At 7:45 Gabe knocks three times on the door, his signature warning. Mark has just won the final game with an eight of diamonds and Duncan is cursing him.
“Fucker—that was my victory!”
George stands up and stretches as Gabe opens the door, holding a mug of hot water with honey and lemon. He hands it to George. Voice maintenance. George savours the hot, sweet liquid as it runs down the back of his throat. He catches sight of his reflection in the mirror and turns away. He doesn’t like to look too much. He thinks maybe he needs a haircut. Or perhaps he should grow a beard? George is wearing black jeans and a checked shirt with a white t-shirt underneath. He’s got his Tiger trainers on with the red laces—the ones he bought on Melrose Avenue last time they were in town.
He isn’t vain about what he wears on stage and refuses to accept a stylist, wary of the four of them looking like a bunch of wankers trying to emulate another band. Come to think of it, this hasn’t been discussed in a while. Maybe the rest of them have long hankered after themed outfits, but just can’t bring themselves to tell him.
“Okay, lads—ready?” asks Gabe.
“Steady, go!” says Duncan.
“Yes, sir,” says Mark.
“Couldn’t be readier,” adds Simon, licking the salt from his fingers and popping the final crisp into his mouth.
“Definitely maybe,” says George (classic Oasis) as the four of them follow Gabe out of the room.
Tonight the show will open with George and his guitar entering from the back of the theatre, a spotlight tracking him down the centre aisle. He’ll sing an acoustic version of “Grapefruit Girls”—an entirely fresh take on their biggest hit. The rest of the band will be waiting on stage.
The boys momentarily huddle, heads bent forward, arms resting on each other’s backs.
“May the force be with you,” says Simon.
“And also with you,” say George, Duncan and Mark in unison. Another ritual.
As they part ways, George’s guitar tech, Freddie, hands him his Martin and he’s ushered away by Gabe and a bouncer down a dim narrow hallway towards the front of the building. He predicted earlier that his nerves might spike before this show but now the hour has arrived, he feels weirdly calm, like he’s about to be tossed into the surf, but doesn’t yet realize the power of the current.
LEXI
November 21st, 2009
The Avid Theatre, Hollywood
Lexi scans the room attempting to get a profile of your average Thesis fan. It’s impossible. They seem to range from young guys in their twenties with low slung jeans and messy hair to fifty-year-old women accompanying their teenage daughters. Everyone is typing away madly on Blackberrys or iPhones—including Meg.
“What are you doing?” asks Lexi, tapping her shoulder.
“Updating my status on Facebook. I mean this is too good to pass up. Will you take a picture of me during the concert so I can post it?”
That afternoon Lexi had been enjoying feeling like a teenager again. Meg had called her a thousand times to consult on the appropriate outfit. Meg had finally decided to wear her new purple leather jacket bought on sale at Bloomingdales.
“You’ll have to get tickets to see Prince next,” teased Lexi.
Lexi had chosen her favorite night-time jeans, gladiator sandals and a loose orange shirt with three long, gold beaded necklaces. When she was putting on her lip gloss, she stepped back for a final appraisal, tilting her head to the left and smiling at her reflection, as if greeting an unexpected friend. When she was thirteen she would spend ages talking to imaginary boyfriends in her bathroom mirror, trying on outfits for varying events. Baseball games were popular. White shorts, colored tank top and her thick brown hair tied back in a bouncy high ponytail. Her imaginary boyfriend was always the star pitcher and winked at her when he arrived on the mound.
Tonight she feels pretty, but attempts to remind herself that it really doesn’t matter how lovely she looks. Even if the hottest guy sat down next to her, right now, she’s resolved to not give into temptation and allow herself to be swept away by him. Even if he tells her he used to play baseball. It’s bound to end in tears, with her becoming so wrapped up in him that she loses her mind, or her job, or both. He’s surely got a string of ex-girlfriends in his past who have fallen in the wake of his charms and never recovered. In fact, she’s starting to really dislike this potential hot guy who is nowhere to be seen and is certainly not sitting next to her. And she’s even considering swapping seats with Meg if he shows up now.
