American Love Songs (10 page)

It protested. Loudly.
“So were agreed, then,” Allanna said.
Jake sighed and gave in.

Rolling Stone
Magazine Issue dated October 17, 2009 By Emily Lorne

Newcomers The Wayward Sons Kick it Old-School—And We Like It

In the four weeks since Kansas-based newcomers the Wayward Sons first hit the airwaves, we have been inundated with requests for reviews of their highly anticipated first album,
Manifest Destiny
, as well as for information on the charismatic group.

So of course when MERI sent us an advance review copy of the album, we were all over that.
Manifest Destiny
has all the hallmarks of a solid freshman effort—originality, diversity, and sing-along-ability. The Wayward Sons beginnings as a tribute band are apparent—they havent forgotten their roots—but neither have they sacrificed innovation. True, the album has its weak spots—at only ten tracks, its run-time is only forty-one minutes, a few of the tracks tend toward what one might call “preachy” (though not in the religious sense), and the packaging is somewhat uninspiring. Still, the albums appeal is undeniable. Bust out that air guitar—youre going to need it.

The characters behind the sound are no less impressive and diverse than the album theyve created. There are no weak links on this dynamic team, but the real stars are Collins, who displays incredible diversity for someone so new to the scene, and McAvoy, a Julliard grad
²⁵
who might well have been born with a guitar in his hands. Heres a quick introduction to get you started.

Name: Chris Collins
Age: 22
Height: 511”
Eyes: Brown
Hair: Black

Position: The bio on the band website says “reverse cowgirl,” though we hear hes flexible.

Showcase: Collins has lead vocals on every track for
Manifest Destiny
, but he shows off his range particularly well in the BrennerMcAvoy collaboration “Lucky Sevens,” and the Hollies-esque “Blood Brothers” (in which Collins also laid a track for the harmonica) gives us goose bumps.

Name: Jimmy Jones
Age: 22
Height: 6
Eyes: Blue
Hair: Brown
Position: Drummer

Showcase: Jones is an accomplished percussionist, working with everything from conventional rock drum kits to retro cowbells and maracas. We like the way he works them all together in “Sourpuss”— besides, the drum solo is inspiring.

Name: Parker McAvoy Age: 25
Height: 510”
Eyes: Green
Hair: Blond
Position: Lead guitar

²⁵
Parker had always been very careful not to mention the actual name of the school hed attended, but people found out anyway.

Showcase: To be fair, there isnt a single track on this freshman album that doesnt shine with Parker McAvoys raw talent, but for pure entertainment and difficulty factor, check out “High Fidelity”—soon to be heard in guitar stores near you.

Name: Jake Brenner
Age: 21
Height: 61”
Eyes: Hazel
Hair: Brown
Position: Bassist

Showcase: Brenner seems to favor the old-school wandering bass lines, and “Independence” and “Politics” are great examples of bass parts that are almost as complicated as McAvoys fast-paced riffs. Hes also a talented lyricist, penning the words to half of the songs on the album.

PRODIGAL: OFFICIAL BLOG OF THE WAYWARD SONS

 

Date: Tuesday, October 20, 2009 Author: Jake

A Cry for Help So you guys and ladies may have noticed a trend lately. If you havent, I will give you a clue. Here is a picture of Chris getting smoochies from a pretty lady at an afterparty. Here is a picture of Jimmy and twins Sarah and Jessica from Connecticut. And of course I am getting laid all the time, though any pictures are naturally too sexy to be posted in such a public place where innocent children might see them.

Do you know whos not getting laid? Parker. There is no excuse for this, ladies! Parker has taken some kind of vow of celibacy or something. I am counting on you to get him to break it. Seriously. What self-respecting rock star hasnt been laid in… actually, I have no idea how long its been, which should tell you something.

At least he doesnt get cranky like Chris does. Anyway, my point (and I do have one) is: we need to get Parker laid. Whos with me?

W
ITH the way things had been going, they were bound to hit the ceiling sometime, Jake knew that, but that didnt make it easier to handle. Tonights had been a tough crowd, or maybe they just hadnt been up to their usual standard, too worn out from endless traveling. Either way, he felt shitty about it, and hed lost his usual drive to pull out his laptop and type out a quick ten-minute post-show blog entry.

“That sucked,” he said disgustedly to no one in particular, reaching for the hem of his soaked T-shirt and dragging it over his head.

