Entry #675823, added on 11-11-09 @ 10:52 pm EST
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| 2013 and getting back up to speed | Entry #675823 |
Next day was really the beginning. A decision was made that would eventually rocket them to stardom.
Matt came over with his actual guitars. He was first, again. Braden texted Josh and Matt texted Jess.
“I looked through all the one-hit wonder songs I could find, listened to them, and this is the one I think we should start with:” Matt said, handing Braden his iPod. Braden plugged it into his surround sound system, and the most fun, catchy, addictive song he had ever heard poured all over his brain.
“Now, listen… I wanna shake, I wanna dance…” the singer informed his listeners. Braden was bobbing his head.
“What is this?” he asked.
Matt grinned. “Autograph, ‘Turn up the Radio’,” he said. “Glam metal from the 80s, Uncle Razz will love it.”
“Awesome,” Braden said. They listened to the song twice more. Uncle Razz came in during the third listen, let in by the maid.
He descended the stairs saying, “Autograph! Excellent choice! Please tell me you’re going to cover this song!”
Braden and Matt grinned. Uncle Razz looked like he had consulted his Autograph album cover before dressing that day. He was even more 80s glam than yesterday: bigger, frizzier hair, yellow spandex with black and white blotches, and another mesh t-shirt, this one with bigger mesh than the day before, all topped off with a feather headband.
“Unc,” Braden said, “where did you get your attire?”
Uncle Razz struck a pose. “D’ya like it? I kept all this stuff from the ol’ Shok Shop days. Knew I’d get a chance to wear it again some day.”
“Shok Shop?” Matt asked.
“My old band, man,” Uncle Razz answered, mystified that Matt had never heard of Shok Shop. “So, check this out.” He turned on his laptop.
Josh and Jess came in at the same time, Jess with her hand drum, and they stood peering over everyone’s shoulders, all in breathless anticipation at Uncle Razz’s creation.
The website was beautiful. Razzamatazz dazzled across the top in sparkly, zig-zaggy letters, red, white, and blue on a black background. There were sparkles everywhere, and floating in the sparkly blackness were Braden, Matt, Jess, and Josh, in close-cropped black-and-white beauty.
The band was in awe. “How did you do that?” Braden asked.
“Watch this,” Uncle Razz said. As he moved the pointer over the screen, it left a trail of sparkle dust. When he hovered over the four floating band members, their names popped up in a snappy sparkle: Braden, Matt, Josh, and Jess.
“That’s all we have so far,” Uncle Razz said, “but I’m going to add areas so when we click on you, your bio and some more pics show. We’ll have to put audio clips on here, and get some pics or video of you actually performing. So, next step, record that song.”
“What song?” Josh asked.
“Allow me,” Matt said, and played the Autograph song for the fourth time in the rec room.
There was general agreement; all present in the rec room were bobbing their heads, and Matt started singing along.
“Do we need, like, to pay or something to cover this song?” Matt asked.
“Oh, yes,” Uncle Razz said. “I looked into this. Or, rather, my lawyer did. We need to find out who holds the copyright to this song, and then pay them. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of all that. You kids just need to learn how to play the song. You can play it live for free, but when we record it, we need to pay. Licensing fee and royalties.”
“Blah blah blah, Unc,” Braden said. “I’m glad you have a lawyer for that crap. Too many big words for us.”
The guys laughed their agreement.
“Well,” Uncle Razz said, “If you release a whole CD of these cover songs –“
“Which we will,” Braden interrupted.
“That’s gonna cost you, somewhere between a thousand and two thousand dollars,” Uncle Razz finished. “Notice I said ‘you.’”
“I’m sure that if I ever get a chance to talk to me dad, he’ll be thrilled to pay. He’s always wanted me to do something, like, what he refers to as ‘productive’. Anyhow, that’ll be cheaper than our round-the-world gap-year trip, eh guys?”
The guys agreed. “My dad will pay for stuff, too,” Josh said.
“Yeah,” Matt agreed.
Jess didn’t say anything.
“Don’t worry,” Matt reassured her. “If anything sells our records, it’ll be your drumming.”
“And my face!” Braden said, pointing at it. “Our biggest commodity!”
“Where do we get the music to this song?” Josh asked.
“Music?” Braden asked.
“Yeah, meathead,” Matt said. “Those of us who are actually going to play the song need sheet music.”
Uncle Razz laughed. “My job, again. We have to find out who wrote the song, and who publishes it, and buy it.”
“Go, Unc!” Braden said. “Except for the lyrics, which are all over the internet…” He started searching and within minutes had the lyrics printed off.
Josh and Matt, meanwhile, were composing their band member bios on their laptops.
“Stunningly good-looking,” Josh said. “Mine has to mention how good-looking I am, and that chicks dig me. How do you spell stunningly?”
Matt said, “You are only allowed to use words you can spell in your bio, wanker.”
“Come on, dude. One N or two?”
Jess sat at the drum kit and started playing a little rhythm.
“We should have a MySpace page,” Braden said.
“After you record a song,” Uncle Razz said.
“Whaddya wanna call our album?” Matt asked.
“We need to start getting gigs,” Josh said, pleased with his use of the lingo.
“After you learn to play some songs,” Uncle Razz said.
“How? We don’t have any music,” Matt said.
Uncle Razz grinned his evilest grin. “I just happen to have,” he said, “In my briefcase…”
Braden groaned. “Not Shok Shop songs,” he said. “Unc, we’re not Shok Shop.”
