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Vadim, the diva rock star wannabe of the expatriate nothing band tells us that we're going to be on national television for our show on Saturday. I figure that this merited going to a rehearsal so that I could play on more than three songs. I show up at the Bad Apple, our performing and practicing venue and Vadim tells us all that we have an audition in a half hour at a club called Bedrock, located in the next town over. This unexpected fact almost brought Se, our drummer, and Vadim to throwing punches. After they'd finished a long series of expletives and plate of pork ribs Vadim and Se were ready to go. We taxi over to the club called Bedrock in Yousong (the next town over) and regroup. Before we know it we are on stage playing a small seven-song set. After our set the owner of the club, four men in three piece suits, and a woman wearing a full length velvet dress usher us into the "VIP room," complete with a private bar, and plush couches. They push a button and instantly they are filling the table with expensive whiskey, colas, snacks, and the most exotic orange juice for me. Soon Vadim is talking over the business details with a woman on the phone in English who then translates them to Boss. They proposed us playing four times a week, including every Saturday night. We'd start at 12:30 am and play two sets of about an hour each. Vadim told them we'd prefer to play fewer times during the month, one week day and one weekend day, alternating weeks. I was nervous being there. I felt like any minute a man with a Tommy gun was going to pop up from behind the bar and threaten to cut off our thumbs. I came home at 1:00 AM. Celeste couldn't sleep a wink since she knew that I'd be coming back to our small studio apartment and wake her up anyway. I really don't even like the music we are playing. If it were jazz, that'd be another thing but it just isn't worth the sacrifice for a nothing band. I'll tell them that I'm out of the band today. The Death of a Disco Dancer--Scottro [1999-05-22]
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