“I dont wanna talk about it,” Chris growled, and Jake couldnt blame him.

 

“I need a beer,” Jimmy put in, shutting the door behind them. Parker slid down the wall onto a bench and put his head back. “Get me a few, would you?”

Jake knew itd been a bad night if even Parker wanted to drown his sorrows. “Christ,” he muttered disgustedly. “I want a shower and, like, a memory scrub of the past hour and a half.”

The thing is, they werent used to this. They were
always
on— they never had an off night. Sure, some nights were better than others, but this was the first time they hadnt clicked onstage. Jake couldnt categorically state what the hell had been wrong with their performance; he knew it had been technically okay, that they had been in tune, that they were together.

They just sucked anyway.

 

A knock on the door startled them out of their funk, and one of the guys from Red Star came in.

 

Chris looked up in disgust. “Son, you better not be here to gloat, cause I sure as shit aint in the mood to hear it.”

The guy didnt bother getting offended at Chriss… Chris-ness. “Naw, man. Just wanted to say dont beat yourselves up over it. Shit happens, you know? We all got off days.”

“You got a fix for this?” Jimmy wanted to know. Hed broken seven drumsticks tonight; Jake knew this intimately, because one of the flying fragments had smacked him in the back of the head.

“Ice creams better than beer, and skip practice tomorrow.” “Beer,” Jake said mournfully. Then he caught a whiff of himself. God
damn
, he needed a shower.

 

“Alcohols a depressant. Trust me on this one, kid.”

“There a Dairy Queen around here somewhere?” Chris finally asked, probably annoyed that he didnt have a reason to be irritated at the guy anymore.

“No idea. Go for the convenience store a couple blocks down, though—theyve got a good selection of Ben & Jerrys.” He shrugged. “For some reason, it helps if you eat it out of the carton with a spoon.”

Jake was pretty sure this advice could have come straight from his little sister, and he was suddenly aware of how much he missed having dinner with her once a week. He made a mental note to call her after this impromptu shopping trip. “Thanks for the peptalk,” he said weakly.

“Yeah, sure. Thats what the tour circuits all about, anyway.” Then he left, letting the door swing shut behind him.

Jake took a shower and then took his advice, and while it didnt cure all his problems, he did feel a lot better. When he crawled into bed that night, there were only a few minutes of agony before he dropped off to sleep.

The guys name, once Jake bothered to remember, turned out to be Elliot. Once he figured out that Elliot wasnt half as big of an asshole as his lead singer,
²⁶
it wasnt a hardship to hang out with him; actually, it was a sometimes much-needed change of pace from the everyday insanity that was the Wayward Sons tour bus. Elliot had a sharp sense of humor, but he was usually pretty calm, and being around him helped Jake unwind.

They were in Minnesota for the night, playing a mid-sized venue, and if Jake had to hang around with Chris and Jimmy for another second, he might crawl out of his skin. Instead, he hung back at the concert and waited for Elliot, watching from backstage with his feet up on an unused speaker.

Elliot dropped by at what Jake couldnt help thinking of as “halftime,” even though it barely lasted five minutes. It was just enough to give the band a breather to rehydrate, but Jake appreciated it.

“Good set tonight,” Elliot commented, downing half a liter of water without stopping. “Thanks for warming them up for us.”

Jake smiled; they had been on fire tonight, Chris especially, and the audience had noticed. “No problem. I see youre keeping up just fine.”

“You guys may be young, but we have experience,” Elliot said wisely. “Which mostly means were used to this insanity. You sick of your boys already?”

Making a face, Jake debated telling the truth. He shrugged mentally; if anyone was going to understand what he was going through, it was Elliot. “Its just a lot of Chris to take at one time, you know? I hung out with him all day, I worked with him, I dont want to have to party with him too. I needed a break.”

“What about Parker?”

 

Jake gave him a wry smile. “Parker failed Rock Star 101. Hes sleeping—think hes coming down with something. Itll be karma if he

gives it to me; it went the other way last time.”

²⁶
Or Jakes, for that matter.

“Seriously? Hes sleeping? Its, like, not even ten oclock.” “Yeah, I told you, hes not feeling well.”
“He seems kind of standoffish.”

