Almost immediately, she flipped back into the super-pleasant mode. “If you guys want to give me a demo, I’d be happy to give it a listen.”
So that’s what it was. She was used to being approached by people who were hoping that she could help out their own projects, use her in some way. Well, luckily for us, we didn’t have a demo worth giving her anyway. And if we had brought it and tried to give it to her, all it would have done was solidify in her mind that we were just like everybody else.
“We don’t have a demo. Actually, the reason that we wanted to meet you is to let you know that, I guess, you’re a bit of a role model to us.”
“Oh, that’s very sweet of you to say.”
“No, seriously. There aren’t many women in metal. You’re one of the few, and as we’re just starting out in a band, I mean, I guess we just wanted to get some of your perspectives on things. I mean, you’re amazing onstage. You don’t take any crap from anyone.”
“And you’re a great bass player,” Fern added.
Marie-Lise took a sip of her coffee. “That’s nice of you guys to say. And I mean . . . yeah. You’re right. Things were pretty difficult, especially at the beginning.”
She took out a cigarette and lit it. Fern quickly reached into her own purse and took one out, and inwardly I rolled my eyes.
“To be honest with you guys, I mean, I’ve met girls like you before. Girls who are in bands, just starting things out. And you never hear anything from them again. It’s like they lose interest. Or maybe something happens that discourages them, you know? And they don’t think they’re going to have a place in this business.” Marie-Lise blew smoke thoughtfully. “When I got started, I met a lot of assholes. People who just don’t think that a girl should be there, you know? More like, the girls should be waiting offstage to boost the guys’ egos and stuff.”
“I totally know,” I said, nodding.
“And even now, I mean, sure. Sometimes I still meet up with someone who wants to disrespect me. Sometimes it’s someone in the crowd, sometimes it’s someone behind the scenes that’s supposed to be there to help me.”
“So how do you deal with it?” I asked.
She grinned, relaxing. “Well, I mean, if it’s someone in the crowd, I love that. I’ll punch him right in the face. You just can’t let it get to you, can’t let it do anything to affect what you’re doing. My whole thing is — what if I got upset onstage? There’s one asshole there who wants to disrespect me, and there’s five hundred people there who are giving me a chance, and there’s another four hundred and ninety-nine who think I’m awesome. This is one person. And if I were to burst into tears, or walk offstage, I would be changing nine hundred and ninety-nine people’s opinions of me. Over one jerk.”
“That’s true,” I agreed.
“See, when you’re in this business, you need to have a goal. That’s what I think. A reason that you’re doing it. Something to keep in your mind to focus on and work towards. So when you’re at your lowest you can picture whatever it is in your mind, and remind yourself why you’re not going to quit.” She grinned. “Because you’re going to want to quit. And you probably will, in all honesty. Most people do. It’s not all glitz and glam like everyone thinks.”
“What’s it like?” Fern said.
“Work is what it is. Hard work. And it doesn’t pay off. If making money is your goal, I’d suggest finding a new one. Only a few bands make it really big and make that money and have that lifestyle. Everyone else struggles. We’re still struggling and we’ve been in the band for seven years now.”