Lukey Kid

We got to Gainesville bright and early - ten in the morning. It took effort to wake Joey and Brendan up, but Olli was the worst. He got off the bus in penguin pajama pants and mussed hair that looked like mine in humid weather.

The very first place we went was Justin’s old neighborhood he grew up in, where his mom and wife lived. Gainesville was his hometown.

I’d never seen a smile as wide as his when he first laid eyes on his newborn daughter. His wife and parents stood in the driveway of what I assumed was his house, the tour buses parked on the side of the road. He stumbled off the bus and ran straight to his family, taking little Abigail Bryant and cradling her in his arms.

Then as if on cue, he kissed his wife like he hadn’t seen her in a decade. She was small and fragile-looking, stray auburn hairs hanging in her face, but just like her husband, her face was split into a huge grin.

All of us hung back by the buses, a little intimidated. Olli and his band swooned over how “cute” they were, while the rest of us simply smiled.

We had lunch with Justin’s family, and too soon, it was time to head over to the venue for a sound check.

“You’re coming to the show tonight, right?” he had asked.

“Of course,” his wife beamed.

Then we were off, the instruments bouncing along in the backs of our buses, our fingers tingling with the anticipation of our first stage performance. The stage was empty, of course. The show wouldn’t start until seven and we had plenty of time to run through a sound check.

Plaster Caster was up last since we were headlining (!!!). I wasn’t nervous at all, but anxious, like my heart was telling the world to hurry up and fast forward to seven PM!

“Am I gonna have to smack you again so you can play tonight?” Soria teased, shaking Ren’s shoulder as he adjusted the mic. He smiled and looked at the ground, his face going red.

“What? When was this?” Brendan smirked.

“Before the talent show two years ago,” she laughed, hesitating a little. Her boyfriend held her around the neck like he was about to give her a noogie.

“Yeah. It was completely random and didn’t help me at all,” he explained. Soria struggled out of his grip and ruffled his hair.

“We wouldn’t be here now if I didn’t do it!” she countered.

“Oh! That clears it up. Brendan and I thought he just puked in the parking lot or you two kissed,” I added, sharing a confident smirk with our drummer.

“Aww! That’s like when little kids insult each other ‘cause they like each other!” Olli ran up, apparently eavesdropping. They shook their heads.

“Oh, Olli, don’t worry. You’ll find love someday,” Justin smacked his back with a dazed smile, evidently remembering his wife as he helped us set up and connect all the wires. “Just look at me.”

He rolled his eyes. “Puh-leese. You’re old enough to be my dad,” he spat.

Justin lunged like he was about to hit him, but he didn’t. Olli screamed and ran backstage. He broke out laughing, the first time I’d ever really seen him express humor.

“You kids get ready. Practice. It’s your first show of your first tour.”

He was right.

The show was epic. Olli opened with his backup band. Even though he played all his instruments in the studio, he only played the guitar live, the keyboard a backing track. His voice was powerful if not whiny; his music was cheery if not cheesy.

The song “My Bad Habit” was a fan favorite. He said it was the first song he’d ever written, and when he played it at a coffee shop one night people loved it. Soria laughed, telling him “Anonymous” was the first song she’d ever made. Likewise, every kid in Claymore had heard it.

Olli trotted off the stage sweaty and smiling, introducing Fire Motion as “The Leprechaun Gang.” Justin returned the favor by dubbing him “Popcorn Boy.” That’s not a typo, either. He actually said “Popcorn.”

Just like I predicted, Fire Motion still had that punk flame burning in their amps. Justin’s years of driving around those kinds of bands definitely showed. These were true Gainesville kids playing. He crooned lead vocals while playing bass, every now and then missing a chord or note, but it didn’t matter.

“Joy” was their best song - I thought so, and so did the crowd. Nothing was happier than their stage presence. They sounded just like the title - Joy. It was bouncy and rockish, but had Fire Motion’s lyrical justice.

“And hey
We gotta make it out with all our limbs in tact
And joy
Is just a part of life,” he’d sung.

They nodded over to Plaster Caster, and I got goosebumps seeing the crowd.

Maybe Aaron was down there listening, or Mom and Dad were watching our performance. That thought alone was enough to make me smile for a long time.

