Guy in San Blando (Chapter One)

This is a serial I have started, based on my experiences as an unknown East Bay suburban rocker.  All the characters and places are fictitious.  I have no idea where this thing is going, it's just fun to write.  Enjoy!

ONE.

The town of San Blando, a suburb of Bigburg, had seven bars, an arts center, a bowling alley, and a movie theater.  Three of the bars had live music on weekends, where loud bands came to play, and the musicians generally did their best to keep up with the patrons in terms of drinks.  By the end of the night in a San Blando bar, you might see the bass player fall off the stage, the drummer doing the best he can with one stick and a Bic pen (because he dropped his other stick and was too blind drunk to find it), or you might even notice the singer has disappeared altogether, and the band is resorting to Booker T and the M.G.’s tunes.

Guy Madden worked as a sports statistician for the Bigburg news station.  He was the guy who fed stats to the sportscasters as they were doing the broadcast, and he was constantly getting kudos for his extensive knowledge and resourcefulness.  But kudos was all he ever got, never a raise or a bonus.  He could aspire to network broadcasts, but he wanted to stay here, in San Blando, for one reason.  Here was where his band was.  He was a singer, guitar player and songwriter for one of the more respected bands in San Blando, The Flamefarts. 

The Flamefarts played aggressive, kick-you-in-the-eardrum type rock with a touch of off-beat hip-hop thrown in.  They were getting a hell of a following.  At the end of the night, the audiences were usually a bit more sober than they would be for other San Blando bands.  The reason was that the music was good, and the audience actually paid attention, and would not get bored and go to the bar.  The five members of the Flamefarts were Guy, Lump Bumpus on bass, Herm Rottweiler played lead guitar, Dude Igneous played drums, and the group had a keyboard player/DJ whose name was Mary Dynasty.

The local football team, the Bigburg Marauders, had sucked for decades.  They were known for starting the season poorly, then getting worse as the season went on.  This year had been something of a miracle year for them, and they were actually in the running for a playoff berth.  Guy had a lot to do at work which was very exciting, but there was a problem.  Bigburg promoters had been slumming in San Blando a few weeks before, and had caught the Flamefarts set at a San Blando bar called The Roasted Goat.  A promoter named Roger Pretentious had contacted Guy (who was basically the band manager) and had offered them to come out to Bigburg to play an “audition set” at one of the most popular clubs in the city, called The Spot.  Guy was terribly worried that his band would be offered a gig at The Spot on a night when he had to work a broadcast.

One Saturday night, as the band was setting up for their show at another San Blando restaurant and bar called The Fishwife, Guy brought up the dilemma with his band mates.  “Hey, I don’t want you all to get too excited, but I got a call from a guy named Pretentious the other night.  We might get an audition set at The Spot.”

 “Roger?  Roger Pretentious?”  asked Lump.

“Yeah.  You know him, Lump?” Guy said.

“He promotes bands in Bigburg.  Wow, he called you?  You meet him at the TV station or something?” Lump said, setting his bass up on its stand.

“Believe it or not, he heard us a couple of weeks back, when we were at The Roasted Goat.  He said we got potential.”

Dude Igneous barked from behind the drumset, “Hell yeah, we got potential.  But I hear they just offer ‘audition sets’ to bands they think are a bunch of rubes, so they can get an opening act for free.  Tell Roger  about our three and a half albums, and how we been packing them in at the bars we play.” 

Mary was noticeably anxious.  “But it’s the freakin’ Spot!  Chance like this don’t come around too often!”

“The whole thing might be academic,” said Guy.  “The Marauders might make the playoffs.  If they do, I might not be able to gig at all.  I’m gonna be busy!”

All the members of the band were big Marauders fans.  There were a few silent moments while the musicians continued to set up their gear.  It was hard to think their favorite team might interfere with a big break for the Flamefarts. 

“If we have to do it without you, I could sing,” said Rott shyly.  Herm Rottweiler, or Rott as he was nicknamed, had a singing voice like a chimpanzee with a heavy cigar habit.  He was sure that he sang well, but the rest of the band thought otherwise.  There had been a gig once, when Guy was very sick and had no voice at all, and Rott did the singing.  Unfortunately it had been their first gig at one particular bar, and they had not gotten hired back.  They had, in fact, been short-paid.

Guy, always diplomatic said, “Rott, you should save singing for your solo career.  Your voice is so…unique.”

“Yeah!  Unique!”  said Rott.

“We’ll just have to see how things work out,” Guy said patiently.  “It would be great for us to play at The Spot.  That’s where Goon City Bedbugs got their big start.”

“Goon City Bedbugs.  Yeah.  Those guys suck.  They should take all that money and spend it on some music lessons,” laughed Lump.

Guy changed the subject.  “Here’s the set list.  We’re opening with ‘Fry My Pork Chop’.  Anybody object to starting with that tune?”

There were nods and murmurs of approval all around.  Igneous looked the set list over. 

“Why aren’t we playing ‘Delbert and Dingus’?” he asked.

“I want to rework the lyrics for that song,” Guy replied.  “I don’t think we need to have the word ‘poop’ in there so many times.”

Lump had written the lyrics. “Aw,” he moaned.

They were about set up now, and had just enough time to get a quick bite before they had to play.  Next door was Taco Hole, where they could fuel up for the night’s activities.  The food at The Fishwife was not to be trusted, and all the Flamefarts knew it.  As they went out the stage door toward Taco Hole, The Fishwife was starting to fill up; it was going to be a good night. 

TO BE CONTINUED…