"No way, man, I thought they were Brits!"
"Way, dude. They were Brits. But their first record was in German." Danny grunted to signify that was settled. "Not only that, but it was recorded in Paris."
"France?"
"Is there any other?"
"Well, not any more there isn't." Carson chuckled. Danny nodded in agreement.
Colby shook his head. "Man, that Rishloo character ain't gonna like that much."
"Jeez, Colby, Rishloo was long gone when-" He was interrupted by an explosive sneeze from the drummer. " Gesundheit! Anyway, that guy was long dead before the Beatles came around."
Colby shrugged. "It sounds pretty weird, but if you say so…" He turned to the drummer. "Hey, Carson, you may want to wipe yourself off. You got a massive snoogee running down your shirt from that sneeze." He snorted a laugh as he pointed.
The drummer looked down to see the 'snoogee' oozing down his shirt. His cuff smeared it into the fabric.
"Good enough, dude." Colby snorted again.
"Nice," was all Danny could think to say.
They had all been learning German and so the lyrics were not much of a challenge, but the slow and steady beat was giving Carson fits. "There's no place in this song for me to really show my stuff."
Danny knew 'show my stuff' translated into 'bang on the drums in a mad frenzy.' And that was probably how his parents had agreed to let them practice in their basement-they had already become accustomed to the noise of his showing his stuff. And Colby was having a similar problem playing a steady rhythm.
"Do you guys really want to be musicians or are you so pigheaded you won't play anything but the heavy metal you love? Personally, I don't mind 'down-sizing' the rockness of the tunes so the locals can start to know us better. After that, we could ease them into the heavier stuff. You dig?"
"Yeah, but." Colby gestured helplessly. "C'mon, guys, I mean 'soft rock'? Really! I don't think I could stomach that."
"Know what you mean, dude. Can't stand to even listen to the stuff myself."
Danny threw his hands up in exasperation. Ever since the Ring of Fire had left them stranded in this world of minuets and dirges, the four of them were about the only heavy metal freaks around. Before that they always had friends in Barrackville, the record store in Fairmont, and the occasional concert at WVU in Morgantown.
"Guys, c'mon. What good is being a 'professional' musician if you can't play anywhere? I know Carson would love to strut his stuff and Colby would love to wow the ladies with his licks, especially Carson's sis, Natasha. Which I suspect is the real reason you wanted to join the band."
Colby began a feeble protest, but Danny continued. "The point is, fellas, we're pretty good at what we do and would be no good to anyone in a machine shop, construction crew…"
"Or the army," Colby added.
"Or the army. Except maybe with their band-if they had one. But all we really want to do is play music. And if it's that important to you-and I mean music is all you feel passionate about…"
"Except for maybe my sister." The drummer laughed. Colby glared.
Ben, being the youngest, had let his elders carry the conversation. Now he blurted out his biggest fear. "All the down-timers want to hear is country music, and I know I don't want to play that. Don't even think I can. Just as soon not play music at all if that's all there is."
Danny relaxed a bit and laughed. "Well, I can't say I don't agree with that sentiment. It's at least got to be rock for me, even if we have to play the 'oldies.' Otherwise we'd just be another polka band."
"Yeah." Colby laughed. "And I never learned the accordion."
They all shared in a laugh then, and Danny felt the tension ease. "So, I figure if we can slow the beat down a bit-c'mon, Carson, you can do it!-and let up a bit on the rhythm, I think we can get the audience to like us."
Ben sighed. "Better than last time, I hope." Even Danny winced at the memory. "I thought no one was ever gonna talk to me again."
"Yeah," Carson added, "we didn't make many friends that night."
The silence that descended over the group left each in their own embarrassment. They had fast-talked a gig at the Gardens one night when some group from Jena did not show up. It did not take them long to get their equipment there and set up-each was high on adrenaline and ready to shine.
The first song was "Sugar" by System of a Down. They had changed some of the lyrics to make it presentable to younger people. At the end of the song a waiter had approached and whispered to tone it down, as people were trying to eat.
