27
“So this past winter, this English band came through Athens – Gobsmacked. It’s some weird British slang or something. Nobody had ever heard of them, but they played at the Georgia Theater on a Tuesday when it was dead. They were pretty good, but the guitarist was incredible. I mean, f*cking astounding. He was this little guy with long, black hair, kind of puffy and messed up, and he just let it hang loose down his back. He was older than the rest of the band, probably about 30, and he wore black from head to foot – black shirt, black pants, black trench coat down to his ankles. He was just… it was incredible. He’d launch off on these long solos that were just inspired. The band would kind of stand around while he did it – you could tell the lead singer was pissed, because everybody loved the guitarist and not him – and then they’d come back and finish the rest of the song. But the guy was amazing. I asked around afterward and found out his name was Killian Lee.
“They were playing the next night at the 40 Watt, so I told Ryan we HAD to go see him. Ryan was all freaked out – ”
“I was not,” Ryan protested.
“ – cause it was a school night – ”
“Shut up,” Ryan said, and gave me a nervous glance for some reason.
“But I told him if he didn’t go, he would regret it for the rest of his life. Didn’t I?”
“…yes.”
“And was I right?”
“Yeah, yeah, you were right,” Ryan muttered. “Just finish the story.”
“So anyway, Ryan snuck out and we went to the show – and the guitarist was even better the second night. I mean, he blew Ryan away. It was awesome.”
Ryan nodded enthusiastically.
“So after the show, I’m all like, ‘We’ve gotta go meet this guy.’ And Ryan’s like, ‘NUNH-UNH.’ And I’m like, ‘Well, I’M going to go meet him,’ so Ryan finally gave in and we go backstage while all the roadies are loading up the equipment and the rest of the band are getting smashed. Killian’s back there sitting on a folding chair, just doodling on his electric guitar, smoking a joint, just kind of off in his own little hippy-dippy world. And I go up to him and stick my hand out and say, ‘I’m Derek Kane.’
“He smiles real peaceful-like, totally laid back, and sticks out his hand. ‘Nice to meetcha, mate.’”
I cannot stress how adorable Derek’s bad English accent was.
“So Ryan gushes all over him – ”
“I was not gushing,” Ryan said crossly.
“ – and Killian just smiles like he’s stoned, but the whole time he’s playing his guitar – just little whispers of his fingers over the strings. It’s not plugged in, so you can barely hear him, but he’s just playing non-stop, even while he’s talking to us, like his brain and his hands are disconnected.
“So I say, ‘We’re in a band. And one day we’re going to get you to be our guitarist.’”
I frowned in disbelief. That was a pretty ballsy thing to say.
“Ryan looks at me like I’m crazy, but Killian just laughed, took a hit on his joint, and nodded his head. ‘Well… let me hear you first,’ he says.
“Ryan doesn’t have an instrument, obviously, so Killian tells one of the roadies to bring the bass guitar stuff over. The bassist is pissed, but Killian tells him to f*ck off, he’s going to quit Gobsmacked and join our band if he doesn’t let Ryan borrow the bass. So the bassist threatens to cut Ryan’s balls off if he f*cks up his bass, and then he goes off to get drunk. Ryan’s freaking out at this point, but I couldn’t be happier.
“Killian asks what we want to play, and I say, ‘Whole Lotta Love,’ which is a Zeppelin tune. Killian nods like he’s happy to hear it. Ryan’s killer at this – we’ve practiced it, like, fifty times here in the basement – so we launch into it, and it’s awesome. I’m pretty good, Ryan’s losing his nervousness, and Killian just owns the song. It was like we’re playing with f*ckin’ Jimmy Page. We actually start attracting a little crowd.
“Then Killian is like, ‘What’s next?’ and I say ‘Higher Ground,’ and he says, ‘Stevie or Peppers?’ because the Chili Peppers covered the original Stevie Wonder song, and I say, ‘Chili Peppers.’ Killian tells some guy to go get the drummer from Gobsmacked, and he comes back and he’s pissed, but Killian tells him ‘Get on the drums, mate, we’re doin’ the Chili Peppers’ ‘Higher Ground.’ So the guy does, and it ROCKS. We’re getting a bigger crowd. We play a couple more songs, and people are totally into it, but the lead singer comes back in and he is PISSED that he’s not the center of attention, and he and the bassist basically get the roadies to load all the equipment up and tell us to f*ck off.
“Killian flips them off and looks back at us and says, ‘You guys are good. Really good. You – ’ and he points to Ryan – ‘are technically excellent. You just need to get more of a feel for it. You need to get spiritual with it. Let the music own you. And you – ’ and he points to me – ‘you’ve got that ‘something’ you need to be a great lead singer. You just need to stop mimicking those other people. Stop imitating them. Find your own voice. It’ll take awhile, but if you do it, you’ll be unstoppable.’”
It was actually really good advice. It put a finger on the one thing I’d noticed subconsciously about the songs: Derek sounded like himself… but he also sounded like a couple of other, better-known singers. He didn’t quite sound… unique, if that made any sense.
Derek continued, “Then he smiles and shakes our hands and says, ‘That was a pleasure, mate. We should do it again sometime.’
“And I say, ‘When he gets better at feeling the music, and I find my voice, I want you to be in our band.’
“And he laughs and he says, ‘You do that, both of you, and I will definitely leave this shitty outfit, or whatever outfit I’m in, and I’ll back you.’
“And then he waves goodbye and walks out into the night strumming his guitar, no amp, just the metallic strings dying away in the night air.”
I could see it in my mind’s eye – the mystery man walking out into the night, his trench coat swirling the fog behind him.
“From that moment, I was hooked,” Derek said, his eyes on fire. “I was a man possessed. I’m going to find my voice if it kills me, and Ryan’s going to go deeper and do whatever the f*ck he needs to do, and we’re going to get Killian Lee to join the band, and we’re going to be f*cking famous.”
The certainty and the passion with which he said it sent a shiver down my spine.
“Wow,” Shanna said, entranced.
“He didn’t mean it,” Ryan said glumly.
“Yes he did,” Derek said vehemently.
“He was just being nice.”
“No he wasn’t. Dude, that guy was too stoned to be telling anything but the truth. Anybody that cool, he’s not going to blow smoke up your ass. I just know it. He’s gonna be in the band.”
Ryan looked over at me, smiled, and rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”
It was funny – like Ryan was trying to impress me with his worldliness by dissing Derek’s naiveté.
“Yeah, ‘whatever’ yourself – you just watch, he’s gonna be in the band,” Derek shot back. Then he looked around distractedly. “I’m hungry – you guys hungry? Let’s go upstairs and see what’s in the fridge.”