Bandwidth

‘The only two things in life
that make it worth living,
are guitars that tune good
and firm feeling women.’

- Waylon Jennings, Luckenbach Texas

From: Lucie Rae
To: Ian Shearer
Subject: Breakthrough Reviews

Hi Ian,

I am working on the Breakthrough mini-festival, which is part of this year’s Open House Festival. Would you be interested in doing a review of the Caitlin Rose gig for us this Wednesday?

Lucie Rae

From: Ian Shearer
To: Lucie Rae
Subject: Re: Breakthrough Reviews

Dear Lucie,

I normally would not agree to go on a date with someone I had never met before but judging purely by your name I am sure you are hot and awesome, so yes I would love to go the Caitlin Rose gig with you.

See you then,

Ian

From: Lucie Rae
To: Ian Shearer
Subject: Re: Breakthrough Reviews

Ian,

I’m afraid you have misunderstood. I was only suggesting you come to the show and write a review for us. I have no intention of going on a date with you.

Lucie Rae

From: Ian Shearer
To: Lucie Rae
Subject: Re: Breakthrough Reviews

Lucie,

I understand the need for discretion and I appreciate your professionalism. I will see you on Wednesday, strictly on ‘business’ terms, of course

Please find attached three poems I wrote with you in mind.

Love,

Ian

I spent all day Wednesday writing in a coffee shop. I had planned to have a nice pub meal before the gig but by the time 6pm rolled around I was terrified by the prospect of going on a date sober, so I chose to forego the food in favour of two pints of Guinness. I had a double Jack as an aperitif and, slightly buzzed from drinking on an empty stomach, I headed round to the Oh Yeah Music Centre, where only two weeks previous I had made a terrific arse of myself. Better try to behave myself tonight, I thought, and decided to drink beer instead of whiskey. I had arrived in time for Jonny Corndawg’s set and I was immediately stabbed by a powerful jealousy of the man’s awesome cowboy hat and badass beard. Not only do I not have either of those things but even if I somehow managed to get my hands on them, I would just look foolish. My jealously was quickly melted away by Jonny’s funny, laconic lyrics and his fantastic picking skills. As soon as he finished his set I bought his album and the poor man had barely set foot off the stage before I was shaking his hand, demanding he sign my CD. He was very gracious for such a talented son of a gun and I can’t think of enough nice things to say about him. A true gen-u-wine original.

Jonny was saved from my wittering by Will, who showed up with his camera and tried to duck past me without making eye contact.

‘Will!’ I yelled. I think I saw him mouth the word, ‘Shit…’ but he came over anyway, forcing the corners of his mouth up in a valiant attempt at a smile. I bothered him until I ran out of beer and when I got back from the bar he had disappeared into the crowd. The Lost Brothers took the stage. Don’t mention Simon and Garfunkel… Don’t mention Simon and Garfunkel… Actually I don’t really like Simon and Garfunkel and I did like The Lost Brothers. When they finished their set I bought their album too. I tried to make a joke about only buying it because I wanted the Caitlin Rose CD and felt obliged to buy theirs too, since they were standing right there. My drunkenness got in the way of my timing, though, and it came across that I was just swearing at them. After buying both CDs I broke my beer only rule, as always, and the next whiskey went down too fast. As always. My wallet was getting light so I decided to go get some cash before Caitlin started. I wandered around town looking like some poor bastard gripped by delirium and finally found a goddamn ATM but on my way back I passed The Northern Whig. Almost. I decided all my walking warranted a drink and ducked inside.

‘J&B Black please,’ I said. The barman looked puzzled, and rightly so, as no such drink exists. ‘Sorry, JD, black,’ I said.

‘Um, we have Single Barrel Jack, if that’s what you mean,’ he said.

‘No, Jesus, don’t mind me I’m just drunk. Johnny Walker. Black Label. That’s the one.’

‘No problem,’ he said.

‘Too many fucking J’s in the whiskey game,’ I muttered, and decided I better keep quiet. I would just be a refined gentleman, sitting alone at the bar sipping my scotch. Dames love men who drink scotch. Dames? Christ I’ve stood Lucie up! I slammed back the whiskey and hoofed it back round to the gig.