What? They could not eat with the music playing? So they toned down their second song. Something mellower: Anthrax's "God Save the Queen." Someone pulled the plug before they got thirty seconds into the song. Literally pulled the plug on their equipment.
That was the extent of their professional performances. They never even got to what they considered their 'signature piece,' "Caught Somewhere in Time" by Iron Maiden.
"That song would've really rocked," commented Ben.
"What song are you talking about?" Colby was still depressed remembering that night.
"'Caught Somewhere in Time.' It was, like, so perfect for what's happened to us."
"Know what you mean, man." Danny tried to shake off the mood. "But we gotta pick a new signature song and try it again. We can't give up."
"Okay." Carson twirled his drumsticks. "What say we give this Beatles' song a try?"
It took every bit of charm Danny had to just get his foot back in the door at the Thuringen Gardens. Their prior engagement was still the stuff of legends and he had to convince them that an audition would be worth their time.
"Okay, fellows. We got one shot to do this." Danny spoke quietly to the band after they had finished setting up the equipment. "Are we ready to wow them?"
Colby nodded. "My ax is tuned and ready to rock-rock quietly, that is."
Carson and Ben nodded their agreement. Danny turned to the crowd of three: the manager and two of the wait staff. "We'd like to start out with an old favorite."
Carson was able to get the simple beat going. Soft, slow, and steady. Danny took the mike and sang, in German.
After three songs, the manager signaled them to stop and tipped back his chair. "Well, boys, I must say. I'm quite impressed with the change in your sound. Do you have enough material to play a couple of sets for an evening?" He leaned forward to set the chair aright. "I mean without resorting to the kind of stuff you played the first time?"
"Yes, sir." Danny replaced the mike in its stand. "We have enough similar material ready to do three or four sets, if you like. Soft rock, middle-of-the-road…" He chuckled. "Stuff that will not destroy anyone's digestion or drown out their conversations."
"Very good. I think I can get you in for one night next week-how's Wednesday sound?" He came over and extended a hand. "And we'll see how it goes from there."
Danny shook the hand. "Fantastic! I know you won't be disappointed."
The others also shook the hand and murmured their thanks. Then quietly got to the task of putting everything away.
Walking home with their heavy load on a couple of dollies, they said little. Danny wondered if it was some sense of having sold themselves out or simple elation at a chance to redeem themselves.
Colby voiced his concerns. "Man, after all these weeks of practice, I sure hope they like us."
Carson smirked. "I am sure Natasha already approves."
Now that it was over, it was all well worth it-all the hard work and practice, practice, practice. Their performance pleased everyone as much as the tryout.
The early Beatles went down well. The up-timers knew the song well enough, even if the lyrics were in German, which pleased the down-timers.
Most the stuff was old Beatles' tunes and the like. Even one Garth Brooks piece that was more rock than country. Still, the high point of the evening was when they played the John Denver classic "Take Me Home, Country Roads." Most the up-timers sang along and quite a few of the down-timers as well.
And they were all smiling when they got to tearing down their equipment.
Carson nudged Colby in the ribs. "I noticed Natasha was pleased with the performance-especially yours."
"Maybe so." Ben laughed. "But he was spending most of his time flirting with Cheyenne Bledsoe."
"Oh? So, what, Colby? You already dumping my sister?"
"Hey, there's nothing wrong with your sister, man. I mean she's nice and all." He shook his head. "But Cheyenne is hot!"
"See fellas? It's like I told you. Being a professional musician will get you noticed. If we had stuck to the metal, no one would be talking with us." Danny paused a moment. "I think the Denver and Brooks songs got the best audience response. Maybe we could add a few more of those. Y'know… country and folk?"
Carson shrugged. "Okay by me. At least we're playing."
"Me too. And you know? I was thinking about that beer barrel polka song. I remember it from a movie or something."
Ben stopped and stared at Colby. "Are you kidding? A polka?"
"Well, I mean it could be kinda fun playing one of them."
Danny nodded. "We could check into it."
Three of the members nodded together and continued rolling up cords.
Ben hung his head in disbelief and moaned.