(Heads up! Be sure you've read Entry #0 before you continue)
Something you should know: I have a penpal. He lives in the UK. People are always thrown when I tell them this. I don't know why - clearly, it's not a common thing to have a penpal these days. but I figured I'd give you a disclaimer before we continue.
Anyway, picking up from the last entry -
So that's how we got started, but there was still a problem. I was, to be kind to myself, a mediocre singer at best and X is... well... X is a fantastic guitarist (if you catch my drift). So the hunt for our vocalist began. We found her in the extremely talented Victoria Noble.
...until Victoria decided she wanted to pursue a career in Talent Management and took an internship on the East Coast. For the record, we still keep in touch (Hi, Vicki!).
So, disappointed, but not discouraged, X and I tried out the next candidate. Let's call him Frank. Frank found us on Bandmix, and sent us a terrific couple of recordings where his vocals soared like an eagle. The music was dated, but his performance was excellent and his photos looked great. He embodied the Rockstar that we were looking for. We eagerly set up a time for Frank to come out and audition for us.
When that day arrived, X and I pulled into the parking lot of the rehearsal studio, about half an hour before we were set to meet Frank. But, Frank was already there. A very different Frank from his photos. What stood before us now was a slightly over middle-aged man with his short hair pulled into a quasi-ponytail. He puffed on a cigarette as he leaned against the wall.
We got out of the car and said hello.
"Whenever you're auditioning, you gotta show up at least ten minutes early." He said. "It demonstrates the appropriate respect. Trust me. I've been doing this a long time."
"Oh." I said. "How long?"
Frank explained that the recordings were actually from a demo his band recorded in 1990. His pictures were from a photoshoot that same year. His father (a famous actor that I will not name) paid for the whole thing, hence the high quality.
Whatever. We're not shallow, so I opened the door to the rehearsal studio, and we went inside.
"Cool, man. Let's do this!" I said after we were all set up.
Frank grabbed the mic, and his soaring eagle falsetto sounded now more like a Thanksgiving Turkey trying to mate with a very angry cat - there was a lot of shrieking, it didn't go very high, fell down quickly and just kind of made everyone an uncomfortable mix of embarrassed and amused. Alright, that was a really rough metaphor but you get the idea. He was bad. I glanced questioningly over to X. He was shaking his head rapidly, making the "no" unanimous.
Without stringing him along, we finished up with Frank and I texted him later that day that we would continue auditioning singers, but thanked him for coming out, etc. The string of profanity laced insults and proclamations of his own greatness that he responded with still make me chuckle to this day.
The next audition we set up was with someone named Rick. We were set to meet him at 10:30 a.m in the same place that we met Frank. When 11:00 a.m rolled around and we still hadn't heard from him, we began packing up. We left at 12:30 p.m and have still never heard back from Rick, though last we looked, he is still active on Bandmix.
There were two others. One overslept and missed the audition, the other cancelled at the last minute.
So, in the midst of my angsty, singerless woes, I began writing an email (read: bitchfest) to my penpal, Christian. I, in even greater detail, told him the above stories, and continued on to write:
"People have an endless capacity to disappoint you." in a very, very undramatic fashion.
He replied to my email within an hour.
"Frankly, I'm offended you didn't just ask me." He said. "Are you free this weekend? I'm flying down there anyway..."
Well now... that was just damned convenient.
- Adam
