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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/991002-A-Perfect-Performance
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by Scotty Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E · Short Story · Music · #991002
A detailed short read about a Concert going from bad to good on a last performance. Edited
A Perfect Performance


The crowd roared loudly as the Band took their break, sipping water, toying with their instruments. It had been rough going; several songs ended with sour faces due to missed chords, off beat drums, or faulty equipment, all mostly problems in their heads, They were on their last song, a long Instrumental, if they messed this one it was over. The crowd was almost satisfied, they'd heard the Album. But they were hoping to throw a performance at them that would blow their album outta the sky. It wasn't happening. They had to pull it together. Each member had planned on making this last performance something unforgettable. It was new, fresh, worthless without the best.

Manny, the Bassist/Vocals, was pissed beyond all belief, his fingers dripped blood. Ashley, the Painist/Keyboardist, popped her fingers in dissapointment. James, the Drummer, panted heavily, his arms hung limp at his sides. Scotty, the Rythm/Lead Guitarist, was furious, most of the messups were his. He'd missed a few chords, gotten songs mixed up, he felt worse than the others. His knuckles hurt from his pick slipping, causing him to slam his knuckles into the chords, rather than the pick.

They'd done this song before, in the garage at home, practicing untill they could hardly stand.
Making sure each note, each chord, each drum beat, was perfect. They'd gotten it right every other time. They had to get it this time.

They rested for five minutes before the crowd started getting impatient. They each looked at each other, giving nods of support. They were going to try no matter what, they were determined to pull off this last song.


" Our last song for you tonight is an Instrumental that wasn't released in the album. Pray that we get it right." - Manny's voice echoed through the building. They took their places, getting their heads straight, forcing themselves to beef up, get the show on the road. A drum roll set them off. They each took their turns passing rythms and chords back and forth, backed by intent drum beats. So far so good. The roar of the crowd blasted in their ears, along with the rumble of their amplifiers.

Manny was up with his solo. He played hard, hitting chord after chord, sliding, slamming, and repeating. The sound was amazing, rythmic beats of thunder coursing throughout the stage. The solo ended with a hard slam, sending echoes through each members chest. They were powered now, their spirits lifted. The solo seeming to bring life back to the members. He'd gotten it perfect.

Soon it was James's turn, his solo was fast, just how he liked it. His arms blurred through the air, the pulse of his drums like a heartbeat.

Ashley was up, her long notes carried clean and sharp, the synthisizer distorted each key to her desires. Soon it was the moment of truth, a hard jam, then it was Scott's turn. He was under the most pressure, his solo was to kick off an ending mixture of every instrument, an ending they all spent months working on.

He stepped up to the front of the stage, letting his pressence be known. A bass slam kicked him off, his fingers moved furiously to hit every chord, every slide, every bend, he was in his own world now. His solo started with a hard jam, throwing chords every direction, then a clean, smooth riff, then came his ending, a combonation of everything he ever learned. He smiled as the crowd went wild.

Now was the moment of truth, he slid into a hard jam, kicking off the ending. Each member playing the way they were meant to play. James's drumming, the heart of it all, brought life to the Music. Ashley's long, Gothic notes, put out a surrounding sense of suspense, horror. Scott's clean, clear, riffs lifted spirits. And the thunderous slams brought by Manny let everyone know they were alive. They had done it, everything was perfect, not a missed chord, not a failed attempt at a riff, this is what they wanted. This was it, this was the moment they'd hoped for. The Perfect Performance.

-The End
© Copyright 2005 Scotty (reaper3354 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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