-Today I don't have music csses, Mom. Mr. Jerry is takio perform at a bar in glorious New York, - replied Billy with a smile. He would sing solo; the band wouldn't gather for trivialities, but it was a duty he had to fulfill. Publig Billy was key; shaping the image of the tough, charismatic, troublesome, and down-to-earth boy was essential, and he enjoyed immersing himself in the local culture.
-But, sir, my image should be like this, - asked Billy, wearing a leather jacket to ward off the cold, untucked, fortable blue boots, nothing too metal or rock, along with a crisp white shirt and a Hippi symbol neckce. The ensemble was fantastic.
-We've already discussed this, kid. Your image should be that of the tough guy. Try to smile when necessary, but don't talk too much. Just look, like you usually look at me, with those mischievous eyes, - replied Jerry, ughing at Billy. He was followed by a giant guy, who seemed to be straight out of a fairy tale, more like a troll. The guy was two meters tall.
-Rex, I uand what you mean, - Billy ented somewhat harshly.
-We have a lot of things to aplish in the ing years. But you must always remember that this circuit is b, believe me, kid. It's better to get used to it. You have to pretend, without having fun. And when you have the opportunity, be o the cameras. Now you have to be o the people, - Jerry replied.
-I get it, old man. But where do supermodels fit into this? - replied Billy.
Jerry chuckled. -They sneak into your room when you're not paying attention, and after a while, they bother you to marry them. My advice? Find yourself a wyer, a businesswoman, or someone grounded. You won't be. And if you're faithful to her, she'll support you in any path you take. -
-Maybe when I'm forty, - replied Billy.
-Pay attention. Womeopic we'll hah caution. When you fall in love, make sure to tell me or Mikael so we set up a trust for when you go bankrupt, - Jerry said cheerfully as if recalling a joke. He was quite a funny man.
-Hahaha, I 't hawo women. Maybe with two, one could support me, and the other could steal my money, - said Billy.
Entering McSorley's Old Ale House, Billy walked in as most uy students approached. There was a sound system on the side setting up everything. - Mr. Jerry, there'll be a stage on the side for souup, but in a nutshell, it'll be a glorious acapel with a bag track, - the young man said.
-My boy do it as long as they allow him to sing well, - muttered Jerry, addressing the bar owo iate payment: roast beef sandwich, potato wedges with salt, lettuce, tomato, and olive sad, with a gss of Coca-Co. The only important singer who did this activity was once a very famous soloist; he ate for free every time he visited.
-The usual deal, - Agustus agreed.
It's the same deal. Make it the best sandwich, make it big because when my boy sings, he's different from others. He's a man with power like no other, but he es energy like crazy, - ented Jerry.
-We'll add double potatoes and an order of onis, - Agustus replied with a smile.
-Hahaha perfect, I'll talk to the boy, - said Jerry. Agustus cleared the usual table, ohey had used since '76. Things always turned out one way or another, but old friends stuck together. Iingly, in '76, Agustus was twelve years old and sat on his father's p. Something that always happened was time; the st great singer he brought was an old-school rocker, not so young anymore. Now, at 38, they were great acquaintances, as Jerry only brought in fantastic people, people who would be a milestone in the industry.
Jerry crossed to the table where Billy was sitting, nodding in reition. For the hree days, he would sing at the three best bars, or so Jerry cimed.
Fag an audiehat didn't seem like uy students but more like businessmen, all were suited to their respective pces. Some were chatting; a small group of young people was at the table. Billy observed them all, p on his song choice, ohat would fit but he didn't have one for such a crowd. He could only think of "Seven Nation Army" and "Somewhere," his favorite songs.
-Did you choose your songs? - asked Jerry.
-I have two, but I don't know the third one, old man, - replied Billy.
-It doesn't matter. When you're on stage, sing whichever suits you best. I like that one 'Like a Stone' and 'Love Yourself,' but not the rap ohe roe where you talk about a man who doesn't know himself, - replied Jerry. The good thing about the pce was that they respected the music; while he sang, no one would interrupt. It was a blessing for Billy, a novice.
"Lose Yourself," replied Billy, someleased about his uping performance.
Fag the table, and with a happihat seemed to almost emanate from within, Jerry hoped he wouldn't get burhere were two types of musis: those hippies, crazy, living rockers who only sought ohing – to sing, to produ their own time, without ahering them. Then there were others, musis dedicated to being part of the industry; they took their time, fulfilled all agreements, and followed a certain line of being. Some were professional, cheerful, taciturn... It was the musi's identity, very different from an actor's. Music requires a type of presence, an effort that is difficult to devote if it were any other profession.
-Well, go ahead and sing. We'll summarize your week, and you talk to me about everything b you, - Jerry ented, beside him was the resembo the crow's feet that g to him. For Jerry, it was his old age, something that couldn't be grabbed from one pce. That elusive thing could only be glimpsed in three parts. The first part was that both were supp each other. How idyllic death is, and how powerful is the feeling that nothing is right, that everything ends. Jerry's end, now he only cared about new winds carrying airs. How sad the moment whehing ends.
