapy. When they were finally out of the bathroom, I was informed it was my turn and I gratefully headed for the shower. The girls hadn't said much on the short drive home from Cheney. I think, like all of us, they had given that session their all. There was nothing left in the tank. I know that's how I felt.

The shower felt wonderful as I sluiced off the layer of sweat from our effort. I felt good. Hell, I felt better than good. We had accomplished everything we had set out to do. How could you not feel good about that? I dried myself off and headed for the bedroom and found the night table lamp on and Fran fast asleep with just a sheet over her topless form. I found a clean pair of briefs and a t-shirt, switched off the lamp, and headed back out to the living room. I wasn't ready for bed yet. The adrenalin was still flowing.

I stopped in the kitchen for one more beer, then moved toward the living room. I was surprised to see Gina sitting on the sofa.

"I thought you'd be in bed by now," I said quietly. "Your sister is fast asleep."

"I think tonight took a lot out of her," Gina nodded.

"What about you. You gave it everything tonight. You should be exhausted too."

"Too charged up," she said. "Tonight was something I'd never experienced before. I've felt like I was high on something."

"I know what you mean. I felt the same way."

"Yeah," she smiled at me. "I got that. You gave it everything tonight, Ed. I mean everything."

"I was feeding off the crowd."

"I know. So was I. But I was also feeding off you."