I took out my phone, intending to listen to one of the songs I had picked for tomorrow, but instead, my mind drifted back to the conversation with Molly. Bleeding Moonlight.God, I hadn’t listened to their stuff in years. They’d been one of my favorite bands when I was deep in my guitar obsession, but that was years ago.
I typed in their name and scrolled down to their very first album. The familiar cover image took me right back to when I’d begged my parents to buy the CD for my birthday. When they’d obliged, I’d listened to the album on repeat for a month straight.
It was so long ago that I couldn’t name all the songs, but when I pulled up the song list, I recognized one immediately.
“The Thing About You” started with a harsh guitar riff. It didn’t sound great coming from my phone, so I reached for the green aux cord and hooked it up to my speaker, letting the melody fill the room.
I fell back onto my bed. It really was like traveling back in time. All the memories collecting dust in my psyche shook themselves off and began to dance inside my head.
I’d sit in this very room for hours after school every day, strumming the guitar and fingering chords until my fingers hurt. I’d been so excited when my dad bought me my first electric. It was a Gibson Epiphone, and it had been my most prized possession until I’d upgraded to a Les Paul the year of my audition. Dad would pop his head in when he got home every night to listen to me play, his enthusiastic reactions embarrassing and delighting me at the same time. If I’d known then how little time we had left, I would have played for him more often.
I cleared my throat in an attempt to get rid of the sudden tightness. Thinking back to how my parents encouraged my interest in music always made me emotional. They’d done so without fail—even before I had begun to dream of Julliard. When I was ten, I’d started my first band with Naomi, my childhood friend. I had a kid-sized acoustic guitar, and she got her parents to buy her a drum kit that was more of a toy that an instrument. We’d jam in the garage on the weekends, causing my neighbor, Mrs. Dorin, to complain to my mom about the constant noise. Mom had pacified her with cookies and never asked us to stop.
“The Thing About You” ended, and I sat up, reached for the Les Paul in the corner of my room, and turned on my amp to the lowest level. Even though I hadn’t remembered this song until a few minutes ago, my fingers appeared to have a much finer memory. I’d practiced this song over and over again until I’d been close to perfect. All these years later, the chords and even the guitar solo at the end, came to me with ease. Fuck, it was an excellent song.
I listened to it a few more times, going over the nuances of the guitar and the tone of the vocalist. I wanted to play it tomorrow. Sure, it was a bit heavier than our usual stuff, but Molly was right. These guys were the biggest thing to ever come out of this town of forty thousand people. The crowd would recognize it, and even if they didn’t, it was a damn good song.
I penciled it in right before the original I wanted to play and dialed Liam and Elly.
Liam picked up first. “Hey, Ade, what’s going on?”
“Hello?” Elly’s voice sounded a moment later.
“Hey, guys, sorry for calling a bit late. Wanted to run something by you for tomorrow.”
“Cool, what’s up?” Elly asked.
“Two ideas. You guys remember Bleeding Moonlight? They’re a heavy metal band, they’re from around here.”
“Yeah, of course,” Liam said. “They were on the news a few weeks ago. One of their members died.”
“Right, so I heard.” Apparently, I was the only one tragically behind on all the depressing town gossip. “Molly was talking to me about them today, and I listened to a few of their old songs just now. I think we should play one tomorrow. ‘The Thing About You.’ It’s a good one, and it might be a crowd-pleaser if they’re back on people’s minds.”
“Dun dun dun, duun duun,” Elly hummed. “Yeah, I remember that one. It’s old, but their newer stuff is way more technical, so this one would work better for us. I’m into it.”
“I need to listen to it. Give me a few minutes,” Liam said before lapsing into silence. A moment later, I heard the song playing on his end through what sounded like his laptop speakers. My fingers went back to my guitar, fingering the chords along with the music.
“The solo is pretty hard. You think you can take that one, Ade?” Liam asked.
“Yeah, I can lead on this one,” I offered, excitement bubbling in my gut. For the band, I mostly played rhythm guitar, given that I also sang on most songs. Whenever I played lead, the instrument weaved deeper into my soul and my mind, demanding more and more of my attention. But I was over that kind of a commitment to something that would never pay off.
“Bass sounds simple enough. We’ll need to raise the octave, I think,” Elly said.
“And I can do the backup vocals,” Liam offered.
“Sounds perfect. We can toy around with it a bit tomorrow at Mason’s.”
“Cool. Great idea, Ade. I think it’ll be a hit with the crowd.”
“What was the other thing?” Liam asked, turning off the music on his end.
“I wanted to play ‘Green Roses’ near the end. Maybe second last? It fits the mood of the set, and it will be a nice way to break up ‘The Thing About You’ and ‘Crosstown Traffic.’”
“Yeah, we could,” Liam said with little enthusiasm. “Though most people are there to hear songs they know.”
“It’ll be a good bridge though,” Elly countered. “It’s a great tune, Ade. I like what you’ve done with it.”
I chewed on my lip, grateful we weren’t doing this over video call. Like most of the songs I’d written in the past two years, it was about my parents. I didn’t—couldn’t—talk about their deaths very well, but I could package up fragments of my feelings in my music. The lyrics were about love and loss and all the things that don’t pan out like we want them too. I’d written the guitar parts and vocals, and while the band had filled in the gaps, it was my baby. Most of our originals were.