-Sir, today people will see a powerful dawn at the top of a great mountain, - replied Billy, with some sadness in his heart. These were notes he hoped to see; his imagination of small sarios led him to uand what he liked.
He climbed onto the stage and gave a smile, one of those he always made to hide his sadness. He had been practig for years, long before... He looked at the people again; everyone was focused on what would happen. The eagerness; perhaps some were only here to drown out their Friday's work; some were only esg from their reality.
-I wish I could py the acoustic guitar much better, - thought Billy.
-Good evening, everyone. I hope that the moment take you all out of this city, that you find something of what I have to show, - Billy replied to the audience. He could see Jerry ughing as he raised a beer to him.
Nobody paid attention to Billy's words, but in his distent, he oended his biggest smile. With total charm for others to their souls, he had been doing it for quite some time.
Like a purring, different way of ag, different things to act, many of them... be sung differently. It's the love of singing. Singing was like telling a story, sometimes they were just images, sometimes they were small moments, other times long moments.
????
I'm gonna fight 'em offA seven-nation army couldn't hold me backThey're gonna rip it offTakin' their time right behind my bad I'm talkin' to myself at nightBecause I 't fetBad forth through my mindBehind a cigarette
And the message in' from my eyesSays, "Leave it alone"
????
...
A man walking on a mountain, fearing the costs, as he climbed with all he had in his heart. It was steep, and long, as he wiped away sweat, the wind occupied nothing more than a dark silence.
????
Don't wanna hear about itEvery single one's got a story to tellEveryone knows about itFrom the Queen of Engnd to the Hounds of HellAnd if I catch it in' back my wayI'm gonna serve it to youAnd that ain't what you want to hearBut that's what I'll do
And the feelin' in' from my bonesSays, "Find a home"
????
...
The wind was an anized outlet that pushed the climber's body, with his heart still rag, he saw a small metal hook, the vertigo couldn't be seen, nothing more than a point of strength. With a leap, the climber tinued climbing... while, he saw his climb, almost falling, he could radiate fear, hopelessness, the feelings that Billy was starting to see branched into loneliness, the loneliness of the mountain. It was in a sense in a war, as he climbed, he cursed.
????
I'm goin' to WichitaFar from this opera forevermoreI'm gonna work the strawMake the sweat drip out of every poreAnd I'm bleedin', and I'm bleedin', and I'm bleedin'Right before the LordAll the words are gonna bleed from meAnd I will think no more
And the stains in' from my bloodTell me, "Go bae"
????
...
The sun's glow was at its peak; he saw the peak, what a beauty. A sun over a mountain.
Billy observed the room; it remained silent. His singing reached them; he could see the solemure, trary to a cert, here it was closer. Some looked at him with deep eyes; those deep eyes were watg him, how distant were people's emotions?
-That one was 'Seven Nation Army,' now 'Somewhere Only We Know,' - ented Billy, as he adjusted his ideas; that mountain was still in the air.
He closed his eyes with some majesty; his jacket was on the floor and his white shirt was soaked i.
-Your boy is quite good, - ented Agustus, mouth agape at the talent Jerry brought. Anticipating a question, only one answer awaited him.
-I'll bring him month, but he'll e with his mother, two meals, - Jerry said.
-Done, - replied Agustus. Resolutely.
***
-Wonderful, it's the pce you were just moments ago, - Jerry replied beside him. Billy ate with some pleasure, totally sweaty, not paying attention to Jerry, but enjoying his meal wholeheartedly. The food was exquisite; he o everything Jerry said, with fabulous pleasure. Iure, people would call it madness. However, the decy of happiness in his heart, a pte of food. You te of food for a song, while my song give me many things, it's a colorful pcebo that burns in his dreams.
-You're not listening to me, what a bother, - Jerry said, shaking his head, while some figures eagerly awaited to ask for autographs or photos, but upon seeing the boy eat the food with such alien pleasure, different from what was expected.
-When you finish, you'll take photos and sign autographs for those who wish. The boy will sign in ten minutes for all of you, don't worry, it'll only take a few moments, - Jerry eo Billy, with a loud voice, with full dedication. - The kid will sign in ten minutes for all of you, don't worry, it'll only take a few moments. -
The people listening at the tables only waited for a slight opportunity.
-What delicious food, old man, we'll make this a tradition, - Billy asked.
-In the bar, no one will do anything. See, that's tradition, - Jerry ented, looking at the delicate paintings hanging on the walls, like Christmas tree ors. The whole pce was decorated with many decorations, and the Irish aspect was so delicate and happy that most likely, the Friday he attended, in months, the bar would have a different vibe.
On the side, Billy approached Jerry with a whisper.
-The autographs, what should I do? - Billy asked.
-I'll send them to you, you stay here, and just behave as we'll remember, resolved, as if it were natural, - Jerry replied.
Billy had brought a notebook; he had been practig his autographed signature for half a year.
...