Lightning Bugs and Spring Storms
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Lightning In A BottleChapter 41: Enlightenment free porn video
August 7, 1983
This morning, I slept in fairly late; a typical Sunday morning, but different from most in the sense that we didn't have a show later. At about eleven-thirty, I was puttering around the apartment, while Dennis was lounging out in front of the TV, watching something on ESPN. The phone rang, and I answered it.
"Hey dude," Dave told me in an excited voice, "get your ass down to the store, and pick up today's Star-Ledger."
"Why?" I asked him, intensely curious.
"Don't ask. Just go."
As I made a move to go, Dennis asked me what was going on.
"I have no fucking idea," I said with a laugh. "Dave's telling me to drop what I'm doing, and go and buy the newspaper."
So, I bought the paper, and scanned through it while waiting in the checkout line. I found nothing out of the ordinary until I got to the Sunday entertainment section.
That's when I saw the article. The title was: New cover band breaks into beach club scene. In the first line of the article, I saw the words "Lightning in a Bottle", and I nearly dropped the newspaper onto the floor.
The cashier was already asking for my money. I paid for the paper, and read the entire article before even leaving the store. To my further delight, it was highly complimentary. It started off with a brief intro, and then listed all six of us by name, as well as our roles in the band. We were described as "five current Rutgers University students, all close friends, as well as one incoming Rutgers freshman." What followed was a short history of our band, given in the form of a direct quote from ... Inez.
"I wasn't around in the very beginning," Inez had told the reporter. "Pat O'Malley was the one who first got the idea to start a band. Pat, Evie and Dave went to the same high school. They started to play together after school. During freshman year, they held auditions, and that's when I joined them, along with Paul. Eileen came along a little later. We had some instability for a while – people coming and going – but around the beginning of this year, the six of us re-committed ourselves, and we've really come together since then."
Yes, that last sentence was expressed very diplomatically.
The article then described our stylistic leanings and the individual talents of each of us. The reporter had asked Inez if she had any additional theories that might explain our appeal. She'd come up with a very interesting observation.
"The six of us are close friends, but we come from different backgrounds. Just look at us. All four major demographic groups are represented within the six of us ... Latino, Asian, black and white. Everyone out there has at least one of us who they can relate to."
The article had been written by a reporter named Roger Duncan. Have I just solved the Sea Breeze mystery? I wondered. I hoped fervently that I had. As happy as I was about the article, that concern held greater importance to me right now. I drove home as fast as I could, breaking the speed limit along the way, not to mention running a couple of stop signs. Once inside the apartment, I threw the open newspaper onto the table, and pointed at the article.
"Read this," I told Dennis, who was about to head over to Mayra's place. Then, I made a beeline for the phone.
"Careful, dude," Dennis laughed. "You're gonna break something." As he started to read the article, I placed a call.
"I just read the paper," I said to Inez as soon as she answered the phone.
"You did?" she said, feigning astonishment. "Find anything interesting?"
"Oh, there's this article about a certain band, where a certain someone is quoted quite frequently."
"Really? Your other bandmates are much quicker on the uptake than you are, Mr. O'Malley. All four of them saw it at least an hour ago," she told me with a giggle.
Then, she decided to spill the beans.
"I didn't tell any of you about this. I wanted to surprise all of you," she confessed.
"Well, it worked," I told her with a chuckle. "I can't tell you I saw that coming."
"I'll tell you the whole story," she promised, "but I want to go over to Mayra's place a little early. Evie's visiting her mom right now. Come over and pick me up? I'll tell you everything while we're in the car."
Again, I must have broken quite a few traffic regulations on the way over. Finally, with Inez beside me in the passenger seat, I got to hear her tale.
"The reporter came up to me Saturday night a week ago, right after our show at Sea Breeze," she began.
Confirmed! Was I happy about that? Oh, yes, I was.
"He showed me his press credentials, and told me he was working on a story about our band. I wanted to round up the rest of you, but he said he didn't have time. He only had a short while to do the interview. So it was just me. We actually did the interview in the bar. The people in the bar were reluctant to even allow me in there, since I'm not yet twenty-one, but they agreed to let me sit at the table with the guy, and have a soda. Pat, I have to admit, I was kind of embarrassed. I still had on the blue top and miniskirt I wore on stage. I wasn't comfortable sitting in the bar with this guy while wearing those clothes. Luckily, I had a sweater with me. The interview lasted about fifteen minutes, and you've already read my responses. Now tell me. Were you surprised to see that article?"
