Guitarist

Repost.

             I can hear the audience in front of me, the crowd screaming in such a roar that any words spoken are nonexistent. They fill my head, their noise causing a slight nervousness to arise, but I remember I am here because of them. I squint my eyes, trying to see them. Our singer is doing his little speech before the song, a crowd favorite, so I take the chance to grab my beer and take a swig. God, those lights are hot, their heat beating onto me like several suns. They are the reason I can't see the fans, lights made to make us plainly visible, but blinding we onstage. The minor discomforts of being a performer. 

            Apparently we are about to begin, the crowd is getting louder. Yep, the singer is taking his stance. I put my drink down and grab a pick from my pocket and place it between my lips, holding it for when it's needed. My fingers are already sliding into place for the first chords. I decide when we start, this song is mine. Hell, the singer may be our front man, but I am the reason for this band, my guitar our driving force. I look out to the blinding lights, raise my fingers gently to the strings, and strum out the chord, my fingers on the fret board stroking my guitar, my fingertips and thumbs caressing. I pause, holding a note out, and nod to the bassist.
            I grab the pick as he starts, thrumming a furious beat out, the drums and his bass weaving in a furious dance of rhythm. I make my guitar scream out, joining them, now playing hard, foreplay moving up in intensity. I dimly hear the singer's voice come in, translating the notes I make into words the audience understands and believes. I move in simple but intense rhythms that would have been hard had I still been a beginning player. These notes, these words, I wrote myself, spending hours in my garage building this piece. I can dimly hear my comrades playing their parts, pulling their weight in making this possible.
            The music builds in intensity, leading to the climax, my shining moment, and as it comes I let the music take control, my fingers flying faster than I could ever make them. Lightning seems to be coursing through my body as the swift solo flows from me like a river of molten steel, sweat pouring down my body from the effort of playing. My fingers move up and down the neck, the strings like veins of a living creature. Fire pounds from my instrument, passion of music burning my instrument. Pain starts to course through my fingertips, moving along the string so fast that the friction nearly sets them aflame. I let my guitar scream one last time, wailing out a long note that holds in the air for a few seconds as the singer and others push back in to finish the song.
            I leap back in with them, the calmer intense of the rest of the song. We pull it all together, pounding adrenalin into our listeners. I let my fingers move on their own, going on autopilot as I let my mind rest from the musical battle I just underwent. The bassist thrums out a slow rhythm in the end, slowing us to a complete stop. I let out a couple more notes, and the screams of the crowd sweeps over us, an enormous wave of sound emitted from thousands of listeners. We all relish our victory, another job well done.

Author's Note

The pic is Herman Li, of Dragonforce, kind of the inspiration for the piece. If you haven't heard Dragonforce's music, give it a listen sometime.

Reviews

[mrowepat]

Dragonforce is a great band. I've none of their records but have heard them many times on the radio. I remember the first time I heard them and thought, "holy s**t, this kicks serious a*s... who is this" and I had what is called a "driveway moment". I had to stay in my car and listen to another three songs and several commercials before find out the name of the band. :)

I've been playing guitar for many years and haven't played for more than a group of friends around a camp fire. I get nervous when I play for others and my fingers feel like they're made of rubber and don't move fast enough on the fretboard. Some beer is good for the tension, but I still get nervous. I don't however get nervous when I play with my friend Brian while having an audience. Strange, but I think I feed off his confidence.

I really enjoyed this piece, even though I've never played for more than 10 people at any one time. Great write, I felt like I was there and could even smell the stale beer!!!

[Mark]

You write in such a way as to permit the reader to crawl into your skin and experience your every sensation even as you do. This is the epitome of excellence in storytelling. Metaphors like, "the swift solo flows from me like a river of molten steel", and, "lightning seems to be coursing through my body", just make me believe that it was I on that whited-out stage, my fingertips bleeding. That is an enviable experience. Thank you for sharing.

[Deborah Leah Krempa]

Good story, well written. Thank you for sharing. Debileah