Jake gaped like a fish. “Really? Parker?” Parker was the least snobby person on the planet, especially when you stood him up next to Chris for comparison. Then again, he wasnt exactly what one might call outgoing.

Elliot shot him a sideways look. “Youre not being sarcastic.” “Not at all. Parkers—okay, you know how I said he failed Rock Star 101?”

 

“Yeah….”

 

Jake leaned forward, his own bottle of water tucked between his knees. “Heres the secret. Parker is debilitatingly shy.”

 

Elliot blinked in apparent disbelief. “Shy.”

Jake nodded. “Stage fright, stuttering, blushing-to-the-roots-ofhis-hair-when-he-meets-new-people shy. Seriously, before we got this gig, he worked in a music store, and I think the only reason that worked out for him is because he pretended he was talking to the instruments.”

“How does he manage on stage?”

“I hold his glasses for him. Its sort of a ritual. If he cant see the audience, its not so bad. He just has to be careful not to trip on something.”

Chad dropped by trailing cigarette smoke, blatantly flaunting the no-smoking sign that was not four feet behind him. “Two minutes, Eli.” Elliot stood up, dusted off his knees, and reached for his second water bottle. “Duty calls. You going to stick around after?” Jake shrugged. “Ive got nothing better to do.”

 

“You want to go out for a beer or something?”

 

“No afterparties?” Jake said hopefully. The last thing he wanted right now was a crowd.

“Nah, I know a quiet place where nobodyll bother us.” There was something unidentifiable in Elliots voice, but Jake didnt bother trying to decode it. He probably just needed a vacation from his own band.

“Eli,” Chad said again.

 

Elliot rolled his eyes. “Coming, Mother.” He smiled at Jake. “Well take this up later, I guess. Meet you in the ready room?”

Jake looked at Chad standing behind Elliot and tried not to let his emotions show all over his face. He was pretty sure he failed spectacularly. “How bout I just wait in the hallway with the security guard instead. Someone to keep me company.”

Elliot lowered his voice. “Dont blame you in the slightest.” Then he nodded toward the stage. “See you later.”

Jake waited out the rest of the set with as much patience as he could muster. What he really wanted was a nice, juicy hamburger, a never-ending plate of fries, a beer, and someone to talk to whose pockets he didnt live in seven days of the week. Right now, he was more than ready to wait, even if he only got two out of four in the end.

It turned out that Elliot really did know a place where no one would bother them, and he must have known the bouncer or something, because the man just bumped his fist without checking for either of their IDs. As soon as they were inside the bar, the bartender cleared a table for them in the back, relocating its previous occupants with the promise of free beverages. Once they were settled, he dropped off two pints of something imported and then went back to the bar as if he never saw them.

Jake smiled across the table. “So, you come here often?” he asked drily.

 

“I grew up here,” Elliot explained.

 

“In a bar?”

“In Minnesota, smartass.” Elliot rolled his eyes and picked up his beer. “The bartenders an old friend, and hell keep anyone who might recognize us off our backs.”

Jake wasnt at the point in his career where hed expect anyone to recognize him, and he was fairly certain that unless any of the patrons had come from the concert, no one would recognize Elliot, either, but he appreciated the anonymity anyway. He relaxed back into the booths cheap vinyl upholstery and sighed happily. “God, I needed to get away. Thanks for rescuing me.”

“Its a mutual thing,” Elliot assured him. “If I had to listen to Chad breathe for two more seconds, I wouldve punched him in the face.”

“Talk about fight or flight.” Jake tentatively sipped at his beer. It was good, a little hoppier than he was used to, and it soothed his frazzled nerves.

“Something like that,” Elliot agreed. “What about you? You got the lead singer blues too?”

Jake shook his head, unable to really put his finger on what had been up with the guys tonight, what had made him need to get away, but it had something to do with the way he could feel their tension settling into his own shoulders. “No, I… Im not sure what it was. Maybe Im just going stir-crazy. And maybe—this is going to sound terrible—theyre great guys, my best friends in the world, but I hope to God they all get laid tonight, because I have no idea what else could make them so uptight or how Ill deal with them for the rest of the week if they dont.”

Elliot snorted. “I wouldnt have thought Chris would have that problem.”

Making a face, Jake considered the situation. “Me neither. Maybe hes just, I dont know, sick of being on the road or something. I mean, this is his dream, mine too, but long hours on a bus will do just about anybody in.”