"Like I just said, you better believe it, I was surprised," I laughed. But not necessarily in the way you're thinking, I added to myself. Yes, I felt like a total putz. But I was a happy and relieved putz, which made being a putz more than acceptable.
"Pat, this Roger Duncan character," Inez went on, "he just might be the most boring person I've ever met. Talk about all work and no play. He never said one word to me that wasn't in the context of the interview. No small talk at all. He spoke in this dull monotone. And his breath smelled like stale cigarettes..." Her voice trailed off, and she regarded me with a gentle smirk. "Okay, Pat. Why are you grinning at me like that?"
"Maybe I'll tell you some day."
She flashed that wonderful smile of hers, in all its glory.
"You're a very deep-thinking and complex guy, Patrick O'Malley," she told me. "And you know what? Don't ever change."
Later that day, during practice, the six of us finally got around to considering something that had never occurred up to that point. The seeds had been planted at the previous practice, back on Thursday.
During a short break that evening, we were lounging around, discussing this and that. The radio was playing, and a song that was just beginning to become popular right then, "Total Eclipse of the Heart", reverberated from the speakers.
Paul, who had a good ear when it came to this sort of thing, spoke up. "Inez, you could sing the hell out of that song."
Inez, not all that familiar with the tune at this point, listened for a little bit, and then nodded in agreement. "My voice is nothing like Bonnie Tyler's, though."
"And believe me, that's a good thing," I said with a laugh. "But I agree with Paul."
Of course, I knew that particular song was on the verge of being played to death, until everyone was sick of it, and would continue to be overplayed throughout the years. However, I definitely wanted to hear what Inez could do with it. But right now, it was mostly unknown to the rest of the gang, which necessitated the purchase of a tape from the local music store. We passed the tape around over the next few days, to give each of us a chance to get familiar with the song. I, of course, had no need for the tape.
And on this Sunday evening, we gave it a try. Inez's rendition was hauntingly gorgeous, as I knew it would be. She could sing the phone book and make it sound beautiful. I handled the "turn around, bright eyes" backing vocal, which is a very prominent part of the song. In fact, in places, it's almost like a duet.
Once again, it was Paul who came up with another brainstorm, one which would set a whole series of events in motion.
"That was pretty damn good. That song isn't suitable for some of the venues we frequent, but somehow, it has to be a keeper. And there's one more thing. Pat and Inez, we need to find ways to get the two of you singing together more often."
All in attendance – including Dennis and Mayra, who were sitting on the sofa, taking all of this in – raised a clamor of endorsement at Paul's final point.
"Actually," Dave offered, in a tone of voice that suggested a wisecrack was coming, "I have the perfect song for you two... 'Paradise by the Dashboard Light'."
Everyone lost it, and the laughter didn't die down for a minute or more. A grinning but thoroughly embarrassed Inez picked up a loose couch pillow and hurled it at Dave, who ducked just in time to avoid it. "There's your 'Paradise by the Dashboard Light', Mancuso," she said with an evil laugh.
When everyone regained their composure, a more serious discussion ensued, one focused on finding an appropriate song.
"Preferably one that won't highlight the fact that Inez is twice the singer that I am," I threw in.
"You're selling yourself short, Pat," Inez countered right away. "Don't think about which one of us is better, anyway. Think about it as singing with me."
She'd put it in perspective, hadn't she? "Well, when you put it like that, Inez," I said with a smile.
It was Mayra, of all people, who came forward with a suggestion. She mentioned a song that was a favorite of hers.
"Just try it. It will be perfect!" she exclaimed.
"I know that song a little," said Dave, sounding somewhat doubtful. "Isn't it kind of mellow for our style?"
"Maybe not," Evie countered. "We've got a few weddings coming up on our event calendar, and we need to have a few songs like that available."
I looked over at Inez with curiosity. "How well do you know that song?"
"I know it pretty well, actually. Mayra plays it all the time."
"I'll have to borrow her tape, then," I said, nodding in Mayra's direction, "because I don't know it all that well. But I'm willing to give it a try."
