By Michelle
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Albuquerque, NM
It was time to get a new guitarist, that was for certain.
Life as a traveling musician means uncertainty and almost guarantees a well-greased turnstile of a revolving door.
Into our second month at the Albuquerque Holiday Inn and "Carlos" decides he's been reborn as Jimi Hendrix. As if possessed, one evening he strolls into the lounge, picks up his stratocaster during the "dinner set" and cranks it to "11". Needless to say, I fear someone got a baked potato launched into Taos.
I think he just kind of snapped. Let me explain. Life on the road can be exciting or extremely dull. This particular gig was fraught with slow nights and playing our set to candles. Occasionally, we would have the 'good' weekend night when the National Rodeo Association would be in town and things really rocked. More than often, we would sit at the bar and nurse beers until it was time to pack up. Not exactly what young musicians from LA had envisioned.
Carlos just hit the wall. He would turn up the volume and with eyes closed, retreat into some smoky club on the LA Sunset Strip. It was time he went home.
We called up a musicians contact service in Los Angeles to send out another "victim". I told the voice on the other end, that maybe we needed someone not quite as young and ambitious, a "seasoned player", someone who could handle rejection nightly. You know, A "Pro".
"Mike" drove out the next day. Armed with a cadre of Outlaws and Eagles cassettes, he enjoyed the long hours behind the wheel. When he arrived on our one day off, I met him in the hotel lobby.
Standing near the local attractions kiosk, Mike looked tall and thin. Seemed to me he either had a receding hairline or a high forehead. I was not sure. His eyes were small set and rather bird-like and darted quickly to meet my gaze. His nose was large and prominent and contributed to an odd look. Okay, he didn't have the charisma of the young Carlos, but with the right attitude, I was sure he would make up for lack of pizazz in the looks department.
"Hi, I am so glad you could come out so quickly. It's great to meet you!" I held out my hand. "Do you want to start rehearsals today ?"
Mike studied my face and nodded quickly, "yes, that would be fine".
Then the air got still and there was a long pregnant pause. I struggled to make small talk. You know, the kind of 'let's get to know each other better' talk.
"So, do you have family back in LA?" I figured that was a fair question.
With my inquiry met with silence, I struggled to get more specific. "Wife, girlfriend?". Mike shifted uncomfortably. I was thinking to myself, "this is great! this guy probably has a tragic story, and here I am opening wounds!"
"What do you mean by that? Girlfriend? Wife", came the response.
"Well, um, I was just wondering...." I was caught off guard.
"Are you saying that it seems like I don't have a wife or I can't get a girlfriend?"
Mike clearly was on the defensive.
"No! not at all! I'm so sorry!" came springing from my lips as I thought "we are in BIG trouble".
Suddenly, I was longing for Purple Haze. But it was too late, Carlos had hit the road. We were here and Mike Halsey was our guitarist for better or for worse.
to be continued.....
