To Be A Rock Star

Being in Fake Band is not without its frustrations: we argue over the silliest things; there are some rather healthy egos in the group; often times not everyone can make it to rehearsal. To that end, I have to admit that I wasn't really looking forward to our show at the Red Devil Lounge last night. I had been in a somewhat foul mood all day and just didn't want to deal with performing. Not to mention that we had a rather abbreviated sound check because the club was running behind. Plus, there was some odd conversation about where the microphones should be placed to maximize time in "the spotlight." Whatever.

But then, we stepped onstage.

I can see why bands stay together even if the members all hate each other (for the record, we in Fake Band do not hate each other... yet, anyway). Performing is a really heady drug. I only sing lead on four of the thirteen songs we have learned, and we did an abbreviated set last night, so I only sang lead on three. But those three numbers, combined with my Sassy tambourine styling throughout the show transformed me into a rock star.

And I absolutely loved it.

Our show was not perfect. Because we have a hard time gathering everyone for rehearsal, some of our songs are a little ragged. Case in point: our lead guitarist seemed to forget his part on our cover of "Band of Gold." In fact, he also seemed to forget when and how the song ends. It was a little awkward, but one man's memory loss was another girl's extension of her rock star belting by repeating a verse to save the number. And I was okay with that. We also played that song way too fast, so it was like Freda Payne meets the Ramones, but hopefully, we'll work that out.

What was tremendous was seeing a bunch of friendly faces in the audience, as Fabulous Patti, Carolyn, Wendy, Tom, Eric, Anne, Helen, Doug, Liz, Erin and Neal all came to the show. There really is no point to being a fake rock star unless your family and friends show up to cheer you on. Plus, I got what I consider to be the highest compliment from some random guy after we were done. He not only told me that I had been good, but he added, "Thank you." Why is that the highest compliment, you ask? Because music is so important to me that when I go see shows, I will thank the musicians afterward when I sincerely respect their talent and/or performance. Now, for all I know, Random Guy was just trying to hit on me, but his words landed on me like the highest of compliments.

I think it's fair to say that I had been suffering from serious Fake Band burnout, but I'm over that for now and can't wait for our show in L.A. next Friday. Everyone should become a fake rock star; it's super fun.