Mayra ran upstairs, and quickly returned with the tape. By then, all six of us were in agreement that we'd give it a shot. It would have to wait until the next day, however. I needed to familiarize myself with the song.
"This is gonna be amazing!" Mayra squealed, obviously thrilled that we'd accepted a suggestion of hers.
That night, alone in my room with the door closed, I listened to the tune in question. And I listened to it a second time, and then a third.
The tune was "Suddenly", a duet by Olivia Newton-John and Cliff Richard, from the soundtrack of the forgettable movie Xanadu. As I played the song over and over again, I slowly came to the realization that the lyrics moved me in a very personal way. Why was that? Upon further listening, it became more and more apparent. The words tapped into something within me that Evie had definitely spotted, and perhaps the others as well. Something I was still in denial about. But as I continued to listen to this piece of music, and marveled at its pertinence to the feelings which were clamoring to be set free from my subconscious, I could actually feel that denial loosening its grip upon me.
I liked the lyrics so much, that I took out my journal, and wrote them out on paper.
August 8, 1983
We all reconvened for practice almost exactly twenty-four hours later. Mayra and Dennis were in attendance again, as was Lisette, the younger Andrade sister. Lisette was becoming a frequent spectator at our practices; she was now fourteen years old, and was starting to really get into watching us play.
It was Lisette who first voiced what was surely on everyone's mind.
"I wanna see you guys do 'Suddenly'!" Ah, the impatience of youth.
I directed a reply to both Lisette and Mayra. "It looks like the two sisters in the room have been sharing notes."
I took a microphone in hand. For this song, I of course wanted Eileen to take my place on the keyboard. Inez, however, surprised me by putting down her guitar, and picking up another microphone. We'd do this song in a rather stark arrangement, backed up mostly by Eileen, with Inez and me doing nothing else but singing. But for practice, it was more than sufficient.
Inez walked over and took her position, about five feet away, turning to face me. The first lines of the song were mine. Facing Inez as well, I waited for Eileen to complete the intro, and then commenced with my vocal part. As the words began to spill forth, I quickly realized that I was doing much more than singing. I was opening up my heart.
She ... walks in ... and I'm ... suddenly a hero...
I'm taken in ... my hopes begin to rise...
As soon as I got out the word "hero", a dreamy, rapturous smile spread across Inez's beautiful face. I realized that she, like me, had just flashed back to that phone conversation we'd had a few months before, with her still in Florida tending to her recuperating parents, and me beginning the long process of recovering from a broken heart. The next couple of lines went to Inez, who delivered them in lovely fashion with her incomparable set of pipes. Her tone contained a perceptible element of pleading.
Look ... at me ... can't you tell ... I'd be so thrilled...
to see ... the message in your eyes...
The word "thrilled" flowed out with a slight lilt, a slight tremor. By now, I had been carried away to another plane, overpowered by a sense of awakening. Although we had a captive audience, no longer was I performing; I was singing solely to Inez. Fully lost in the moment, it was my turn again.
You make it seem I'm so close to my dream...
And then suddenly it's all there...
We came together for the chorus, singing in harmony.
Suddenly ... the wheels are in motion...
And I, I'm ... ready to sail any ocean...
Suddenly ... I don't need the answers...
'Cause I, I'm ... ready to take all my chances with you...
Although I wasn't very aware of it, entranced as I was with my partner, the distance between us had narrowed to maybe three feet. My eyes were locked with hers; those lush, expressive, dusky eyes that had lifted my spirits so many times in the recent past. Everything around me could have vanished, and I'd have been none the wiser. We continued onward, with me starting off the second verse.
How can I feel you're all that matters...
I'd rely on anything you say...
Inez handled the next segment; a particularly poignant couple of lines. When she sang the second line, a look of infinite tenderness combined with a touch of yearning swept across her face.
I'll take care that no illusions shatter...
If you dare to say what you should say...
The next two lines were mine, the same lead-in to the chorus, where she and I came together once again.
You make it seem I'm so close to my dream...
And then suddenly it's all there...
Suddenly ... the wheels are in motion...
And I, I'm ... ready to sail any ocean...
Suddenly ... I don't need the answers...
'Cause I, I'm ... ready to take all my chances with you...
Next came the bridge portion of the song. The first two lines, once again, belonged to me, and I delivered them with as much feeling and passion as I could exude. Almost without my realizing it, I strove to communicate assurance ... not just for her, but for myself as well.