Lexi’s internal diatribe against the nonexistent stranger is rudely interrupted by a young grungy-looking girl who has miraculously appeared in the neighboring seat. “Are these not like OMG tickets?” she says to both Lexi and Meg, who has finished with Facebook and is reapplying her lipstick.
“I know!” says Meg. “I love Thesis! They’re the best ever and George is going to be—”
“Spitting distance,” says the girl, completing Meg’s sentence for her. “Sp—itt—ing distance,” she drags out the word for emphasis. Lexi reckons she’s about twenty-two. Pierced nose and bed hair. No make-up except for thick black eyeliner.
“You think?” says Meg excitedly. “Do you think we’ll feel the saliva?”
“I hope so,” says the girl, turning to the guy she’s with and kissing him voraciously on the lips.
“Well, he’s surely feeling the saliva,” Lexi whispers to Meg, glancing around and noticing the theatre is now full to capacity.
GEORGE
21st November, 2009
The Avid Theatre, Hollywood
They emerge into the glare of the front foyer where the red floral carpet reminds George of London’s West End theatres and smells like an odd combination of his granny’s settee and spilt Guinness. This is mental. It’s as if instead of the main attraction he could transform into one of the punters, clutching a ticket, wondering where his seats are. He pictures himself at seventeen fumbling in his pocket after a show, searching for ten quid to buy a t-shirt, averting his eyes down. He used to be very familiar with carpet.
Gabe looks to George and nods. George returns the gesture. The bouncer mutters into his walkie-talkie and the carved wooden double doors in front of them are suddenly thrown open. The blast of excitement is palpable and warm. The audience are all seated and George can almost see the energy rising from the tops of their heads like a blurred frenzy of fireflies. The lights go down and the noise dips with them, turning instead into an anticipatory hum.
George takes one deep breath, strokes the smooth torso of his guitar, and steps fearlessly into the waves.
LEXI
November 21st, 2009
The Avid Theatre, Hollywood
There is a buzz in the room escalating by the second and then, suddenly—darkness. A hush settles, but not a silent one—a hush filled with murmurs and possibility. Lexi feels a shivery tingle down her spine, as somewhere behind her she hears the opening chords of an acoustic guitar.
GEORGE
21st November, 2009
The Avid Theatre, Hollywood
The first song is flawless. George strolls down the aisle serenading the audience with a wonderfully slow rendition of “Grapefruit Girls” almost unrecognizable from the original. He makes it to the stage without tripping (tripping is always one of his greatest fears) and when the rest of the band appear, the room erupts with rapturous applause. Just as the song is about to end, Duncan comes in on drums with Simon and Mark close behind. George lays his guitar down, sits at the piano and plays with a rhythmic passion as the song transforms back to its previous incarnation and the whole room explodes with approval.
LEXI
November 21st, 2009
The Avid Theatre, Hollywood
When George Bryce walks down the aisle with his guitar, there is a raw vulnerability in his voice that makes Lexi want to weep. The song is divine. She has heard it on the radio many times, but this is the one time that will forever stand out. Stripped back t
o the bone, she hears all the lyrics tonight and the catchy chorus becomes poignant. When the rest of the band join in, louder, faster, the song takes on a whirling force, coaxing Lexi and the entire crowd to stand up and dance. She finds herself singing along like everyone else, bouncing up and down with Meg, feeling deliciously unselfconscious. Mr. and Mrs. Saliva next to her are screaming their heads off.
GEORGE
21st November, 2009
The Avid Theatre, Hollywood
George is already sweating profusely by the end of the song—hazard of the job. He senses a raw energy in the room and (this will forever be the hardest part to explain) he feels elated by the love of their fans—like he’s receiving some kind of intravenous joy juice. When the clapping dies down, he whistles into the microphone.
