I was young and wanted a career in music.
Image by K. Kendall via Flickr
We practiced in the basement of a pizza shop. That’s where we kept the equipment. There was a drummer, a keyboardist, a bass player and a guitarist. I was the frontman. Everyone drank beer. The bass player was an ex-junkie. Now he just got drunk. He and the guitarist sold drugs for extra cash. The guitarist owned the pizza shop.
Beer cans and cigarette butts littered the floor. By the second set the bass player was so drunk he had to sit down to play. His bass sounded like crap. The guitarist was distracted. He was the leader of the band. His hobby was collecting guns. During a break I asked him what was wrong.
“My girlfriend wants to borrow one of my pistols.”
“What the hell does she want with one of your pistols?”
“She said she wants to kill herself.”
That’s what it was like being in a rock ‘n’ roll band in Pittsburgh.
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