Our first song was our hit – “Anonymous.” The one that drew all the Fire Motion and Olli Lolli fans to us. The one that every kid who knew us sang along to. The one that had that special way of disintegrating gravity. The one that let us be heard.

And the first song we’d ever perform in front of at least a hundred people who had no idea who we were or where we came from.

Next up was “Be Still” - a song Soria wrote when she was in Santa Monica last summer that she said had no real meaning. But it had a stylized bite to it that only she could have came up with.

“What’s worse -
I’m setting you up or letting you down?
Nobody wants to see a loser try
Setting you up or letting you down
But why don’t we care the heroes die?
Let down your hopes
Let down your dreams
We’re all just fighting for your feelings…”

The show was like a bigger gig, since we played more than just five or six songs. We powered through “Common Sense” and “Slopeside,” brought down the roof with “Don’t Coast,” invited summer back with “Alive,” and murdered silence with “Time” and “Melody.”

To close one heck of a show, we broke out a brand spankin’ old song Soria found the day before we flew to Miami. She said it was ancient and dead with only a good chorus, but we collaborated to bring it back to life.

“Kids Don’t Listen,” it was called.

Well tonight, they did.

“Can I ever find my way…”

Yeah, it was pretty dang old. But that don’t mean it wasn’t awesome. Rumor has it that she wrote it the day after she made Anonymous. Man, it was old.

“It was a nuclear summer
Time seemed to slow around this town
Until you came into my life -
Can’t start to say how much you changed it…”

Ren smiled over at Soria before belting out the pre-chorus that didn’t exist until about a month before we recorded it.

“The bells have rung and now it’s time to celebrate….”

The crowd chanted along with every word that was sang, almost louder than the music.

I had a good feeling about this I Don’t Know tour.

“So there I sit
Locked inside my mind
It’s been a ball -
But I’m just being sarcastic
Haven’t you heard?
Kids don’t listen!
Yeah, yeah, right out of this oak tree…”

“Kids don’t listen” was definitely thrown back at us with high frequency. Yeah, it was true, most of the time. But these kids did listen. Well…they were big kids.

“Play by the rules to gain my trust
It’s in your hands, now don’t you break it!
I won’t keep you from your life
I’ve got regrets and I’ll stay away…”

Soria evidently made that second verse. Who else? She was that kind of person who never completely spills the beans to strangers. But the Plaster Caster family - that includes Joey - were no strangers. And that was why we were the best friends any band could ever be.

During the second chorus, my pick flung out of my hands so I had to use my fingers, which bothered the bananas out of me. I hated calluses, but it wasn’t so bad at the moment. Like, whatever. I got over it.

The bridge was a surprise for us this time around. Since this was our closing song, Justin galloped onto the platform we were playing on and took matters into his own hands, getting some crowd interaction.

“Hey! Here’s a band you never see - bunch’a talented kids we got here, am I right?”

Apparently, he was.

“Yeahhh! Anyways, Plaster Caster just came out with a little CD…does anyone here have it?”
Apparently, they did. Knowing that he was a part of the Gainesville music scene so long, I fought to not be surprised when the crowd responded so heavily.

“Holy crap! Damn!…well, let’s get to the point - you guys wanna give ‘em a little help here or what?!”

And just like fireworks, we exploded into the last forty seconds of our show with an undying passion for our music.

“So here we are now
Screamin’ at the top of our lungs here!” Ren sang.

“I came
I saw
I conquered-” Justin added.

“And yeah - I couldn’t be prouder!
Let’s hear it again:”
“Kids don’t listen!”
“Hey!
Hey!
Right out of your stereo….”

And with the help of our Not Listening buddies, we had a great tour locked up ahead of us, thus a great path paved.

Backstage, we piled on top of each other with excitement and anxiety that unfolded during the show. I felt on top of the world, invincible - there were so many flashbacks to seventh grade, hanging backstage after the show and sharing one heck of a feel-good moment.

“That was epic!” Joey congratulated.

Brendan threw his arms in the air, exhausted. Each one of us was sweating our hearts out, higher than the stars on this pristine fall night.

“We are gonna have so much fun,” Brendan panted.

“Heck yeah we are!” I smiled.

Justin went over to give us a thumbs-up, but then pointed to the back door to the parking lot.

“Get your asses on the bus - we gotta be in Fairfax by tomorrow night!”

Ya gotta love life.