“Well, we did our fair share of covering,” Uncle Razz said. “That’s how you drum up interest in the first place. If you want gigs, I mean. You start out with some covers, so people will want to listen to you. Then you introduce your own work.”
“Or, don’t,” Braden said.
Uncle Razz started reading off the cover tunes he had music for.
“Billy Joel, ‘Big Shot’, Jimi Hendrix, ‘Foxy Lady’, ooh, here’s some good stuff right here: Black Sabbath, ‘Paranoid’…” He kept flipping. Nobody had heard of any of the songs. “Oh, this is great: Van Halen, ‘Jump’! That’s the real Halen, too.”
Matt said, “None of that is one-hit wonder stuff, is it?”
Uncle Razz shook his head. “You should play something, though, just to get used to playing together. While we pick some songs for you and get the music. Ratt, ‘Round and Round’, Aerosmith, ‘Sweet Emotion’ –“
“That one,” Jess said.
Everyone looked at her. Jess was not a talker, so when she did talk, it seemed like a good idea to listen. Without another word, Uncle Razz started handing out the parts. He gave the bass guitar and second guitar parts to Josh, who looked at them with nothing but mystification on his face. Braden waved the lyrics sheet away.
“Brae, just need to hear what we have to work with,” Uncle Razz said.
“Let them start,” Braden said. “I’m working on my bio.” He sat in front of his desktop computer.
There was nary a music stand in the rec room. Matt tried to stuff his copy between sofa cushions so he could read it from where he was standing, his guitar strapped on. Josh had little luck getting the old, floppy paper to stand up in the little clips at the top of his keyboard stand. Jess lay hers on one drum, then another, trying to decide which drum would get the least use during this song.
Uncle Razz burst out laughing.
“What?” Josh and Matt asked.
“I just had a mental image of you little dudes with those marching band headpieces, you know? The ones where you clip the music in front of your face? Man, that would be awesome…”
Uncle Razz made makeshift music stands using file folders and bulldog clips from his briefcase, clipping the music to anything he could find. They were off.
Razzamatazz’s first attempt at music together sounded like a flock geese getting simultaneously run over by a hummer and shot at by an army of four-year-olds carrying sawed-off shotguns. Braden put his hands over his ears and the maid, this time really worried, appeared at the top of the stairs, but only briefly before closing the rec room door.
The attempt to produce music lasted for about thirty seconds before, one by one, they gave up. Braden broke into hysterical laughter, and the others joined in. Even Jess smiled.
Uncle Razz had his hands cradling his head, as if it was about to explode. His voice muffled, he said between his elbows, “Let’s try this.”
They waited, still giggling, until he thought it was safe to come out of turtle-position, and then he said, in a low, frightened voice, “Jess, you first. Just Jess.”
Jess hammered off the Aerosmith drum beat to perfection. She went through the whole song, nobody stopping her or protesting, and finished off with a long roll on the snare and a finalizing smash on the high hat.
Uncle Razz nodded, and Matt gave a low whistle.
Uncle Razz said, “That’s your leader, right there. The rest of you guys have to listen and follow. Everybody always follow Jess.”
Matt and Josh nodded. Braden turned back towards the computer and started banging on the keys, to prove that he was ignoring everything that was going on in the musical end of things.
“Now,” Uncle Razz said, “Josh, you go. Just Josh.”
It took a while for Josh to get the rhythm and the sound, but after about a minute he was getting somewhere.
“I’m not used to playing without some kind of beat,” he said after a while, and switched on the rock beat on his main keyboard.
“Well,” Uncle Razz said, “Maybe then you’d better try to go with Jess’s beat, since she’s your drummer now, not the keyboard.”
Reluctantly, Josh switched off the keyboard drum beat.
“How about it, Jess,” Uncle Razz said. “Just give him a very basic beat.”
“Yeah, cuz he ain’t too bright,” Matt said. “Nothing more complicated than the stock drum beats that come with that keyboard of his, kay?”
Josh sneered at Matt, and Jess tapped him in with four beats on the edge of the snare… tap tap tap tap.
This time, Josh followed along pretty well. After about a minute, it was like they’d been playing together for, well, about a minute.
Matt was tapping his foot and really getting into it. “Now me,” he said.
Uncle Razz shook a hand at him, one of those ‘Shut up and be still’ shakes, and still holding his hand out, one of those ‘Stop it right there’ hand-hold-outs, said “Wait, let them get it together.”
They kept going for another minute or so, and it was starting to sound pretty good. Not like a song, just the drum beat and back-up. Like a cheap Karaoke version, and you’re expecting the electro-flute to come in with the melody any second now.
Uncle Razz waved his arms and Jess and Josh quieted. “Start again,” Uncle Razz instructed them, “and this time, Matt, you count in.”
This time they produced something that sounded like music. Not Karaoke music, either, but actual music. Music that lacks a singer.
Braden was sneaking a peek, and Uncle Razz noticed him. Uncle Razz nodded to Braden, and said, “Not bad, hey?”
Braden quickly turned back to his computer. So far he had written “Braden James – Exceptionally good-looking flamboyant front-man. Braden is the heart, soul, energy, and zing behind everything Razzamatazz…” He started deleting. There had to be a better way to describe his awesomeness, and get across the fact that he was the most important part, nay, the very keystone of Razzamatazz.
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