Chapter Fourteen

We ended up playing three of Bobby's songs that first session, and while the energy was tremendous, there were things that were missing, and things there were way too much of. I can tell you exactly what all those things were.

For one, Bobby refused to play the guitar, but just sang. Joey Anthony thought there was something missing from the first and told us that.

"Isn't there supposed to be another guitar part or keyboards, or something?" he wondered.

My dad volunteered the information that Bobby usually played the guitar on that song, so Joey Anthony told him to play one.

"There's guitars over there", he gestured to a corner of the room. "Come on, do your thing".

"We already have a guitar player", was Bobby's response. In fact, Mario had not stopped playing, even though the rest of us had. He was off in some different universe entirely. That was just the way it was with him. Once he was plugged in and turned on he stayed that way until someone eventually pulled the plug. Roy was understandably nervous about doing that. He worried that Mario might not start up again later, and so he kept him turned on, and let him play. Meanwhile, Joey Anthony was getting a little upset.

"The song needs a fucking rhythm guitar", he said, "that's your job", he said to Bobby, who was still pacing around the room, less jittery but still twitching like the scarecrow in The Wizard of Oz.

"I'm the lead singer", he proclaimed, and to prove it he sang as in a Broadway musical, "I'm the singer, and I sing!", holding that last note as he imitated jumping rope around the room.

"What the fuck", Joey Anthony spat, disgusted. I wanted to tell him that I could take care of it, and signed to my dad, who translated.

"Pablo's going to double up on the bass to capture the rhythm lines as well", he told everyone. Roy was just fine with that, and Joey Anthony shrugged and said we'd give it a try. So we did. We did 'Stoplight' again and this time I was playing a bit out of my mind, I had to admit. I had thought about playing that way for some time, but never had really attempted it. I was playing almost two lines at once. Fortunately the bass line itself could be simplified, reduced to some very short elements, which I did. As for the rhythm guitar part, I used my ring finger and thumbs on both hands to do both. It went okay if I say so myself.

Joey Anthony and I were in sync once again. Mario continued his rant or whatever you call it. Bobby went into his thing, being the singer and hogging the stage with his mugging and prancing and various antics. I was concentrating pretty hard so I wasn't paying too much attention. I didn't even notice that Roy was recording this time.

We finished the song and some of us were satisfied, at least to some extent. The thing there was too much of was of course the guitar. Mario's. It was a novelty at first, the way he was playing, but after about ten minutes he went into a kind of a loop, not repeating exactly but closely enough so you'd notice. He'd run out of ideas. He'd done all his bit. We had heard the whole thing and what sounded astounding at first became more annoying the more that we heard it.

Roy rushed us through another two songs. These were Bobby songs also, and like Mario's bit, were pretty much similar to the one we had already done. On the plus side, it was easy to do them. On the negative side, it was boring. I already knew these songs too well, having been forced to repeat them downstairs in my room every night for the previous three weeks. Joey Anthony tried to put variations into what he was playing, but the pattern on Bobby's typical vocals, the repetitive themes and lines, the growing monotony of Mario's genius, all led to exhaustion by the end of the set.

Exhaustion, at least, for me and for Roy and for Joey Anthony too. After we finished the third song for the third time - which meant after eight or nine takes in all - he set down his drum sticks, stood up, and walked out of the room, down the hall and into the street. I could tell he was tense. In between each take he'd become more and more agitated, frustrated with the constant Bobby patter, the incessant Mario feedback, the sameness of the songs and the closeness of the room. I found him outside with a cigarette.

"The fuck", he grunted as I joined him. "I mean, what the fuck?". He laughed.

"At first I just thought the guy was an Artist, with a capital A, you know what I mean? I figured, hey, if he's not saying hello it's because he's a star."

I just shook my head. Nobody had told him about Mario, I guess.

"But come on, the guy's totally fucked up, am I right?", he asked, and I nodded.

"And what's with the clown?", he added, referring to Bobby. Again my answer was a shrug.

"You know this guy?", he asked. I shrugged again, shook my head. I didn't have my whiteboard, and Joey Anthony didn't know signing.

"Fucking clown", he repeated. "Is he Irish? Do you know? I got a feeling he is. Would explain it. What the fuck? Plays the guitar and won't play. The songs need guitar. They need something for sure. I know that you tried, and I like what you did, but still, you know what I mean?"

I nodded again. I did know, and I agreed.

"Maybe that Roy guy'll find someone else". He sighed, took a drag and paused for a moment.

"Eh", he decided, "the whole thing's a joke. Tell you what, Pablo. I'm gone. Out of here. It was nice playing with you. Let's do it again, some other time. Just you and me. Okay?"

I nodded and we shook hands. He threw his butt on the street and stomped on it with relish. Then with a wave of his hand he headed off down the street. My dad came out then to call us back in, but I showed him Joey Anthony walking away and gestured with a finger slash across my throat that that was it. Show over. Time to go home. My dad was relieved. He'd had more than enough for one day.

We went back inside to explain it to Roy, then we gathered our stuff and went home. Roy finally unplugged Mario as we were just leaving and the noise he was making switched off, just like that. I glanced back and saw his fingers were no longer moving. Mario hadn't budged the whole time. I wondered what Roy was going to do next with the man, but as far as I was concerned, it was over. Over and done with for good.

Once again, I was wrong.