it's was a rainy and quite gloomy day in London, which after a while you learn to love or at least live with. I didn't mind London's weather, it usually kept me indoors giving me more time to write and just be alone with my head.
I was heading over to meet my band mates for rehearsal at this pub where a mate of ours booked us a gig, there was a "music guy who seems like a big fucking deal"-Winston's words not mine- who was going to be there and if we impress him we get a chance to fly to NY and maybe even get signed, we've been writings songs and playing every gig we could get some can be shitty and some can be great but we enjoyed it nevertheless, but that to a young band like ours was quite a deal but still it wasn't on top of our list to get signed, we were doing it for the love of making music.
"Marcus!" I turn around and see my friend Ben jogging towards me.
"you're late too? that's a first" I snickered.
"we're not that late are we?" he said as he checked the time on his watch.
"no Benji we're not that late" I patted him on the back and we headed to our destination.
That's Ben for you, the punctual organized Ben and seeing him worried about being 10 minutes late was funny to watch when really he was probably worried about Winston being alone with the drumkit even though Ted was there with him we all knew he had a soft spot for Winnie, he was like his little brother.
We arrived outside the pub and you can already hear the banjo, fiddle and the upright bass I've been hearing for so long that my ear could pick it up anytime and I couldn't wait to step in there and join them, I always knew I wanted to be a musician it wasn't a question to me whether I wanted to be or whether there's something else I could be doing, I just knew there's nothing I would rather be doing than make music and I'm truly blessed to be able to do it with three of my best friends.
_
'you and I now
though it cold inside
feel the tide turning'
and with a strum the last song to play ended "thank you all for coming we're mumford and sons" all sweaty I thank the crowd and we get down the stage to get a drink.
"that was fun" Ted said pulling an extra chair to the wooden sqaure table.
"did anyone see Mr. Record Man?" Wisnton added making a nervous face.
"Mr. Record Man? I like it, has quite a ring to it" a man says in an American accent from behind me I turn around and there was a man in a fancy suit with a little too much hairgel and a little too much aftershave cologne.
He sat and explained to us how he was wiling to fly us to New York and get us a manager and book us a couple of shows which didn't sound so bad till he mentioned getting us song writers and 'cleaning us up' and changing our music style into something 'bit more modern and maybe a bit more rock and roll' and right then I wasn't feeling it and I could tell neither did Winston judging by the look of horror on his face knowing that his dreadlocks would be the first to go if this guy had it his way.
"sounds good?" Mr. Record Man asked us.
"I guess we'll have to think about it" i scratched the back of my neck trying not to make eye contact.
"think about it?" the man scoffed making me want to take a swing at his nose.
"we don't really plan on changing our..well anything, we love the music we make and it's good music" Ben explained.
"people don't want to listen to accordions and fucking triangles and whatever that is" he said pointing at the banjo and Win returned a look of hurt as if he insulted his child "I'm trying to help you, you guys want to play in shitty bars forever?" he asked us.