“Forgive me for sounding so cheesy but you lot are really talented—you took that song and made it your own.” American Idol, X Factor, any of the reality talent show references reliably get a laugh. George likes to get a laugh. “In fact—I may just have to step aside and let each of you, one by one, come up here and do the singing.”
“I’ll come up there anytime, George!” a woman’s voice yells from the darkness.
“Well, thank you,” says George politely, “that’s an extremely generous offer. The boys and I love coming to this wonderful city of yours—you always make us feel very welcome indeed.”
LEXI
November 21st, 2009
The Avid Theatre, Hollywood
When the first song ends, George starts to talk in his delicious English accent. “I’d like to invite each one of you to come up here and sing,” he says with a cheeky grin that Lexi finds disturbingly attractive. He is irresistible.
“I’ll come up there anytime, George!” hollers Meg. Lexi violently elbows her best friend, not certain if she should be mortified or proud, but the crowd are all laughing and Meg is clearly thrilled by her own bravado. Mrs. Saliva leans over Lexi to give Meg a high five.
GEORGE
21st November, 2009
The Avid Theatre, Hollywood
“We love you, George!” booms another voice from the crowd.
“No doubt if I knew you—I would love you back,” replies George, without skipping a beat. Everyone laughs again. The banter with the crowd wasn’t always easy like this. In the early days of performing, he used to be paralyzed with fright and could barely manage a hello, but in time and with practice, he has acquired immaculate comic timing. More recently though, with mostly stadiums to perform, the audience feel miles away.
“Shall we get on with it then?” George asks, and the crowd respond with more cheers and whistles, as he plays the opening bars of “Under The Radar,” pressing his lips close to the microphone.
how could I have missed you
left someone else to kiss you
you slipped under the radar
I was looking away
LEXI
November 21st, 2009
The Avid Theatre, Hollywood
The night unfolds with a seamless magic and Lexi is captivated by every song.“Does he write all the lyrics?” she asks Meg at one point, after he has sung “I Knew It” accompanied by bongo drums.
“I think so,” says Meg. “Or maybe with Simon, the redhead on the guitar. They’re friends from school—I’ve done all my research on Wikipedia.”
Lexi wonders about the process of writing a song. She then begins to wonder about his relationships with the other band members. Are they all friends from school? The other three are cute as well, the drummer especially has enormous charisma, and George somehow manages to convey a camaraderie with all of them. He’s the leader though. There is no doubt about that.
She marvels at the massive reserves of self-confidence he must have to do what he does, and to do it apparently so effortlessly. She then begins to imagine how many women he must have available to him. How old is he? Does he have a girlfriend? And before she can stop herself, she’s picturing pressing her cheek to his sweaty chest minutes after he comes off the stage. In fact, she thinks, why bother with the chest? Let’s go straight to the lips.
GEORGE
21st November, 2009
The Avid Theatre, Hollywood
Despite yesterday’s friction, the show is going better than George had ever expected. The four of them are soaring and George wishes he could stop everything, just for a moment, and turn to his band mates, his three best friends and say, “See. This is why it works. This is why.” But he can’t, so he navigates the stage instead, going up to each of the boys at varying intervals and sharing a joke, or playfully leaning into them, or introducing a solo. When he sits back down at the piano to sing “Corners and Tables” he flubs a line, and smiles at Simon, who says to the audience, “Please accept our apologies—he doesn’t get out much.” The whole room cracks up and they start the song again from the beginning.
LEXI
November 21st, 2009
The Avid Theatre, Hollywood
George continues to sing and the audience, Lexi included, continue to adore him.
He stops every two or three songs and makes a funny comment or tells a story with a relaxed casualness. He even forgets some of the lyrics and laughing, starts the song from the beginning. His fallible side makes him all the more endearing.
“I hope you’re enjoying yourselves?” he asks, an hour into the show. The crowd shout and clap in appreciation.
