I shook off the thought. No time for that now. I had five songs to give the Rocktoberfest crowd. I’d decided to start with an easy, rocky version of “Bite Me” and get them headbanging.Then slow down to “Wings of Ice” and “Don’t Look Back.” I hadn’t planned to do harder songs, but Lee asked for “Wipeout” and he’d get anything he asked from me. Except giving up this moment onstage, I guess.
The crowd rustled and rumbled as takeoff approached. I plucked my A-string, a nervous habit, the clear note settling me in my performing skin. Then the stage lights hit me, the gerbs Pete insisted on giving me flashed sparks, and the loudspeaker demanded, “It’s time. Put your hands together for Griffin Marsh!”
The audience screamed. Most of it for Pete and his band, of course, waiting behind me in the dark. But I basked in hearing some voices shouting my name.
I leaned into the mic. “Thank you, Rocktoberfest! Look at all you folks here tonight. Great crowd! You know, about ten years ago, I was in a small bar and I heard this band playing. Total unknowns. Pure raw talent. I went and found them after the set, and asked if they had any interest in opening for my next tour. And when they did, holy shit. I think by the end of the tour, they had more fans than I did. In half an hour or so, they’re going to play their songs for you. But tonight, I’m getting the perks of being the first person to recognize the genius that is Pete Lebraun and Chaser Lost!”
The roar of the crowd forced me to pause, but I grinned ear to ear, waiting them out. “What perk, you might ask?” I waved behind me. “Having the best band on the planet backing me up at the best show on the planet. Check it out!”
The spotlights came on, silhouetting the band in white halos, as Pete strummed a chord, and Quinn struck a bright note from his cymbal. The fans screamed.
I launched into the opening chords of “Bite Me” and the band swung in behind me. The heady joy of playing with the best musicians I knew hit me like a tornado, whirling me up into the heights. I forgot about going easy and charged into the first verse. Pete and I harmonized on the chorus like we’d planned, and I shredded the fuck out of the guitar solo. By the time Quinn crashed through the percussive ending, I could’ve leaped tall buildings.
Sets were short at these big shows, other than the headliners, and I didn’t want to waste a minute. We dove right into “Wings of Ice” and then “Don’t Look Back.” The more folky vibes were off-brand for Chaser Lost, but damn, these people could play to the mood. After I wound the last notes of “Don’t Look Back” into silence, I spoke into the mic again.
“This next song goes out to a special person named Yolanda.” I didn’t know who she was, but she got Lee to stop giving me radio silence. That made her special as hell. When we belted out the opening to “Wipeout” I hoped she was enjoying it. I hoped that Lee would know I did as he asked, just because he was the one asking.
“Wipeout” was appropriate here, if a bit harder rock than I’d planned. A song about getting back up when you were smashed flat. We’d done a crash rehearsal for it because no, it hadn’t been on the set list originally. But Pete and the gang had played it with me all those years ago, messing around in rehearsals and down days on tour. As I opened my mouth to belt the lyrics, Chaser Lost killed it behind me.
I gave the song everything I had, met Pete’s guitar with my own, threw myself into the lyrics. At the last moment, I skipped the triumphant scream at the end.That’s for you, Lee.Instead, I added a wild guitar riff and let the top note scream for me.
When we were done, the lights on Pete and the others dimmed and went dark. A roadie hauled out a tall stool for me and I perched a hip, tugged my beret down on my sweaty forehead. Another young woman took my electric guitar and gave me my old electro-acoustic. The applause faded to a murmur.
“One more song, Rocktoberfest,” I told the tens of thousands of folks arrayed across the festival grounds on the other side of the footlights. “This is a new song. No one’s heard it yet. You see, I’ve done a lot in my life, some of it awesome, like discovering Chaser Lost.” I paused for the screams but they died out fast, catching my mood.
“Some of it’s been the opposite of awesome. Half a year ago, I made a careless mistake, one second of irresponsibility, of complete thoughtlessness, and someone died. If you don’t know the story, you can look it up. I can never make amends, but I’m trying. Part of that is telling all of you, keep your eyes on the road when you drive. The life you save might be the mother of two little girls.”
I took a breath. “Sometimes bad things happen, and good comes out of it. I’ve been trying to make that true. Life throws curveballs, though.” My throat tightened. I could feel a painful ache there. Was any of it that damned polyp? Didn’t matter now. I had one thing left to do. “I wrote this song for someone who deserves all the joy in the world, and a hell of a lot more than I can bring him. I hope one day he may hear it.”
The intro to “Goodbye” was a minor key, shifting to major, then back to minor in the last verse. I picked the notes out fast and clean, getting my breath under control. Then I sang.
“I’ve always been one for long hellos
“Not so much for long goodbyes
“Our first kiss should last till the stars burn out
“Comet trails across the skies
“Walk with me awhile in the light of day
“Hold me close against the night
“But I’ll slip like a ghost from your loving arms
“And be gone by morning light.
“There’s a part of me
“That still wants to see
“If for once I stayed
“What my life would be
“There’s a place inside
“Wants to open wide
