Concerto In D Minor

Concerto In D Minor

Under cover of night, a funeral procession creeps through the streets of LA to the Gibson
Amphitheater. 500,000 fans wait in silence in their seats as the tension becomes a lead
sheet. The band has yet to show. A flash on the screen behind the stage and a countdown grab the audience's attention and a live feed from the front of the building dominate the screen. The lcd bars for ads all read 'silence please' and the crowd's roar falls to a dull murmur. What is going on here? This question sits on each concertgoer's mind as the hearse pulls within view of the camera. The hydraulic lift on the hearse's hatch push it open ceremoniously as four figures step lithely out from the limo behind it. The men are all dressed in black suits and ties save one, who is wearing a burgundy suit in the same cut as the others. They are all wearing dark sunglasses and fedora-style hats in their respective colors. The group steps forward to the hearse's rear as the coffin begins to slide out. They bear the coffin on their shoulders and start walking toward the theatre. They walk in through the main entrance with a dark form of grace rarely seen in a place for entertainment. Upon their coming through the door to the theatre's main room, the coffin istaken up by four other men in black t-shirts and jeans, all of these men wearing sunglasses and nothing on their bald heads. The three men in black suits take up a pace easily twice that of the somber procession towards the stage. The man in the burgundy suit walks at the same pace about five feet in front of the coffin. The crowd watches with bated breath as they consider the possibilties tonight's event has. Eventually the procession reaches the stage, the three men in black suits having retreated behind. The macabre group holding the coffin slowly and measuredly place the coffin at the ground parallel to the crowd in front of the man in red. The three other men, having changed and procured instruments, step onto the stage, which presently is lit with brilliant gold light. Another man, he also in a black t-shirt and jeans, walks up to the man in the blood-colored suit. He takes the man's coat, hat glasses, and tie, leaving the man to stand there in red pants and a white half-buttoned shirt. By now the crowd comprehends the situation and a cry starts going up as they recognize the man as the man they came to see tonight. The man reaches down and opens the coffin, taking from its velvet interior a guitar. Nothing is heard but the-now slightly sedated- roar of the crowd as the man slings the black, contorted, seven-stringed instrument around his torso.

I raise my hand high into the air and it's as if I'm the only man in the world for these
people. Hysterical screaming and low, anxious yells come forth from the mass gathered here to see the show tonight. As I adjust the volume, I take a deep breath and prepare for the biggest night of my life. I pick the first note of the night, this being the beginning of a very slow, somber introduction. The crowd watches intently, anticipating what is to happen next. After a particularly drawn out slide down the full length of the neck, I stomp on a pedal that throws my sound into a heavy distortion, stum four times muted, and jump into the latest chart-topper. The crowd's energy pumps into me as the band joins in and we slam our sound deep, shaking the cores of 500,000 people and no doubt allowing millions more at home the chance of a lifetime. Never in my life have I felt so complete, so content, so....perfect. Knowing I will never have another shot at this, I play my solos long, Putting everything I've ever known or felt behind them. Each wail and scream dumps another shovelful of dirt into the deep crevaces left by previous devastations. I play for Angela, for Jane, for everyone who's ever wronged me and everyone I had to leave. For Mom and Dad, for Kyle, for CJ, for everyone I've known to die and everyone from the life I lived before that fateful night five years ago.

The night progresses and the crowd's cheers only get louder. We finish on our top hit, and a full twenty minutes after we leave the stage, the unrelenting cries of 'encore' and 'we want more' get the better of us and we head back out. We wait 'til the screams subside a little and without a word, we play it. The one-time masterpiece. The song we'd been working on for the last two years, just waiting until the perfect night to unveil it. Nobody ever before has heard anything like it, and nobody ever will again.

This is it.
You know how they say that every man has his one defining moment in life?
I suddenly realize this is the best I will ever be.
The best I can ever hope for.
He told me this night would come, and I'd know it.

After the last note rings out it's full value, we offer the crowd our thanks and goodbyes,

and when the other guys head to the after party, I get in my Black '68 Camaro Convertible

and head out to the place where it all happened for me.

I need to make good on a deal.