Editing Getting the Band Together (section)

=='''Stage Presence'''==
 
Wrecker and Reggy park their Harley’s outside the Ugly Ferret.  A busy day, tricky, but a job well done.  Its Miller time.  And Jack Daniel time.  And Urala time!

As they enter they can hear the argument going on in the stage hall.  Walking to the bar they look to Lucky.  Wrecker and Reggy knock knuckles on the bar.  Glasses and bottles follow.

Wrecker asks, "Whats going on in there?"

Lucky shrugs, "Creative differences it sounds like.  Trying to break Cali of that ''passive avoidance'' stage thing of hers.  She plays like a monster but won’t look at the crowd, ya know the problem.  Eddie and Gadget and Tiffy have been trying to talk her through it.  Not having much luck.  She keeps getting weepy.  Thought she was tougher then that."

Reggy looks to the back, listening, while Wrecker says, "Lucky, we three have not had the bad time she had. Well, maybe you did--how was your time in prison?"

Lucky nods, "ah.. ya…..not that bad I guess."

Reggy starts into the back, pulling aside the curtain between the barroom and the stage hall.  Wrecker follows, worried what his partner might do.

Reggy comes and sits on the edge of the stage next to Cali. The move surprises not just her but everyone. Wrecker and Reggy have become part of the background at the Ugly Ferret — they’re starting to become friends with everyone, like they already are with Gadget — but the two are clearly a lot older.  No one but Holden and Gadget had said more then a few words at a time to them.  All business.

Cali starts to scoot aside, her eyes wide. Reggy softly puts a hand on her leg, gently projecting his calm psyche toward her. Jax stands behind the drums, frowning. Eddie and Tiff come alert too. Holden looks up from his guitar at the sudden silence. Gadget starts to say something, then stops.

Reggy says softly, "Cali, I don’t want to get in the middle of y’alls music, but it sounds like they’re pushing you away instead of helping you." She looks at him — really looks at him, maybe for the first time — seeing the older man there beside her.

"Gadget’s right — you do need to look at the crowd more. Eddie’s right — you’re missing the fun of playing. Jax is right to let you do what works for you. Holden minds his own business — smart, when it comes to other people’s problems. Tiff’s right too — no one’s going to hurt you when you’re with them. She doesn’t even know how right she is."

He says, "Look at me, Cali." She turns and meets his eyes. "If Wrecker or I are here, no one’s going to lay a hand on you — any of you — without walking away with a broken one. I promise. Wrecker and I have seen some shit. And we aren’t in the ''giving a shit about consequences'' business if someone does something to hurt you folks."

He taps her knee lightly. "But listen — the stage is a performance space. You can play for yourself all you want, but the band needs you to participate. Help build the group vibe. So…I have a suggestion. Back in the day, a guy named Jim Morrison used to piss his bandmates off by not facing the crowd — and he was their front man! I saw them — '''''The Doors''''' — in Los Angeles, when I was way too young to be loose on my own. The show was wild — he was in his own world, and people loved it. When he did turn and face them, they went insane."

She sniffles, fighting back tears. "What are you saying?"

"Give the crowd what they want — on your terms. They want a gorgeous girl shredding the bass like a wood chipper. They want an '''''icon'''''. You can be that."

"How?"

"There’s a great song by some hoopy frood wackos from the ’80s. You’ve probably heard them."

Eddie steps forward. "Who? What are you talking about?"

Reggy pulls out his phone and cues it up, slipping the earbuds to Cali.

"Just listen to this. Listen to that bass line. It’s got a front bass, a second bass, a rhythm guitar, hard-thumping drums. Imagine this: you do most of the show like normal, look at the crowd a bit here and there — they start chanting <big>CALI! CALI!</big> like they do… Then there’s a pause. The rhythm guitar hits a few notes. Then you step forward to the front of the stage, looking down that gorgeous chin — you throw your glasses into the crowd and launch into this hard-driving, relentless bass line. '''''Rule the stage. Own the crowd'''''. Eddie comes over and sings right up on you — runs a hand through your hair, under your chin, down your arms. You trust him, but you ignore him."

He smiles, "You ignore the crowd. You own the music. Own the bass — that pounding, front-of-the-stage bass. Now listen."

She slips the earbuds on, head down as usual. He presses play, the sharp, robotic bass riff punching into her ears. She closes her eyes and nods, lost in it already.   

After a moment, she looks at the phone and restarts the song. 

She does it again — a third time.

Finally, she hands the phone back to Reggy and gives him a shy smile. "I can do that."

<div class="center" style="width: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;">[[File:Musicline1.jpg]]</div>


The set is cruising through familiar songs — the crowd singing along, half drunk, half alive. Then the lights dip. Cali stands alone at the front, head lowered, her dark stylized glasses flashing under the stage lights. But these aren’t the real ones — just cheap knockoffs waiting for the right moment.

The rhythm guitar drops into Devo’s ''" Girl U Want." '' The crowd sort of half recognizing the riff. Cali stays turned, shoulders stiff. On the first pounding drum beat, she spins — sharp, clean — and rips the glasses from her face, flinging them into the crowd. Hands shoot up, fighting for a piece of her.

Her eyes, dark and electric, stay locked just over their heads. Eddie comes in close, singing into her space, tracing fingers through her hair, under her chin, teasing the line. She ignores him. Ignores all of them. The bass is hers — grinding, fierce, owning every note.
Eddie circles her as he sings each line:

<big>'''"She sings from somewhere you can't see..."'''</big> — he slides behind her, leaning in, his breath on her neck.

<big>'''"She sits in the top of the greenest tree..."'''</big> — he moves to her side, one hand tracing just above her shoulder.

<big>'''"She sends out an aroma of undefined love..."'''</big> — he lifts his hand to the crowd, taunting them with her.

<big>'''"It drips on down in a mist from above..."'''</big> — he drops to a knee, looking up at her like a devotee.

He snaps up and turn, pounding the crowd.

<big>'''"She's just the girl, she's just the girl, The girl you want! She's just the girl, she's just the girl, The girl you want !!"'''</big>

Holden stands behind them, hair shrouding his eyes as he hammers the rhythm. Beside Cali, and a pair of steps behind her,  Gadget prowls the second bass line, those angular high parts slicing the air. Tiffy moves in and out like a ghost, filling shot glasses and passing them between beats.

Wrecker and Reggy pace the edge of the stage front, arms folded, eyes sharp, grinning at each other when the chant swells:

<big>'''"She's just the girl, she's just the girl, the girl you want!"'''</big>

Eddie leans close on the chorus, his hand threading through her hair, under her chin, never breaking his stare with the front row while she ignores him completely:

<big>'''"Look at you with your mouth watering, Look at you with your mind spinning! Why don't we just admit it's all over? She's just the girl you want."'''</big>

When Eddie sings the final: 
<big><big>'''"She's just the girl you want!"'''</big></big> — she tears a ripping tone that shakes the lights.

When the last note hits, she tosses her guitar pick out into the sea of grabbing hands. She turns her back on them all, grabs the waiting shot of whiskey, downs it, and slips her real glasses back on just as the next song kicks in. The spell breaks — but the rumor is already alive: next show, they’ll chant her name louder.


On You Tube find-(/watch?v=e5bqKafk9HA)-   wiki wouldn't let me publish a youtube link