Ghost In The Guitar - 2. Bad News for the Slacker Crew

Fabian arrived at The Grape in Philadelphia at 8:30, as usual for a Tuesday night. The Slacker Crew was in the middle of a ten-week Tuesday and Thursday gig there. As they were setting up, Fabian broke the news.

“Hey guys, and Jan, I have something to tell you all.”

Ernesto Edwards, the bass player, answered for the rest, “Fire away, man.”

“So, you guys know Stars and Slackers have been searching for a replacement for Russell, right?”

Keyboardist, Jan Walker responded, “Yeah, we don’t live under a rock, you know.”

“Okay, yeah. Well, I sent in an example to the email address the survivors set up.”

Davis Kaiser, the band’s other guitarist spoke up, “Yeah. So did I. Never heard shit back from them.”

“Well, I did. I made the final ten. Last night, I got word I’m one of the final three.”

Drummer Gordon Braun scoffed, “Yeah, and I just started dating Sadie Sink. And Jan’s marrying Jaeden Martell next week.”

“I’m serious.”

Ernesto blew him off completely, “Fine. Whatever. Let’s finish getting set up and you can continue this fairy tale after the show.”

Fabian was more than a little off that night. He was annoyed that the rest of the band didn’t believe him. After the show, Ernesto confronted him.

“Fuck, man. After a performance like that, there’s no way you’re getting a chance to replace Russell. Hell, many more like that and we’ll be replacing you.”

“Fine. You don’t believe me. Maybe you’ll believe this.”

Fabian showed them all the email.

Davis responded first, “No way. Is this righteous? You didn’t fake this?”

“It’s real.”

Gordon was the first to really believe, “Let’s get this boy a drink.”

“You know the club won’t serve him, Gord.”

Fabian was only nineteen. At two months younger than Jan, he was the youngest in the band. The other three had been together longer and were between twenty-two and twenty-four.

“Yeah, I know, E.E. It’s the thought that counts.”

“And then dies in that empty head of yours Gord.”

They all laughed at Jan’s joke and congratulated Fabian.

Ernesto was a realist, “I guess we may need to start a search for a new guitarist too, and you get a promotion, Dave.”

“Oh, no way. I’m not good enough to be lead. I’m happy where I’m at.”

“When does this happen, Fabe?”

“My official audition is November 27th, Jan. I gotta go up to Morristown.”

The next five and a half weeks passed as usual. Nobody forgot about Fabian’s good fortune, but nobody spoke of it either. Ernesto did start to put out feelers for a replacement. He knew how good his friend and bandmate was. He wouldn’t be surprised at all if Fabian got the gig.

******************************

Fabian left his apartment in Medford, NJ just before eight AM on the 27th. S&S wanted him at their studio in Morristown by ten. After a quick stop at Mickey D’s for breakfast, he walked into the studio’s lobby at five to ten carrying his guitar case. At two minutes after, Reid Leon, the band’s manager, came out to greet him.

“Good morning. You must be Fabian.”

“Good morning. I am. It’s nice to meet you Mr. Leon.”

“Damn, you’re young.”

“That’s not going to be a problem, is it?”

“Not if you can play as well as the guys say you can. How old are you, anyway?”

“I turned nineteen in March.”

“No offense, but you look more like fourteen. Well, come on back. We’re set up in a conference room for now. We’ll talk a bit first before hearing what you can do.”

“Okay. And no offense taken. I’ve even been told that I look like I was big for eleven.”

Reid chuckled, led him to the conference room and made introductions. Obviously, Fabian knew who each of the others were. He put his guitar case down in the corner and took a seat where he was told.

Reid started the interview portion, “Nigel showed me your emails. You say your band plays four of their songs?”

“Yes. Hell’s Doorway, Graveyard, The Final Days, and River Of Blood.”

“You didn’t say so, but I assume you act as lead guitarist for all four?”

“Yes. And everything else as well.”

“Let’s talk about everything else. How many songs do you typically play?”

“We usually play twelve to fifteen, depending on what the club wants. But we have eighteen total in our rotation.”

“Would you mind telling us what the other fourteen are?”

“Not at all.”

Fabian listed the rest of the songs the Slacker Crew typically played.(1) Reid and the rest were familiar with almost all of them.

“When we get into the studio, I’d like to hear some of Wings Of A Butterfly by H.I.M, and Black Sabbath’s War Pigs. One, because I’m not sure I know the first, and, well, you’ve got a guitar great there in Tony Iommi you’re playing.”

“Not a problem, Mr. Leon.”

“If we pick a few songs from the S&S catalog, would you need to skip any?”

“No. I know them all, a couple maybe not so well.”

The rest of the band had a number of questions, most of them more technical in nature than what Reid addressed. After nearly an hour, they moved into the studio.

Once there, the sound engineer, Matthew Parker, took the lead.

“We won’t be recording, but go ahead and plug into that amp there and warm up a little so I can get a baseline.

Fabian plugged in and played a few scales before Reid asked him to go into Wings Of A Butterfly.

He then played the four S&S songs his band included, and then they threw a few more at him. All of which he played well, if not flawlessly.

After playing over a dozen songs, Nigel made a request, “Go ahead and grab the green Les Paul over there from against the wall.”

“That isn’t…”

“Yes, it’s Russell’s. His family donated it to the band, hoping maybe a replacement would use it, to kind of keep him from being forgotten.”

“I doubt he’ll ever be forgotten, but I’d be honored to use it.”

“Pick it up and let’s hear Buried Alive.”

Buried Alive was one of the songs Fabian didn’t know as well. The main reason being it had a very difficult solo at the end. He was comfortable with the rest, but knew he’d probably struggle through the solo.

After three and a half minutes of playing nearly perfectly, he focused on his left hand on the frets. His right hand knew what strings to pick, but the moves his left would need to make took extreme concentration.

He dove into the solo and it was almost like his fingers were being remotely controlled. For only the second time he could remember, he hit every note. The members of S&S looked at each other, quite astounded at what they were hearing. They all knew how difficult the solo was, and Fabian was nailing it.

Two minutes and six seconds after beginning the solo, Fabian played the last four notes slowly, exactly as Russell would have.

Everyone was silent for a few moments. Fabian knew it wasn’t because he didn’t do well. Quite the contrary; he knew he’d played it perfectly. He thought he heard a voice in his head.

He’d missed something that Reid had said because of the voice.

“I’m sorry, I missed that.”

“You did look like you were listening to something else. I said, after that, I’m not sure I need to hear you do War Pigs.”

The voice had said, “Excellent. I knew you were the one.”

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