Overcompensation
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Compensation free porn video
July 2006 Austin, TX
"All I need ... is everything you are, everything you are..."
Do you remember that song? No, I didn't either. Not until I met the singer, and she reminded me. Now I recall it from a while back, a few years ago. Wasn't it on some Internet service commercial?
Yeah, it was. The song's still around, still a good one even if people don't remember it. There's emotion in it, heart, feeling.
Great lyrics also, and a tempo of diverse chords stunningly blended together. For good reason, the song was a hit in its day.
It's not the only good tune on its album either- just the only one that ever made it to the big time. All the other songs are also good. Some are mellow, others are sweet. Still others put forth an important message. None are typical teen pop, they're more rock or blues. All can be catchy. But they are rarely heard, even though the emotions in their words are often felt. Why?
Time, idiots, and other stupid reasons.
"Love can be complicated, too often mistranslated. One word for all dynamics leads to problematics. Emotions and affections, feelings in all directions. Sometimes a simple action creates satisfaction..."
Have you heard that part of the song? You wouldn't unless you heard it on the radio or the album. The commercial only used the chorus. That's how it is with songs sometimes- you pick out the parts you like and disregard the others. Occasionally you may even lash out at the singer for even including those others. But to them, all the words, all the notes, are important. Ask anyone who creates- any engineer, any artist, any writer. They'll tell you they're proud of every little piece they put into their final product. Every single little step they take on their journey is one they cherish, whatever its benefits. The witnesses to their creation, they believe, should also be willing to appreciate every step.
But of course we're not. We pick and choose. We take the parts of the picture that make sense to us and we interpret them how we will. Some we remember and praise, others we mock and then seem to forget. The girl who sings this song got a lot of bad reviews when her album came out. It sold a lot of copies, but the critics hated it. However, she still kept her career despite their opinion. She did not let them boo her offstage. For every critic, she knew, there were a lot of other people who loved her. They told her so in letters, in interviews, and of course every time they listened to her sing.
"And as long as you are mine, I will take the time ... to let you know what I feel, cause ... All I need ... is everything you are.
And if you ever fall, I'll be here ... Standing in the shadow of my heart..."
Her name is Lindsay Pagano. She's a nice-looking little thing.
Long black hair, Italian-Jewish descent, dark eyes that frequently have a knowing look in them. She's small and young, but you can tell she has experience. She has great wisdom in her- it's evident in everything she does. The girl's just twenty years old, and she's already successful. They didn't just use her hit song in a commercial. It also made it onto the soundtrack of a popular movie and became the theme of a short-lived TV show. Paul
McCartney himself sang with Lindsay on the album. She's also worked with a lot of other industry professionals, all of whom appreciate her. Everything she puts out is full of her own personal style, soul, and attitude. I may not have remembered her music that much until recently, but now I know I love it all.
Other people don't love it. She's gotten bad reviews, like I said. There have also been lame emails, stupid parody songs, and other disappointing bits of so-called fan mail. I know because she told me. We've talked quite a bit in the past couple weeks.
"Cherish his love for chatter, mind games over matter ... I'm not looking for suggestions. More answers- with questions!"
My name is Nick Shang. I'm a roadie, specfically a light and sound engineer. I work for musicians in Austin, Texas, a city that is often called the Live Music Capital of the World. I do most of my work here at Antone's, one of the city's best nightclubs. It was the breakout arena for many great stars, including Stevie Ray Vaughn, the Fabulous Thunderbirds, and Guy
Forsyth. Numerous rock and blues legends have played here, everybody from old favorites like BB King and Muddy Waters to newer talents like Del Castillo and Wide Awake. Every time a famous musician comes to Austin, they usually end up visiting this place. They are always welcomed, and many are blessed.
Clifford Antone, the man who built this club, died earlier this year, but his legacy lives on. As do the musicians he's helped.
One of them, Lindsay, is here performing at his club tonight.
There are many fans of hers in the audience, and those who aren't her fans are probably becoming so rapidly. If not, well, at least most of them seem to be sticking around for the show they paid for. And they seem pretty enthusiastic too. Some seem to have been enjoying the performance, though with most I can't tell. But one thing is evident. They're all paying attention, eager for what comes next.
"There's nothing you could ever say, boy, to make me wanna walk away. And as long as you are mine, I will remind..."
I take that back. Maybe they're not really full of anticipation.
