"You ready?" Jake asked Matt.
"Yeah," he said, putting the harmonica to his lips. "I'm fucking ready. Let's get this shit over with."
Jake nodded and began to strum out the rhythm to I Am Time, his fingers making the rapid chord changes, his right hand strumming the strings. The melody was infectious and within seconds all who had never heard it were tapping their feet and shrugging their shoulders to the rhythm. The opening of the song was composed to start with only the rhythm guitar. After the first verse and the first chorus, the drums, bass, piano, and, as Jake now hoped, Matt's harmonic would kick in.
"I'm the force that can't be stopped, I'm the power that will not wait
"I pull your life along, I am the master of your fate
"From the moment you are born I'm the one you can't defeat
"You will curse my very name yet I'll still march at my own beat
"I am time, I am your enemy
"I'll undermine your sense of dignity
"I'll rob you of your youth and someday I'll rob you of your life
"There's nothing you can do but come to terms with my strife
"I am time... I am time, yeah!"
Jake began to play harder, a little faster, changing the tempo to the main rhythm of the song. Matt began to play his harmonica, mimicking the guitar solo he'd played during the jam sessions. His playing was listless at best, with no emotion whatsoever coming forth. Jake stopped playing before he even started the longer, more intense second verse.
"What?" Matt asked. "Why'd you stop?"
"That sounds like shit," Jake said.
"I already told you it would sound like shit," Matt said. "Can I get back to the fuckin' hot tub now?"
"No," Jake said, "I mean you sound like shit. You were playing that thing like it was a pussy full of pus. Play it like it's a clean, freshly shaven pussy. Play it like you were out there on the balcony when your two sluts were licking each other out."
"Dude," Matt said, "I was playing in 'I'm about to get laid by two lesbo bitches' mode out there. That's a happy song. This is a dark tune about getting old and having everything slip away from you. It's a bitchin' tune, dude, but it ain't a happy tune."
"Then play it sad and mournful," Jake said. "Put the goddamn emotion of the song into that harmonica."
Matt took a deep breath. He looked around to see that everyone was staring at him expectantly. "Okay," he said, "I'll try again. But first, I need a couple of hits. Where's that fuckin' bong at?"
Charles immediately located the bong and the now diminished bag of marijuana. He brought it over to his boss and loaded up a large hit for him. "Your cannabis, sir," he said, presenting it to him.
"Thanks, Chuckie," Matt said. He put the mouth of the bong to his own mouth and hit the button. A cloud of steam-like gas formed in the chamber and Matt sucked it deeply into his lungs. He held it for almost thirty seconds and then blew it out. "Hit me again," he said.
Charles hit him again, putting an even larger hit in this time. Matt sucked it down. After exhaling he took a few breaths and then picked up the harmonica again. "Okay," he said. "I think I got this thing in perspective now, Jake. Let's do it again."
Jake nodded. He strummed a few open chords and then grabbed the neck and began to play, going through the opening sequence again. He belted out the first verse and then the first chorus, stretching out the final word, pausing for the briefest second, and then launching into the main rhythm. Matt began to play the harmonica again, winding up into a braying accompaniment that was worlds different from his first effort. This time it was obvious that he was feeling the music. He blew into the organ with force and emotion, his fingers moving over the holes and extracting a sweetly mournful sound that mixed almost perfectly with the rhythm.
"Yeah," Nerdly said, excited, his fingers itching to pound on some piano keys and throw his own efforts in but Matt, unfortunately, did not own a piano.
"Play it, Mattie!" Coop yelled, drumming on his knees with his hands.
"You got it!" Darren said, forgetting for the first time tonight about the nice hit of black tar heroin he was going to smoke when he got home.
Jake sang and strummed his way through the second verse, which was much longer, much more in depth about the insidious nature of time. Matt continued to play along, hitting high notes and low notes, drawing out some and sharpening others, always keeping perfectly in rhythm. Pauline and the other women were now softly clapping their hands to the beat of the song, all of them smiling in awe as they witnessed the birth of a song. Even Charles — who hated rock music like the Arabs hated the Jews — was bobbing his head as he heard the composition.
Jake went through the second chorus, which was twelve lines instead of the five that had been present in the first. He then launched into an extended bridge in which the rhythm picked up in intensity and speed, the words pouring out of his mouth in machine-gun style. Matt kept right up with it, bending his neck and raising his head to the ceiling on several occasions. After the bridge was a solo — originally intended for a guitar, of course. Matt belted it out on the harmonica, increasing his volume and tempo, his fingers flying, his mouth inhaling and exhaling in just the right manner.
"Wow," Rachel said, staring in awe at the two musicians. She had never really been an Intemperance fan at all, preferring country music and the standard eighties staples that she saw on MTV. Even after meeting Jake and becoming friends with him, the only Intemperance songs she had heard were those that appeared on MTV. She came to the realization that Jake really was a talented musician and not just a momentary sensation.
The third verse of the song was played even faster, almost suicidal in tempo. Jake's fingers were a blur on the neck, his pick hitting the strings with almost enough force to cause damage. His voice belted it out, carrying across the room. And Matt continued to hold up his end on the harmonica, throwing down a melodious accompaniment that seemed to bear no relationship whatsoever to the blues, that was pure, unadulterated rock and roll.
After the final verse ended they were in no man's land. They had never composed beyond this point since they'd never been able to dial in the main part of the tune to their satisfaction. They did not stop now, however. Jake continued to strum, keeping up with the pace that had been set and Matt went into a complex and amazing harmonica solo that lasted more than two minutes. Jake did some voice work during the solo, mostly just repeating the title of the song, mixing it up with some variations.
"I am time... yeah. I am time. Time. I am tiiiiiiiiiiimme, yeah, yeah, yeah, time."
They finally wound up in an ending that wasn't quite coordinated but that did manage to bring closure to the song. Jake slowly reduced the tempo down to an almost ballad-like pace and Matt let the harmonica wind down into a long, drawn out, final note.
"Fuck yeah!" said Coop, standing up and clapping both Matt and Jake on the back. "That was fuckin' awesome!"
"Damn right," said Darren.
"I must concur," said Nerdly. "When we mix the piano in and add drums and a bass beat, it will be most aesthetic to the cultured ear."
Pauline, Charles, Rachel, and even Matt's two women — both of whom were covered in towels and sitting on the couch — all agreed with this consensus.
"You were right, Jake," Matt said, signaling to Charles for a beer. "It mixed well and it wasn't blues. I liked it. I liked it a lot."
"You really are a master with that thing, Matt," Jake said. "I stand in awe."
"Don't you always stand in awe?" Matt asked.
"As much as you do of me," Jake said with a smile. "So anyway, the real question is, should we keep working on it? It's not exactly classic Intemperance."