Why ... do I feel ... so alive ... when you're near...
There's no way ... any hurt ... can get through...
This time, Inez took the lead-in to the chorus, which brought us together vocally one final time.
Longing to spend ... every moment of the day ... with you...
Suddenly ... the wheels are in motion...
And I, I'm ... ready to sail any ocean...
Suddenly ... I don't need the answers...
'Cause I, I'm ... ready to take all my chances with you...
As we drew out the final "you" and then let it go, we were now standing a foot or less from each other. Appearing to be somewhat embarrassed at the degree to which she'd opened herself up, Inez averted her eyes, took a half step backwards, and partially turned away. She self-consciously brushed away an errant lock of hair from her face, while still remaining close enough to touch. This display of vulnerability moved me beyond words. I might well have reached out to her, had not a burst of applause suddenly emanated from Lisette, Mayra, and Dennis, in appreciation of our performance. The clapping was quite well-intentioned, for sure, but it served to disrupt the romantic tension.
Out of the four other band members, only Eileen was able to offer up a verbal response.
"My my my," she said, fanning herself with her hand, "it just got a little warm in here, didn't it?"
Otherwise, silence reigned for a moment. Although no one else bothered to speak up, all faces on hand were sporting wide grins.
Then, I happened to glance over at Mayra and Lisette. Both of them had a fair amount of moisture in their eyes, so moved were they by what had just transpired. Mayra whispered something to Lisette, who then broke away and ran upstairs.
"She's telling our mom to come down," explained Mayra, who then practically begged us, "You have to do that song again. Please?"
We ended up doing a repeat for Señora Andrade, after taking a short break to collect ourselves. Although this one was surely technically superior to the initial rendition, it obviously lacked the spontaneous magic and the emotional wallop of the first time through. When we finished, a deeply affected Señora Andrade uttered several short phrases in Spanish, as she was unable to gush convincingly in English. Finally, she told Inez and me, in a most sincere tone, "Beautiful... beautiful."
August 9, 1983
The next evening at practice, I had another chance to sing with Inez; it was again a new addition to our song list, one that was much more in line with our typical fare. It wasn't a romantic love song. Quite the opposite, in fact. But it most definitely left an impression on all present.
The song was Fleetwood Mac's "The Chain", from Rumours, one of the hardest-hitting songs on a hard-hitting album. Paul was the first to suggest that one; he wanted to take a crack at the bass solo near the end. But after we'd run it through once, it seemed that no one wanted to talk about Paul's bass work, not even Paul himself.
This was exactly the type of raw, emotional tune that brought out the best in Inez. I'd convinced myself, however, not to give in to any feelings of inferiority. Instead, I just fed off of her energy. Upon watching Inez perform a song like this from an up close and personal vantage point, I realized one more thing about her. There was a particular quality that she had in spades, both onstage and off: passion. And it was that very quality which had been stripped away from her in the other timeline.
At song's end, it became apparent that our bandmates had been gobsmacked, once again.
Dave chimed in first. "Damn ... that was smokin'!"
"Well, I guess that one's a keeper," said a broadly smiling Eileen.
Paul was next. "The two of you gave off a real Buckingham-Nicks vibe right there."
Evie, who'd begun to assume a mother hen role within our band, took a slightly different tack. She offered feedback that was gentle yet instructive. "Pat and Inez ... you need to bring that same intensity when we do that one live."
August 12, 1983
At our show the following Friday night, we broke out "The Chain" in the middle of the first set. And in fact, Inez and I didn't bring the same intensity level. We actually took it up a notch.
She and I moved in close, and got up in each other's faces as we sang. At the conclusion of a song where we'd belted out lyrics like "Damn your love! Damn your lies!", I gave Inez a wink that told her, "Just kidding." And she graced me with a sweet smile in response.
During the intermission following the first set, I talked with Evie for a little bit; it had been more than a week since I'd been able to catch up with her. Right away, she brought up "Suddenly".
"I didn't say anything to you that night," Evie explained, "because if I had, I think I would have started to cry. But let's just say that it was one of the most moving things I've ever witnessed, and leave it at that." She hesitated for a minute, offering me the opportunity to add something. I let the chance go by in silence.
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