Jake did not announce the name of the tune they were now playing, they just launched into it after a four count. It was played out with a moderately distorted three-chord riff that repeated over and over and was backed by the drums and bass, with a little piano secondary melody. Matt had heard the tune before—he had listened to all of Jake’s CDs a few times—and he recognized it was something off the first CD, but it was not one of the tunes they played on the radio with any frequency, so he had a hard time pinning down just what it was. The crowd also seemed to be not as familiar with the piece, as their cheers when it started to play were a little bit muted. It was only when Jake started to sing out the first verse that Matt finally remembered.
Oh yeah, he thought, nodding. It’s the tune about getting stoned but that he’s pretending is about flying his fucking airplane. It was a decent enough tune, with clever lyrics, but Matt thought it odd that he was playing it at the festival. His time was now running short, and he was performing one of his deep cuts instead of one of his popular pieces? What was up with that? Was he in the process of fucking things up after all? And where was the lead guitarist? Was Jake going to actually play his own lead on this one?
It turned out that Jake was playing his own lead. He drove through the first two verses, grinding out the riff and singing simultaneously with no problem whatsoever. It sounded like he had dialed up the intensity of the piece from the studio version, in fact, making the guitar parts louder and more authoritative. And then, when it came time for the solo, he launched right into it, his fingers moving up and down the fretboard, squeezing and releasing, sending rapid-fire notes out of the speakers and causing the audience to start cheering loudly as they were shown that Jake really could play lead and could play it well.
That’s why he put this song in here, Matt realized. So he could show off his lead guitar skills. And he was doing a pretty good job of doing it. Not as good as Matt could have done, of course, but still, it was a damn good shred.
But Matt hadn’t seen anything yet. Nor had the crowd. After winding up the guitar solo, Jake and the rhythm section transitioned back to a muted version of the primary melody, playing it over and over again while the black dude on the keyboards put out a lengthy and impressive piano solo that lasted more than two minutes. The audience began to clap along with the beat and were now fully into the number. Matt, in fact, had to resist the urge to clap along himself.
The piano solo wrapped up with a final flurry of notes. Jake stepped forward to the microphone once again and spoke into it: “Gordon Paladay on the keyboards! Gordon Paladay!”
Another cheer erupted forth, this one a bit more extensive and extended.
Gordon Paladay? Matt thought. Isn’t that the real name of that rapper that Jake hangs out with? The one he did those songs with? He was pretty sure it was. He peered closely at the black man in the hat and sunglasses and was finally able to resolve the facial features enough. It was Bigg G! Jake had a fucking rapper up there playing keyboards for him and nailing it! And he had not even mentioned who the man was! At least not until now. And who in this crowd was even going to know that Gordon Paladay and Bigg G were one and the same?
Jake sang out the final chorus of the tune and then transitioned into what seemed like it was to be an outro. He belted out the hook line for the tune over and over, changing up the wording and parts he sang as he did so.
“I am high ... I am high ... I am high up in the skyyyyyyyy. Yes, I’m high, yessss I’m high-yiiiiii, I am high up in the skyyyyyyyy!”
But it turned out, this was not an outro. After letting the last syllable fade out, the rhythm section and the keyboardist transitioned back into a repetitive playing of the main melody. Jake, meanwhile, had stepped up to his microphone and stepped on one of his effects pedals. He then reached forward and pulled on something, extending a tube out alongside his actual microphone, so it was sticking out about three inches beyond the head.
What the fuck? Matt wondered. That almost looks like ... no, it couldn’t be. Nobody does that anymore.
But somebody did. Jake did. He put the end of the tube in his mouth and began to pick out small isolated solo notes on his guitar. The sound of a talk box played out over the crowd and they cheered loudly and enthusiastically when they heard it.
Motherfucker, Matt thought in amazement. Can he really pull this shit off?
Jake’s solo fragments became louder, longer, more shaped by his mouth, and the sound was impressive. The crowd was clapping to the beat again, obviously enjoying Jake’s efforts. He picked up the pace and complexity of his playing, going into an extended and quite complex solo that he shaped with the talk box into something unique sounding, something with power. Soon, his fingers were blurring up and down the fretboard again while he picked rapidly with his right fingers and moved his mouth and lips. The cheering grew even louder, starting to compete with the speakers for dominance.
He wound down the tempo of the solo until he was once again just belting out brief successive notes while the band just kept putting down the repetitive rhythm in the background. He then began to make the guitar talk by playing out single G-chord strings and shaping the output as if he were talking. The words he was forming were quite plainly the hook line of the song once again: “Flying high, flying highhhh, flying high up in the sky.”
With each repetition of the phrase, the crowd cheered even more. He kept it up for a little more than a minute and then transitioned back to the short series notes once again. He went through this as the band gradually began increasing the tempo and the power of the rhythm behind him. He followed along with the tempo increase, making his own vocalizations louder until they reached an apparently agreed upon point (Matt had been unable to pick up if there had been a cue given, if there was, it had been very professionally subtle) and Jake removed his mouth from the tube, stomped down on the effects pedal (that Matt now knew was the talk box) and began to rip out a closing conventional solo while the drums and pass pounded behind him and Bigg G hammered along on the piano keys.
The ending solo was completely original for this performance and Jake played it masterfully, with careful use of the whammy bar and multiple trips up and down the fretboard while finger-tapping the strings with his right fingers. The performance did exactly what Jake had undoubtedly intended: it showed that not only could he sing and play rhythm, he could shred lead and solos with the best of them. True, he was not as good at it as Matt Tisdale, but he was not really even trying to be. He was up there with the best of the best and he had his own unique style and sound that could not be accused of Tisdale imitation.
When the solo and the song finally ended in a flurry of drum and piano and guitar, the roar from the crowd was deafening, clearly the loudest heard tonight. The crowd stood as one, offering a standing ovation for the performance they had just witnessed. Jake accepted their accolades humbly, simply standing at the front of the stage, nodding and waving.
“Thank you,” he said into the microphone. “I hope you enjoyed that.”
And, as the cheering continued, the rest of the band came back out onto the stage—all except Kingsley’s bitch. They took their positions and launched into what Matt had to assume was the closing number of the set since they only had three minutes left in their allotment.
Jake closed out the set as he had opened it: with one of his hard-driving tunes: Ocean View, which featured two dueling distorted electric guitars gradually increasing in intensity and power as the tune progressed. Matt actually smiled as he heard the tune and did not bother trying to keep himself from tapping to the beat and singing along. Ocean View was actually what he considered to be the best of Jake’s solo tunes and, though he would never tell anyone and would never do it if anyone else was nearby, he often turned up the volume when he heard the song on the radio.