Tempo Change by Barbara Hall Read Free Book Online Page A

my words landed.



Rehearsal
    W HEN YOU DECIDE TO START A BAND, NO ONE TELLS YOU (AND you certainly don’t think about it) that you are going to end up being a kind of substitute teacher. No one wants to listen to you because they don’t recognize you as an authority figure. You’re one of them. You can’t possibly know what you’re doing.
    A lot of things happened that I hadn’t counted on. First, Gigi decided to play bass instead of keyboards. The idea came to her when her father, Rodney Stone, said he was a bass player in college and wouldn’t it be fun for her to learn his instrument? He didn’t have his instrument anymore so he’d gone out and bought a brand-new one for her. He’d also bought her a bass amp. Then he bought us a guitar amp and a PA system. I suddenly saw the benefits of having rich friends. On the other hand, it meant that the pressure wason. Adults were invested. Rodney wanted to hang around for rehearsal, but Gigi convinced him that most rock stars didn’t have their parents hanging around rehearsals. Her mother, Erica with a “C,” made us T-shirts with our names on them and some business cards. This was all before we’d learned one song, so I definitely felt we couldn’t back out now.
    Gigi was a little surprised at her parents’ sudden acceptance of this new venture, and I had to admit that I was, too. I thought rebellion was supposed to be part of it somehow but everyone approved. Almost everyone. More on that later.
    Our first rehearsal took place in the banquet room of Peace. Nine o’clock, after the rush.
    Off the bat, there was the problem that even though she had a brand-new amp and a bass guitar, Gigi didn’t actually know how to play bass. I didn’t know how to teach her, either. Ella could get her to follow along with the beat she was creating on the drums, but when Ella tried to deviate with some frills or anything fancy, Gigi would lose her way. I struggled to show her what to do but it really wasn’t my instrument. I was talking about eighth versus quarter notes when Viv spoke up. She said, “It’s kinda like a voice, you know. Like a backing vocal, you know? Like in a song when someone is going ‘bop bop bop’ in the background. You’re the bop bop.”
    This is what worked.
    Then everybody had thoughts on my song. I certainly hadn’t counted on that.
    The song was called “Walking Contradiction.” Okay, Ihad written it about Jeff but I hoped he’d never figure that out. Guys mostly didn’t listen to lyrics.
    It went like this:
    He has short blond hair and a penetrating gaze.
    He’s got petal red cheeks and a cigarette haze.
    He’s got plans for the future, he’s gonna program
your world.
    He’s got eyes for everything except a girl.
    He wants to fall in love, yeah, he’s got that
predilection
    But he’s just a walking contradiction.
    “What’s a predilection?” Viv asked. “I don’t know what that is. I can’t sing it if I don’t know what it is.”
    “It’s a tendency.”
    “I don’t get it. First you say he doesn’t see the girl and then you say he wants to fall in love.”
    “Yeah, Viv, it’s a contradiction.”
    “Who’s this about?” Gigi asked.
    “Jeff,” Ella said. “The assistant manager out there.”
    I felt overwhelmed with embarrassment.
    “No, it’s not.”
    “Sure it is.”
    “It’s not about him. That’s not how songwriting works. Now, it’s in the key of G and let’s figure out a tempo.”
    “G, really?” Gigi frowned. “It’s such a happy key.”
    “It’s the people’s key. Tempo.”
    Ella gave us one and Gigi said it was too fast and Ellasaid it wasn’t, she was too slow, and the Bos and Seans and Tylers hung around the door and giggled at us until I shooed them away.
    And then we all started throwing ideas out until everybody was on the same page and we did one version of the song where we got all the way through and it didn’t suck. By then it was midnight.
    Jeff was waiting for me outside when we