The Break - Chapter 6

Chapter 6 Ronnie walked in the garage. Everyone else was already there. Ass was behind the drums and Ben was strapping on his bass. “Sorry, I’m late.” Ronnie said apologetically. “I was working on something.” As Ronnie opened his guitar case “It’s cool,” Ass said. “We just got here.” Ronnie quickly plugged in. “All right, roll the tape. Pay attention and check this shit out.” He said. “Join in when you catch the groove.” Ronnie strummed the strings a few times as if he was searching for the hook that would start the riff. He paused for a moment and dove head first into a critical riff. It began its repetitive lurch with a dirty, fuzzy sound. The other three band members listened to Ronnie grind out the harsh tones. Ass felt his head moving, he found the right beat. He began thumping on the bass drum with the foot petal. Then, he added the snare and the high hat. Nothing major, just a solid beat, they’d work out the rest later. Ben took his cue from Ass. In perfect rhythm with his section mate, he entered the fray with a very basic, very heavy bass line. “Just what this riff needs.” He thought to himself. Pete matched what Ronnie was playing, only an octave higher. He smiled as he played. It was the same riff only he was playing it cleaner. The merged sound was good, but it was missing a few things. They had done this before many times and they knew the process. Everyone needed to get in the same groove and then they would play off each other. Sometimes they were on and they got what they were looking for. Other times, it was crap. That’s why the tape machine was always rolling. So, if they found the groove they could repeat it later. Ben felt the urge first. He awkwardly changed his rhythm just slightly and added a few notes to the basic line he had been playing. “Fuck!” Ben said disgusted and stop playing. “Wrong rhythm.” Ass thought as the other three continued. He didn’t have to say it out loud. He knew that Ben knew. They had been the rhythm section for eight years now. They both knew what was right, when it was right. That wasn’t it. “What the fuck was that?” Ben asked himself. “C’mon, this is badass, get in to it.” After a quick moment it was time to go again. He bounced his head twice in sync with Ass and picked up the basic line again, kept the same rhythm and added a few different notes and felt the groove picking up. “That’s it.” He thought to himself. “YEAH!” Ass called out as he took a quick run across his tom-toms. “This is starting to come together.” Ronnie thought. All we need is a little lead. “Pete …” He started. “Already there, dude.” Pete replied before Ronnie could finish his sentence. Pete tore into a frenzied guitar solo. It met the rhythm, the pitch and the spirit of the riff. Ben and Ass made their adjustments and additions, always in perfect sync with each other. Ronnie stuck slavishly to the riff. They really started to cook. They had already been jamming for about twenty minutes. It had all come together and it was now a song. They continued for two more minute and then Ronnie dropped the riff. Seeing that Ronnie stopped, Ass let his arms go slack and dropped one stick on the head of the snared. Pete peeled off his solo, let go off his guitar and allowed it to dangle from his shoulder strap. “God damn.” Pete said. “That was fucking hot. Where did that come from?” “Dunno,” Ronnie replied. ”I been kickin it round up here for a while.” He said as he pointed to his head. “I like it.” Ass said enthusiastically. “Yeah, buddy.” Ben said as he continued playing the base line he just developed. “This fucker just plays itself, dude. I mean, listen.” They all bounced their heads in unison to Ben’s beat. “Got any lyrics?” Pete asked Ronnie. “I think so, but before I sing anything I wanted to see where you thought the breaks should be. Wanna listen to the tape?” “Yeah.” They said almost simultaneously. Ronnie crossed the room, stopped the tape and rewound it. They had quite the set up. Although Ronnie wasn’t a football star, Big Ron understood what music meant to Ronnie and he had purchased him an almost state-of-the-art recording facility. The tape was completely rewound, so Ronnie pressed play. They listened to what they had just spawned, three times. During each playback, they tinkered around with the sound to see where they could improve it. A few things changed, but not much. It was one of those extremely rare occasions where it just clicked. “So, what do you think?” Ronnie asked. “First off,” Pete started. “I like that tuning intro.” “What?” Ronnie asked surprised. “When I was warming up?” “Yeah, there’s something about that.” Pete explained. “It just … I don’t know …” “Like, you’re searching for something.” Ass added. “Yeah, searching.” Pete said. “One thing, though. After the pause, could you come in just a touch nastier? I think the nastier the better.” “I hear ya, let’s give it a go.” Ronnie said. “So, start like this?” He repeated the warm up strums he played at the beginning of the session, paused for a moment and blasted into the riff even raunchier than the first time around. “Like that?” Ronnie asked as he stopped playing. “Yeah dude, totally.” Pete said approvingly. “I like it.” Ass added enthusiastically. True to form, Ben just nodded his head. “Okay then, let’s put it together and see if my lyrics fit.” Ronnie said. “From the top. Again he began the same way and all four began to groove. It was loud, driving and very abrasive – just as it should be. This was the sound they wanted and each was playing the crap out of it. This was their sound. Just as Ronnie had started, Big Ron entered the garage from the doorway that led to the house. Big Ron actually enjoyed listening to Ronnie play. Although the style was a little heavier than he cared for, Ron could appreciate the talent the boys had. He listened as Ronnie began sing-screeching the lyrics to the new song. Big Ron could hear how the voice matched the music perfectly. It was impressive to hear. Tags: Fiction, Online Book, Rebeleyeball, Paul Gavin Copyright (c) 2006 Paul Gavin. All rights reserved.