“That’s good to know, because we certainly are. In fact, Gabe,” he calls to someone off stage, “Why don’t we bring up the house lights for this next song. It’s a special one and I want to see your reaction to the extra special visitor who’s going to help us out.”
The house lights come up and an ethereal looking blonde woman wafts onto the stage; a golden harp wheeled in behind her. She has long, thin, blond hair almost reaching her butt and is wearing a white cotton floaty dress.
“Please say hello to Andrea Evans, who is kindly on loan to us for the evening from none other than the Los Angeles Philharmonic.” More clapping and whistling as George greets her and takes her hand.
“Is that his girlfriend?” Lexi asks Meg, indignant at the nerve of this woman inconsiderately intruding on her fantasy.
“Not sure,” says Meg, “but she’s gorgeous, isn’t she?”
George and Andrea are positioned now together at the front of the stage. She is perched next to her harp looking like a mermaid, and he’s on a stool with his guitar. They begin to play “A Suitable Dawn.” Lexi wants to drift away on the crest of her favorite song. She loves this track so much. And of course he wrote it for Andrea—she can feel the chemistry between them on stage. It’s so obvious. She was the lucky girl.
GEORGE
21st November, 2009
The Avid Theatre, Hollywood
When it comes time for “A Suitable Dawn,” George spontaneously decides to ask for the house lights on. He wants to look at the audience and doesn’t feel too daunted at the prospect of seeing faces. He’s unusually resilient tonight. He welcomes Andrea Evans onto the stage, whose work he really admires. As recently revealed in NME’s Top Ten Tastes column, George listens to a huge spectrum of music and classical is an important influence. When Andrea comes on stage, he takes her hand, thinking how lovely she looks. He met her six years ago when they first recorded in LA. Her husband is a successful conductor, twenty years older than her, and George usually ends up having dinner with them when he’s in town. Andrea’s looking exceptionally well tonight, considering she’s just had a baby three months ago.
LEXI
November 21st, 2009
The Avid Theatre, Hollywood
Lexi is reeled in by George’s mesmerizing voice and the heavenly harp, and something deep inside of her is shimmering. She’s singing along to the words and imagining he is singing just for her. And then the strangest thing happens. She could swear he makes eye contact with her. He’s singing “A Suitable Dawn” and he’s looking directly at her. Or at le
ast she feels like he’s looking directly at her. She holds his gaze for a number of seconds, feeling, bizarrely, like she is the only person in the room. He can’t possibly have noticed me, Lexi scolds herself, cursing her mother for raising her with such an overinflated ego. Especially when he’s up there with his super model harpist who probably isn’t wearing any underwear.
As quickly as it arrived, the moment disappears. The house lights go down, sinking the audience back into darkness. Lexi feels intoxicated by it all. By how very real the connection felt—as if she’s been harboring a secret for the longest time, only to discover that it’s his secret too.
GEORGE
21st November, 2009
The Avid Theatre, Hollywood
Halfway through “A Suitable Dawn,” something happens. George catches the eye of a woman in the crowd. She’s almost dead centre in the third row. There are other women around her, but she’s wearing orange and it’s as if she’s three dimensional, a technicolour figure on a flat grey backdrop. He recognizes her, maybe. From where? He meets so many new faces every day. Record company? Radio station? He’s actually locked eyes with her and realizes it might be for too long and looks away to the women beside her, and around the rest of the room. But he doesn’t lose sight of her. She’s shining. She’s beautiful. And she’s singing his words back to him.
So many people singing his song. So many people who don’t really know him. The words are flowing out of his mouth without thought, just feeling. He must have sung this song of longing a thousand times. Andrea is elegantly strumming the harp. And then it comes to him, like a flash from a dream you don’t remember having. Running. She was the woman who ran by him three days ago. He’s sure of it. She was the woman who was crying.
Playing Along Page 11
