Page 33 of Filthy Rock Stars

Case shoots Star a playful smirk. “See? I purr and sing and moan, too. They’d play the drums.”

“Okay, let’s give the new guy a break from the interrogation,” Mare says, her voice light and friendly. “He’s going to think we’re not serious rock musicians.”

The band all laughs, and I fidget, not sure I get the joke.

“It’s just this Forbidden Destiny bullshit,” Star says. “They keep trash-talking us and saying we don’t play real rock music.”

“But the thing is,” Case says, “we don’t really care whether people call us a rock band or not. We’re just making the music we want to make, which happens to mainly be rock.”

“Sorry if that’s a disappointment to hear,” Mare adds quickly. “We all love rock. And I’m a diehard grunge fan. We just don’t want to get into turf wars about it.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” I say quickly. “I wanted to make sure I clarified, anyway. I’m not super up to date on rock music. I’ve been listening to albums and educating myself the past couple weeks, but honestly, it’s not what I always listen to.”

“What do you listen to?” Star asks.

“Minimal electronic music. Classical piano.” I shrug. “I’ve got a soft spot for movie scores. But honestly, I like a little bit of everything!”

Mare smiles. “And that, sweet Nico, is the exact reason we invited you to play with us.”

I blink. “It is?”

“I listen to a little bit of everything, too,” Mare says, “but I don’t know anything about classical piano.”

Case pops another sushi in his mouth. “I’m obsessed with old soul music lately.”

“I’m the lead singer,” Mare goes on. “I steered the band from the start, and I’m still the face of Kissing Dirt, but I’m not in charge. We let our sound develop organically, and wherever it takes us, that’s where we’ll go.”

“Cool,” I say, relieved that maybe I won’t be as out of place here as I assumed. “I hope I can offer something. Do whatever you normally do during these sessions, and I’ll try my best to jump in.”

“That’s my guy,” Star says. “Ready to play music?”

Mare nods. “Let’s do it. We’ll keep it casual, mess around here in the studio, and see what develops.”

I’m relieved that the second we start playing music, the collaboration feels as easy and natural as it did last time. The band lets me play around on a few of their new songs, and while they have to encourage me to bring my own style a few times, I’m not nearly as hesitant as I was when we first met.

Owen assured me that they’re genuine, kind people, and you can feel that in their songs. But I never imagined we’d open the session talking about the sounds gray whales make or that they’d see my interest in classical piano as a good thing.

Honestly, they’re kind of geeks, and I couldn’t imagine a more reassuring discovery than that.

After a couple hours of play, I’m swaying back and forth at a high-tech keyboard, totally lost in the beauty of a new melody. I improvise a flourish, a chord progression toward the end of the song, and when we hit the final note, everyone is looking at me with impressed smiles.

“Damn, Nico,” Case says. “Brilliant move.”

“Yeah,” Star agrees. “And you totally sell it with that dance.”

Since my junior high music teacher, I’ve thought my swaying was something I needed to squash out, a bad habit that distracted from my playing.

I rub the back of my head. “Oh, yeah, the chords just came to me, I guess.”

“Do you dance when you play live?” Mare asks.

I swallow. “I haven’t played live since I was a teenager,” I confess. “And I totally understand if that’s disqualifying.”

“Any reason why you don’t?” Mare asks.

“I’ve never really had the opportunity. Music has always been a side project for me. And I’ve been so busy at school and at work.”

I'm aware that Mare, Case, and Star have devoted themselves to their talents, and while I’m very proud of all that I’ve accomplished in my academics and career, when it comes to music, I can’t say that I’ve done the same.

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