Perhaps they're impatient for this to be over with. I think about all the possible reactions as I shake my head and crack my knuckles. I've had to do this several times throughout the concert. The routine of flashes and noise I'm doing is complicated. It requires a lot of attention and on-the-spot innovation. Lindsay wanted something that would get the public's interest, yet was in keeping with the low-key image she likes to project. I was glad to help her, I've given similar assistance to a lot of musicians during my career.
What, you want to know more about me? Ok, let's see. I'm twenty-three, Asian-American, well-built. I'm told I'm good-looking. Fill in the rest of the picture however you like.
The important thing is that I'm well-versed in my craft. I studied the science of special effects at UT-Austin and I've been practicing my art since I was a kid. Just like Lindsay, I may seem young, but I've really been in this business a while. I am not an amateur.
She isn't either, I think to myself as she finishes her song and bows for the crowd before starting the next one. They clap for her, and for me too, I hope. I've been doing quite a bit of work for Lindsay this night. Every flash of light on the stage, every sound from her voice, it's all been thanks to me that the audience has heard it. I set up her speakers, her lights, her background noise. The keyboard I've been playing broadcasts her tunes. Yes, this is her concert, it's her that brought them here.
But me, I'm the one who's making things happen. The audience just doesn't know it, or if they do, they're ignoring me, concentrating on her. It always happens. I sometimes wish...
"Romeo, lay down your ego..."
Thanks, Lindsay. Good reminder. It's not all about me. This is about you. The crowd knows that, and so should I. I'm just a little symbiote, a necessary part of the magic you're making. I didn't create the magic alone. You laid it all out with me before the show got started. Now I'm helping you bring it forth. And just like you, I love my job.
An hour or so later, the concert's over. The crowd has clapped and cheered, then most have gotten up and left. A few have stayed behind, and Lindsay's been signing autographs for them. I've been watching as I nurse my drink at the bar. Right now she's speaking with a dedicated fan who's telling her how much he loved the album she put out all those years ago. He still listens to it often, he says, and thinks fondly of its songs and of her.
Lindsay smiles, gives him a hug, and tells him she'll have more music out one day soon. She's still weaving tunes and delighting most who listen. The few who dare to speak out negatively don't get her down, nor do the many who seem to ignore her siren's call.
"Nick! Hey Nick!"
I turn and see her standing beside me. "Lindsay. Can't take my eyes off you for a minute."
She beams, returning my grin. "Thanks for the show. You did a great job."
"You too." I salute her with my glass.
"What you drinking?" she asks.
"Vodka and tonic." I take a sip. "You're a little young for it."
"In this state, yeah," Lindsay sighs. She gestures at the bartender on duty tonight. "You have any carbonated water?" He nods and puts some down. I glance back at the fan she was talking with, see him give me a thumbs-up before he walks away. Thanks, I think in his direction, raising my glass in a toast. Nice to be appreciated.
"That was a local writer," Lindsay says. "He said he was anyway.
I'm not sure I've ever heard his name before tonight."
She speaks the name and I frown, finding it somewhat familiar but not easily placed. I shrug. "There's a lot of writers in
Austin."
"A lot of strange people too," she agrees. "I like it, though."
I nod. "So do I."
"Well, of course. You grew up here."
I smile, glad she remembered. We've become fast friends, Lindsay and me. She's only been in Austin two weeks, but the concert she just finished took a lot of setting up. We got to know each other during the preparations. She likes me, I sometimes think. I flirt with Lindsay as much as I do with any young pretty girl, and she always smiles and laughs. Never once have I had to assure her to calm down, remind her I don't really mean it. Or do I mean it? In my fantasies, maybe, I chuckle to myself.
She returns my smile, then sits down next to me. "I was thinking about my next album."
I recall that album's the reason Lindsay's in town. Her fans have been clamoring for the release almost two years, but she hasn't had much time to work on it with college and everything else in her life. Lindsay's talent is important to her, but it's not the only thing that is. She has to find a way to settle herself to exercise her talent. That's why she left home and decided to spend most of the summer in a place that has nurtured many musicians. She's been working on her next album a lot recently, and she thinks it's really starting to flow. "Have you decided on the title yet?"
"No," Lindsay says. "But I'll have something soon. The rhythm is more important to me."
"Yeah," I laugh. "You vary it so much people sometimes have difficulty keeping up."
She smirks. "You did well enough." She takes a sip, then regards me with her eyes. "You know, I have a few more concerts while I'm in town."
"Right. Cliffy set them up before he died."
Lindsay nods. "I wish he could have been here to see them. He was good to a lot of musicians."
