“It is,” Sharon said. “And I’m not inclined to think that he’s twice as good as Laura.”
“Laura gets royalties from the album though,” Jake said. “Maybe he’d be willing to go fifty for a piece of the royalties?”
“Perhaps,” Nerdly said. “This all sounds like something we should be talking to Pauline about.”
“That it does,” Jake agreed. “Phil, is Paulie still here?”
“Last time I went out to get ice she was in her office,” he said. “That was about forty minutes ago.”
“Go drag her in here, will you?” Jake asked. “Don’t tell her what it’s about. Just say we need to talk to her about something.”
“Right,” Phil said, standing up.
Dexter Price was a light skinned black man, short, stocky, his curly hair buzzed short. Though he was a self-proclaimed homosexual and quite proud of it, he did not display any of the mannerisms or speech typically associated with his sexuality. His voice was deep and without even the barest hint of a lisp. He dressed fashionably but without flamboyance of any kind. He sat firmly in the chair provided to him, with no crossing of the legs, no bending of the wrists. He did, however, exude a definite air of confidence in his abilities—almost an arrogance.
“What do you think of progressive rock music?” Jake asked him. He was sitting on the drum platform, sipping from a glass of iced tea that Phil had made. Celia and the Nerdlys were sitting next to him. Pauline sat in one of the chairs. The rest of the band members were at their stations, except for Phil, who was sitting at the soundboard in Sharon’s usual spot.
“I have nothing against it,” Dexter said with a shrug. “It’s a new evolution in the basic rock and roll formula, nothing particularly groundbreaking.”
“Do you like rock and roll music?” asked Celia.
Another shrug. “I like any genre that is done with honesty and good musicianship. Rap, pop music, rock music, even country. On the other hand, I dislike any music of any genre that is dishonest or made for the purpose of profit only.”
“Could you give me an example of a particular band or artist you do not like?”
“Jesus, where do I start?” he said with a chuckle. “The first one that comes to mind is the Beastie Boys. I despise them. They are nothing but a comedy act that appeals to the tone deaf.”
“They’ve sold over twenty million records,” Pauline pointed out.
He gave her a sharp look. “If you think that just because a band sells twenty million albums they are worthy of musical respect, then perhaps we are wasting each other’s time here.”
“No, not at all,” Jake said. “You are entirely correct about the Beastie Boys. They suck ass. They more than suck ass, really. There are certain groups or artists that, if someone even likes them, I automatically lose all respect for that person musically. The Beastie Boys are extremely high on that list.”
Dexter nodded as he heard this, a smile on his face. “You’re feeling me, Jake,” he said.
“I am,” Jake said. “Now, for the big question. What do you think about my work? About Celia’s? Honesty, please.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Dexter said. He looked at Jake. “I like the stuff you did with Intemperance a lot. It’s a heavy sound, not what I’m normally into, you understand, but it has feeling, it has soul. Your lyrics are some of the best I’ve ever heard and Matt Tisdale’s guitar playing ... a work of art, truly it is.”
“That’s good to hear,” Jake said.
Dexter then looked at Celia. “As for La Diferencia ... well ... I can’t say that I cared much for the work you did in those days. Sorry. It was formulistic pop music designed to appeal to the masses by using hook lines and catchy choruses. The only thing redeeming about it was your voice, which is simply beautiful, and the acoustic guitar playing on a few of the cuts.”
Celia nodded. “I can’t say I disagree with you on that,” she told him. “We started out in a mold that was cast for us by Aristocrat Records. They never changed the mold even though I begged and pleaded with them to give me more artistic freedom. I do appreciate that you appreciate my voice and my guitar work, however.”
“I call things as I see them,” Dexter said.
“Yes, you do,” Celia agreed. “Now, since you would be primarily working on my tunes if you accept this position, I have to know. What do you think of my solo work? What is your opinion of the songs you’ve heard from The Struggle?”
Dexter smiled at her. “I own a copy of the CD,” he told her.
“You do?” she asked, surprised and pleased.
“I do,” he said. “I bought it shortly after hearing your second release—Playing Those Games—on the radio. I really enjoyed the song The Struggle itself—a very good use of sax for melody in that piece, by the way—and when I heard Playing Those Games, I knew I had to hear what the rest of your stuff was about. I am quite pleased with my decision to purchase that disc. I listen to it frequently and I can truly say I got my twelve dollars and eighty-nine cents worth out of it.”
Celia was now beaming at him. “That’s good to hear coming from you,” she said.
He shrugged a little and then turned back to Jake. “I own a copy of Can’t Keep Me Down as well,” he told him. “I believe it shows a significant expansion of your musical boundaries since the Intemperance days. The acoustic guitar work is some of the best I’ve ever heard, and your lyrics ... classic Jake Kingsley musings about life and relationships.”
“So ... you like it then?” Jake asked.
“I like it,” he confirmed.
“Then you are considering our offer?” Jake asked him.
“Obviously I’m considering it or I wouldn’t have come here, sax in hand, would I?”
“Good point,” Jake allowed.
“Has it occurred to you,” Dexter enquired, “that maybe you won’t like my playing? What do you know about me? How much of my work have you heard?”
“I’ve heard enough,” Jake said. “Laura and I had a little contest with each other back while we were recording the first albums. She’s primarily into jazz, you see, and did not care for anything outside that genre. I had never really gotten into jazz before meeting her. And so, we would each present the other with an example of the genre we were trying to introduce from our respective music collections. One of the albums she gave to me was Bobby Z’s Come Again CD, which featured Dexter Price on the sax. She let me know that it was the sax playing that truly made the album one of her favorites. And she was right. I was impressed with your playing. I also have listened quite extensively to Downwind, the album Bobby Z just released—the one that Laura is finishing up the tour for. Again, the sax is what makes the music happen.”
Dexter nodded appreciatively. “Fair enough,” he said. “And what about you, Celia? You say that most of my work will be with you on your cuts. Do you enjoy my playing as well?”
“I do,” she said. “I’ll admit that I hadn’t listened to much of your work until your name came up as a possible player here in our little band, but once it did, I purchased all CDs that feature your work and I have been listening to them every night. I am enthralled.”
“What’s your favorite?” he asked her.
She thought for a moment and then said, “That’s not an easy question to answer, but I’ll give it a try. As far as melodies go, I think your work on the song Inside Out on Bobby’s most recent album is the most moving as far as eliciting an emotional response and fitting the theme of the lyrics. As for solos, I have to say the outro to Going My Way on the album you did with Val Ignatius is probably the best, although I have yet to really hear a solo or a melody from you that is not pleasant to the ear.”