‘Is Lucie here?’ I asked the girl at the front desk.

‘Yeah she’s inside.’ I dashed in and stopped at the bar for a pint and some further enquiry.

‘Anyone seen Lucie?’ I asked.

‘Yeah, she just went past here…’

I stood at the back and scanned the crowd. In what was either sixth sense or dumb fucking luck, I got it right first time.

‘Are you Lucie?’ I asked, and I think I saw her mouth the word ‘Shit…’

‘Yeah,’ she said.

‘I’m Ian,’ I said.

‘Oh… nice to meet you.’

‘Yeah, you too,’ I said, and then I ran out of shit to say. I started swilling my beer like a dog that just ate a packet of peanuts…

[Editor's Note: Where do you get this shit?]

…and tried to pretend it was the fault of the plastic cup that I was dribbling beer down my shirt. Then I spotted Jonny Corndawg and suddenly decided I wanted a quote from him for this article. He made it in to the toilets before I was able to accost him and I decided it wouldn’t be prudent to follow. With hindsight I now see that waiting right outside the door and pouncing on him post-piss really wasn’t much better. He was mildly alarmed.

‘Hey man, is there any chance you could give me a quote about Caitlin? Not some corny bullshit but something cool, from someone who knows her personally,’ I said.

‘Sure man,’ he said, and he did me one better. He sat down with my pen and paper and wrote a short paragraph for me. That’s just how cool he is. And here is what he wrote:

‘Caitlin Rose is a real force to be reckoned with. I’ve known her since she was 15. Her craft wasn’t polished or quite honed in then but she was every bit as dangerous and fiery as she is today. She’s the real deal. I love her dearly and when I grow up I want to be like her.’

- Jonny Corndawg

There wasn’t a damn person in the room who would’ve disagreed with any of that once Caitlin started playing. I think everyone loved her dearly and really, how could they not? She’s a beautiful country singer who writes beautiful country songs and sings them beautifully. It’s enough to break a man’s heart, frankly. I think she’s going to be big, and I feel rather privileged to have seen her play in such an intimate setting.

When she finished playing I noticed she was signing albums and, managing to contain the urge to start screaming hysterically like a sixteen year old girl at an early Beatles concert, I got her to sign my copy. Then I managed to wrangle a VIP pass off Will and followed him round to the hotel where all the bands were staying for an after-gig pint. A pint I really did not need at that point, but it was free and I ain’t never turned down a free beer yet. I was sitting at a table with Will and Lucie when the spirit of Mickey took me.

‘I’m going to buy her a beer,’ I announced. I imagined it playing out like that scene in The Wrestler when Mickey buys Marisa Tomei a beer and they bond while discussing the finer nuances of Eighties heavy metal.

‘You should definitely do that,’ said Will. Looking back I probably should have been able to detect a note of Schadenfreude in his voice but I was too hammered.

‘I goddamn will, Will!’ I said. I bought two pints of Stella – making that a second beer I really did not need – and took them outside to where Caitlin was hanging out with her band. She was on the phone and, even in spite of my drunkenness and the spirit of Mickey, I suddenly got very shy. I explained to her band mates that I had bought her a beer but didn’t want to interrupt her call. They were encouraging, in the way an adult might be encouraging of a child who just did a really shit drawing. Eventually she hung up and I gave her the beer, babbling something about how much I enjoyed the show. She thanked me and had a drink, but they explained they weren’t staying and had to leave for the after-party at the Duke of York, so they passed the beer around and gave it back half full. Or half empty, depending on your outlook. I staggered back into the lobby waving the beers around in celebration.

‘Aren’t you pleased with yourself,’ said Will.

‘Yes actually, I am,’ I said. ‘Because that officially qualifies as the coolest thing I have ever done. Probably the coolest thing I ever will do.’

‘Great. You should write about it in your usual self-congratulating tone,’ he said.

‘I goddamn will, Will!’ I said.

And I did.

Check ‘em out:

Of course Will has already done a fucking Bandwidth Session with Caitlin. You can also check her out on MySpace or her official website.

The Lost Brothers MySpace page.

Jonny Corndawg’s MySpace page. And 2 free songs on Bandcamp!

The Open House Festival website.