"Truly a patron saint of the blues."
"Yeah," she agrees. "And so many didn't even know who he was until after his death."
"That's true of a lot of folk who help stars shine," I say.
"People approach to look at the stars, and rarely they regard their supporting players."
"But the supporting players are always there."
"Yeah."
We stare at each other for a moment, then look away. For a second her expression troubles me. No, I tell myself, we're kidding acquaintances, nothing more. She did not just give me the eye.
"Nick?"
I turn back to her. "Yeah?"
"I want to hire you. These concerts are going to take a lot of choreographing, so is my album. You did good tonight."
"I always try to create the best show I can."
"I know. And you did it all by yourself."
Not entirely true, actually. I had helpers assisting me with the setup before and the takedown after. A supervisor was watching my every move too. Someone always is.
"I'm thinking we should work together again," Lindsay says. "I could use a good light and sound man."
"Don't you have a couple of your own?"
"No," she replies, grimacing. "When you don't put out an album in several years, and the one you did generate didn't get the best reviews, people start to desert you."
"They start to think of you as a one hit wonder."
"Yeah." She tosses back her drink and sets down the cup. "But you know what? I'm still here, making music. I have a lot of talent, and I'm not forsaking it."
"Good." My heart echoes her fervor.
"And I'm thinking this album will be just as great as my first one. I tried out one of the songs tonight, and they liked it."
"I did too."
"It's not the only song that's close to being ready. I have the words written out for most of the others. I just need to find the proper pitch." She takes another sip, then looks at me. "I was hoping you could help me with that. You've compiled albums for a few people."
"Not many. Most of my work has been at concerts." I sip my drink. "And I'm afraid I'm booked up for quite a while. I'd love to work with you again, but..."
"Surely there must be some way for you to find time."
She smiles as she says this, and I feel myself searching for one. No, I shake my head, not a good idea. My business is too important to reschedule. "I really can't see a way," I tell her with a sigh. "Albums take a lot of work. I don't have time for one right now. As for the concerts, well, I'm not on staff at the places they're at."
"Don't worry about it," Lindsay grins. "I tell them I want you, and you're in. They always listen to the star."
"True," I chuckle. She has that right. I mentally go over my schedule again. "I think I might could fit the concerts in. The album, though ... I'm sorry, I can't do it." Seeing her crestfallen look, I add a tease. "Not even if you slept with me."
"You want to sleep with me?" She looks me up and down, then smiles again. I feel my voice catch all of a sudden, and try to recover.
"I was joking, Lindsay."
"I wasn't."
I stare at her, images flashing in my mind. Do I want this? Can it happen? And should it? No. I have to stop this now.
"That really won't be necessary," I say, again with the joking tone in my voice.
"And what if it were offered?" she replies. "I'm not innocent, you know."
"I know. I just..." I stop, not knowing what to say. We're friends, we have a business relationship, I'm not sure it should go farther. All this comes into my mind, but I can't get it out.
"It'd probably just be a one night stand," Lindsay says. "If that would make you feel better."
A one night stand, I think. I find myself relaxing a little.
I've had quite a few one night stands in my time. I've forgotten a lot of them. This one, I think, would definitely be one to remember if I had it. Now that it seems easier, I consider the idea.
"We'd stay friends, right? No matter what happens?"
She nods. "Hopefully. And if not, I can always dedicate a song to you. I did that on my first album with a few guys I've known."
That explains a lot, I think, recalling some of the lyrics.
"And of course you'd get paid the usual amount too. It would just be additional compensation."
Is that all I am to you? I almost ask her. Then I look at her eyes and see that it's not true. Damn, I think to myself. Does she really know what she's asking here? "Are you sure about this?" I ask her. By now I think I like the idea, but...
Again she looks me over intently, then smirks. "Yes. I like you.
I know you won't hurt me if things go wrong."
I feel a weight lift off my shoulders. "Well..."
We talked at the bar for another hour or so. By the time we were done, I was ready to rearrange my schedule. Part of me still thought I was taking a bad risk, but the majority was ruling otherwise. Lindsay had made things easier when she agreed to give me a one night stand, album or no album. She liked me enough, she said. I found I felt the same way and wasn't surprised. So much easier to let go your guards when you find out you have an attraction in common with a friend.
For a while I took the tack that I wasn't the right person for the album she had in mind. She quashed that idea quickly. "You're the nicest guy I've met in this town. And you're a professional."
I was happy for her praise, but with the contract between us...
Trisha
- 17.09.2020
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