The Show

As the curtain slowly rises, the audience is revealed to me. The amp is on, a constant hum emitting from its speakers. My bass is hanging loosely around my body, gently vibrating, waiting to be played. I do one last adjustment to the effects and volume before stepping forward. I slowly looked back and forth across the auditorium. Over a thousand eyes stared back at me, silently waiting. A few are talking to each other, a few are texting. But most are watching, like vultures before their prey. I look down and examine myself. My silk, black dress shirt clings to my skin, and my blue jeans feel scratchy against my legs. The heat from the over head lights bears down on me like some massive weight. I step forward once more, and activate my effect pedal; distortion. The amp responds with a low buzz, and I pluck the first note. As the deep sound of the bass flows through the crowd, a gasp can be heard, and all eyes focus on me. I widen my stance and begin slowly playing the notes that I have practice for years. I gently bounce my head, my hair copying my movements, as I begin to play faster. As more notes are added, and faster rhythms appear, I begin to use more fingers. The distorted notes fire through the crowd, much like waves through water. My music flows through the air, wrapping around them, amazing them with the complexity and wondrous beats. The fastest part has arrived, and I switch to three fingers as I hammer out note after note. Chords, harmonics, triplets, eighths, sixteenths, thirty-twos, all the way to hundred twenty eight notes fly through their ears. I step further again, and begin swinging my head up and down, in the classic head banging motion. I feel the music become part of, my quick flowing fingers flowing up and down the strings. I walk back and forth on the stage leaning forward, leaning back. Looking at the crowd, I see all of them, their eyes wide with wonder, their mouths agape with amazement. Holding one hand up, I prepare for the run down as the last note echoes out. Quickly, furiously, and hard, I fly down each of the strings. Hitting every note physically possible, I use all four fingers to show my enthusiasm. I get to the end of the final string, playing hundreds of notes in a matter of seconds. I slam my fingers down all four strings as I finish the song and raise my hands in the “Devil Horns” manner. The entire crowd erupted into shouting, whistling, clapping, and yelling. I walked off the stage with a smile, having introduced all those kids to the greatest heavy metal bass solo of all time. Anesthesia.