Broken Strings

Stevie counts it off.

Drum sticks.

Holding them above his head for the full effect.

And we hit the riff.

Just like we rehearsed it.

That riff that I found at 10pm sitting on the couch watching the TV.

And I look out at the crowd.

And they look like they are into it.

Annie comes over and leans in, bass slung low, and shouts in my ear.

Something.

I can’t hear it.

But she smiles and walks out to the front of the stage.

And we hit the solo.

And I’m bending the B string and the fucker snaps.

Gone.

Fuck man.

I had this all figured out.

I look at Stevie and he laughs.

I look out at the crowd and some folk have clocked it.

There’s some smiles and laughter.

But fuck it.

I dig in.

And just rip the fuck out of a solo on the remaining five strings.

Up to the 12th fret.

It sounds fat on the lower strings and then cuts through when I jump to the 1st string.

Annie looks back round at me and comes over and we stand facing each other, Stevie pounding the drums.

And I’m laughing.

But it works.