Another of the roadies, this one an accomplished guitarist that Jake had known for years and who had served as Jake’s personal assistant on the last Intemperance tour, carried Jake’s black and white Les Paul—the one he would be playing for the majority of the tunes—and plugged it in. The tone knobs and the distortion levels on the amp were already pre-set from the sound check, but they needed to make sure the final output was good. He turned the volume knob all the way up pushed down on the far-left effects pedal, giving him standard distortion. He strummed out a quick chord on the low E and A strings, sending a blast of guitar sound out over the crowd, who cheered loudly when they heard it.
“I’m going up about two tenths,” Sharon’s voice said from the portable radio. “Give me another one.”
She was given another one. She then asked for something on the high end. The roadie played out a brief little solo using the G and B strings. This fell within parameters.
“Okay, next!” yelled Jeff.
The roadie took Jake’s Les Paul backstage and returned a few moments later with Lenny’s candy apple red Telecaster. He plugged in and they went through the process once again, the crowd cheering every time they heard a guitar chord played.
They did not have to check every one of the guitars, just the guitar stations since any guitar played would be set to the same level on the board. They did have to check Natalie’s violin, and G’s keyboard, and Ben’s bass, and Laura’s sax. This went relatively quickly except for the sax. No one in the crew knew how to play one except for Laura herself and they did not want her stepping out onstage where the crowd could see her because her appearance during Blur was meant to be a surprise. They actually agonized over this for a few moments, debating between having her just step out there for a minute and hoping no one would recognize her or having someone who did not know how to play just blow in the thing to check the volume. And then the blindingly obvious occurred to Jake.
“Wait a minute,” he said. “She’s wireless! Why does she need to step out there? Can’t she just blow a few melodies from back here?”
Nobody actually slapped their forehead, but everyone felt the need.
Laura blew out a few brief pieces in different ranges and the sound of her horn was heard by a hundred thousand people. A few cheered, but most did not. It was to be the only horn of any kind that would be heard during the TSF and they were not quite sure what to make of it.
“All right,” Jeff declared after getting the final approval from Nerdly. “We’re good to go. We made it under the wire.”
Everyone looked up at the clocks on the wall. One gave the current time. It was 7:56:32 PM. The other was counting down minutes and seconds until showtime. It read 03:28.
The crowd, meanwhile, was starting to get louder, realizing the show was about to start. They were stomping their feet and cheering.
“All right,” Jeff said. “It’s almost time. Let’s get in position.”
Not everyone was going to be in the first number. Natalie and Laura and G did not have parts to play for the opener so they would stay backstage. But everyone gathered at the stage entrance anyway. Jake was given his black and white Les Paul, which he slung over his neck. Lenny was given his Telecaster and he did the same. Ben’s bass was out on the stage, leaning against the drum platform, already plugged in. Ted had a pair of drumsticks in his hand. They gathered in a circle and waited. Jake felt the stage fright he always felt to some degree coming to a peak. Ninety-five thousand people out there, kept going through his mind. Can we really do this? Is my band really up for this?
He looked over at Pauline. She would sing backup on the choruses for this first number and she looked absolutely terrified. Her stage fright was probably fifty to a hundred times greater than what he was feeling.
“You okay, Paulie?” he asked her.
“I don’t know,” she said, chewing her lip a little. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this scared in my life.”
“Just go out there and do what we’ve been practicing,” he told her. “You know your parts. And I know you probably won’t believe me, but this is the truth: The fear is as great as it’s going to get at this moment, right before we go out. Once you step out there and start singing, once you realize that you’re not fucking anything up, that fear will drop away and be replaced by something that is right up there with sex.”
She nodded. It was unclear whether or not she believed him.
The countdown timer reached one minute. From seemingly nowhere, Adam Crowler, another of the MCs, appeared. He looked at the band and smiled. “Everyone ready?” he asked.
“We’re ready,” Jake said.
“Then let’s do it,” he said. He stepped out on the stage and walked up to Jake’s microphone. The crowd, seeing him appear, began to cheer again. “How is everyone doing out there tonight?”
They roared that they were doing pretty damn good.
“Good, good,” Adam said. “It’s now time for our second-to-last act of the night. This is an artist who has put out several best-selling CDs over the past few years as a solo artist but who has not toured or played a complete show of his material since his days playing with a little band called Intemperance. Have you heard of Intemperance?”
The crowd had heard of Intemperance and let him know this.
“All right,” Adam said. “Well, we have him here tonight to perform his solo material for us at the TSF. I give you the one, the only, the legendary, Jake Kingsley!”
The roar of the crowd was the loudest Jake had heard all night and he basked in it for a moment. They really do want to hear us, he thought happily.
“All right, guys!” he yelled to his band. “Let’s do it!” He held his right hand out, palm up.
G got the idea first. He slapped his hand down on Jake’s. Lenny followed. Laura then Ben then Ted then Natalie then Phil followed. Finally, Pauline realized they were all waiting on her. Still chewing her lip, still looking terrified, she slapped her hand down as well. They held that position for a moment and then broke apart.
“Let’s go!” Jake shouted. He turned and walked to the stage door. His band followed behind. It was showtime.
Chapter 10: Tsunami
September 27, 1996
The crowd erupted into deafening cheers as Jake walked out onto the stage, guitar in hand. The applause and screams washed over him, the loudest he had ever heard in his career as a performing musician, not because of the enthusiasm of the crowd—though they were quite enthusiastic—but because of the sheer number of people. Ninety-five thousand voices screaming in unison is up there with standing near a jet engine on the decibel meter. The sun had set more than an hour before and the stage lights were shining brightly as he walked to the microphone, waving his right hand to the crowd the whole time. He could not see them—not beyond the first few rows of the special VIP section and the stagefront seats situated to either side of it anyway—since he was in brightness and they were in darkness, but he certainly could feel them.
He stepped up to his microphone stand and grabbed his guitar cord, which had been hung at the junction where the talk box tube was taped. He plugged it in and pulled a guitar pick from the holder on the other side of the stand. There were nineteen picks stored there, all of them navy blue (Jake’s favorite color) and each one stenciled with the words: JAKE KINGSLEY, Tsunami Sound Festival, 1996 in white. Lenny’s guitar picks were stenciled as well, although with his name and his picks were red. Ted’s drumsticks were also stenciled.