The two of them married shortly after securing jobs with the Providence School District — Jim as a high school History teacher, Marcie as a junior high English teacher. As the years went on, they became friends with Stephanie, who taught Physical Education at Jim's school. The friendship was just casual at first until they discovered that Stephanie was a whiz with an electric guitar.
"My singing and composition have always been my strong points musically," Jim said, "but I was always pretty good with my guitar as well. But when I heard Steph play for the first time..."
"We had to get her drunk and double dare her before she would play for us," Marcie said with a giggle.
"Shut up, whore," Steph said, not unkindly.
"Dyke," Marcie shot right back, causing laughter to erupt from the entire band, Steph included.
"Anyway," Jim went on, "when I found out how good Steph could play, and when I found out that she could sing as well... that's when the idea of getting a band together started to hit me. By this time, my Courage contract had expired and I was free to perform again, so we asked around a little and eventually found Jeremy and Rick. We started out just doing covers of existing songs at weddings and special events and the annual PTA carnival — we even did a few Intemperance tunes, Living By The Law, Descent Into Nothing, and Point Of Futility."
"The school board sure as shit didn't like it when we sang anything by Intemperance at a school function," Stephanie put in.
"No," Jake said, "I don't imagine they did."
"Those tight-assed prudes didn't even know what the songs were about," Jim said. "They just told us that 'satanic death metal' was not the sort of family friendly music they were looking for."
"They wanted us to do fucking John Denver and Barry Manilow shit," Jeremy said with a shake of his head. "They wouldn't even let us do any Elton John because he's gay and they were afraid people would be offended."
"Providence is starting to sound a lot like Cincinnati," Jake observed.
"It's worse," Marcie said. "Much worse. Providence is about the most tight-assed, conservative, bible-thumping city outside of the Deep South. Worse than Salt Lake City even."
"That's saying a lot," said Jake. Salt Lake City, after all, was the only municipality in the nation that had actually succeeded in getting one of Intemperance's concert permits cancelled on grounds of violating local community standards of decency. That had been during the It's In The Book tour and, of course, it had only taken one appeal by National Records' lawyers to get the ruling reversed.
"Yeah," Jim agreed. "There are asses so tight in Providence that it's a wonder the shit can flow as efficiently as it does."
Jake laughed. He was finding that he liked this band on a personal level as well as a musical level.
Chapter 14b
"So anyway," Jim went on. "We did the cover tune thing for about six months or so and then I started introducing some of the tunes I'd written over the years. When we saw how good we were at putting them together into a coherent form..."
"It's Jim who does that," Steph said. "He's the one that is able to take all of our lyrics and basic melodies and turn them into actual music."
Jim shrugged this off modestly. "I have a gift for that sort of thing," he said, "but everyone helps out. So anyway, once we started putting some of my tunes together, we decided to try some of Marcie's as well. And finally, one night after we'd perfected almost an entire set, we got Steph drunk and she actually put down a few tunes she'd come up with. Until that point, none of us even knew she was a songwriter."
"I didn't think I was very good," Stephanie said softly. "I still don't, although I'm forced to admit that the crowds seem to like my stuff... especially the girls."
"Oh yeah, especially the girls," Rick said with a knowing grin.
"Shut up, dickwad," Stephanie told him with a grin.
"We worked up a set of about fifteen original songs," Jim went on, "and then we started trying to get gigs at some of the local clubs. They weren't very interested in us at first. Most of them rejected us without even an audition. They said they didn't like the way we looked."
Jake simply nodded. It was a theme that was pervading the music industry ever since the rise of MTV and music videos.
"Eventually, however," Jim said. "This tiny little club out in the suburbs gave us a shot. We played there as an opener for three consecutive weekends and that was all it took. People loved us."
"You do have a unique sound," Jake said.
"By the end of that first summer, we were headlining at clubs all over Rhode Island. The next summer we were playing all over New England. It's to the point now that we pack the house everywhere we play."
"How much are you pulling in?" Jake asked.
"Seven-fifty a show," Jim said with a shrug. "It's not a fortune — certainly not enough to quit our teaching jobs for — but it's not bad either."
"We don't do it for the money anyway," Marcie said. "We do it because we love to play music for people. I'll never forget how scared I was the first time we went up on stage. I was trembling and shaking, terrified that I was going to screw up and that everyone would laugh at me."
"I can relate," Jake said. "My first time was exactly the same."
They all looked at him in disbelief for a moment, convinced he was just jerking them off.
"I'm not kidding," Jake said. "I was twenty years old when I walked onto that first stage at D Street West in Heritage, California, and I was terrified. So was Matt and Nerdly. But as soon as we started to play..."
"Yeah," said Marcie with a nostalgic smile. "That's when everything feels the best, isn't it?"
"Damn right," Jake said.
"Does it go away?" asked Stephanie. "The thrill of playing in front of an audience? You know, like when it becomes your actual job and you have to do it night after night?"
"There are a lot of things about going out on tour that tend to burn you out after awhile," Jake said. "Being in hotel rooms all the time, long drives on the bus, all the radio station interviews and autograph sessions, the lack of sleep, the not knowing where you are or what day of the week it is. But, for me, the one thing that has never lost its allure is going out on that stage and hearing people cheering for me. It doesn't matter how many shows in a row we've done, I still love the feeling of playing my guitar and singing for a crowd, the way it feels when the show is over and you know you've done a good job and everyone had a good time. That's magic for me and I think it always will be."
The five band members nodded solemnly at these words of wisdom. "That's good to know," Jim said.
"Yeah," agreed Marcie. "One of my greatest fears is that one day I'll wake up and not want to do this anymore."
"I've been through quite a lot since my first time," Jake said. "I've been arrested, beaten by cops and truck drivers, been accused of every kind of blasphemy there is, and even a few that there isn't, had demented fans threaten to kill my girlfriend, and I still haven't woke up with that feeling yet. Not even close."
"What about the story about you snorting coke out of that girl's ass crack?" asked Marcie. "Any truth to that?"
Jake chuckled and took another drink of his beer. "I'm still pleading the Fifth on that one," he said.
"Understandable," Stephanie said. "Although I'm sure it's a really cool story."
"You have no idea," Jake said. "So tell me something, have you guys ever thought about trying to get a recording contract? Based on what I've heard, your music is definitely marketable."
A look passed among the five members of the band — a cynical look that broke through the geek squad impression.