An overly-eager artist being welcomed into the industry is taken on a bumpy ride as she learns life does not have as many sunny days as she thought. Within the process, she comes to learn that her tour guide is a lot more important to her than she e...
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July 22, 1986 Edina, Minnesota
"We are young, we're not old, and we are funky!"
Rehearsals are always tight, in the sense of coolness and how hard we work. I said it once and I'll say it again; I've got the baddest band in the universe. The Revolution is a well-oiled, long lasting, smooth running machine. Practice makes perfect and we breathe rehearsal. The show doesn't stop. There is always more to learn because the possibilities are endless. An hour and a half into today's session, we're unstoppable with a groove this strong riding.
"And we are funkayyyyy!"
My laughter can't be contained when it comes to my friend's antics. "No, Brooks! No!" Laughing, I continue being the ringleader of this bad ass circus.
Lyric stands next to me, playfully imitating me with her dancing around the stage. We lock eyes and laugh harder the moment she's able to predict the face I'm making just in time to match me, turning our stares into mirrors. Her being here has done exactly what I hoped. Everything is better when she's nearby. Everything is more fun when my partner in crime is in sight.
We're usually on the same page. As much information received as I give, I love the naturalness of educational our transactions. It's like she can read my mind. At least half of my interactions with others are me trying to explain what I hear in my brain, whether it's a thought, melody, harmony, anything. How much more fun you can have when you skip over that communication barrier is a new exciting adventure waiting to be explored every second you're standing side by side. I don't get tired of it. I love to explore and I think she does too. That's why wherever I go, she'll probably show up and if she's there, I'm bound to appear.
We're drawn to each other.
Hell, she wasn't even supposed to be here today. She had her own rehearsals with her own band earlier. We weren't due to check in until tomorrow but plans of us heading to my home studio tonight brought her over early to hang out in our rehearsal. Bodies filed in, her bringing half of her band with her, and it turned into as much of a jam session as it is a party. This is how we've lived since last summer, an entire year now. We took France by storm— especially Me, her, and Rome— then brought it home to Minnesota. Something about knowing they can't fuck with us makes it that much more of a good time. I think it gets her off too.
"Break it down to the bass and drums! Wendy!" Head bobbing, my heel pounds into the ground. "Keep grooving." Curious to know what the person with the second best taste feels about the jamming sound system, I glance over at Lyric. "Hear that shit?"
Laughing, she's careful not to drop her donut as she grins at the powers of the new system and the groove coming from it. She likes it.
I look at the band, directly specifics toward Bobby. "Alright, now I'ma say IceeeCreammm and you go into the dadadada. You start riding... Full count for the snare." Expecting them to keep up, I don't hesitate to give the cue. "Ice Cream!" When my spirit tells me to make the call, I shout, "Break it down!" Glancing over my shoulder, I catch a glimpse of Lyric's drummer, Oscar, entering. I've been eyeing him for a minute. I know he can get up here and play better than Bobby. "Now, you just do it for four measures, right?"
