I’m hanging with the roadies in the wings when James gets in my face. “What are you doing here? You’re on in 20 minutes,” he hisses. He must have been scared I’d skipped out or passed out. “Just catching the… Continue Reading
His face was almost expressionless as he was watching the violinist perform on the stage of the small theatre. His eyes were watching the musician’s every move and inside them you could discern a desire so intense it could top… Continue Reading
Friday night I played another piano bar. If you’d told my younger self that all those years of practice would amount to this… Well, I probably would have been ecstatic, to be perfectly honest. But I was young and dumb… Continue Reading
Natalia’s wrinkled, spotty hands fluttered over the piano keys like a butterfly dancing on the breeze. Elegant, beautiful, serene, the sound of the aging instrument felt like a long lost friend. Her favorite was The Seasons by Tchaikovsky. Each movement… Continue Reading
When the Devil noticed me, that’s when the trouble started. I was always a fair guitar player who was just good enough to play at the local pubs on occasion. I had a fire inside me, though. I worked at… Continue Reading
Music throbs through Alexa’s chest. Her hands are raised high amongst a mass of waving arms and the sickening sweetness of too many different brands of deodorant. The heat is overbearing, but Alexa doesn’t mind. She’s close enough to see… Continue Reading
Maddelynne Baird stopped at the junction as usual, waiting for the lights. An early evening moon, whiter than all the laundry and shining tiled bathrooms of her workday, lifted her mood from weary to pensive. “This is where I stand,”… Continue Reading
“I am Taylor,” he assures. My drummer hides beneath her cymbals. My bassist coughs and apologizes to no one specific. The audition flier specifies that our all-girl band, The Four Holsters of the Apocalypse, seeks an eighteen- to nineteen-year-old female… Continue Reading
I’m meticulous about the details — the deep, baritone groove of your voice; the lean line of your hip; your abiding love of bad puns; the way you dip your head instead of saying good-bye. These are my favourites. These… Continue Reading
I had never seen anyone play the fiddle like her. To be fair, though, I hadn’t seen those many fiddlers playing on stage. I am not the most musical person. Jan was, and he reckoned that she wasn’t that good.… Continue Reading