The Wages, An Illustrated Story | 11. Masterstroke | Cloudy Toronto
My first single was pressed and the LP needed to follow on schedule.
Last night was Friday, but instead of a show, Crystal and I had crammed time in at the recording studio. We added some finishing overdubs to mixes before my album was sent for mastering.
We got home even later than we would have from our performances, and I had fallen in and out of sleep while a thunderstorm blew over. Then I took advantage of the soothing sounds of a rainy morning to try to learn how to sleep in like a proper musician.
When I wasn’t booked into cryptic studio hours I was playing every stage around the city that my management could grab. Babysitting and my shifts at Nougat Barn had become impractical and exhausting, and I had resigned both. I took advantage a being a loser who was still living with my parents while I turned 20, although their perpetual insolvency would have been a flimsy financial cushion if I had needed it.
I was surprised that with a proper booking manager and attention from a record label, I was playing so much that it made up for most of my previous contribution to the household income—even though minimum wage had been raised to $2.65. Sometimes I played a matinee and an evening concert at different places in the same day. It was way more work than having a job and I was still getting used to it all and awoke to an upset stomach.
I would have a little time for rest this afternoon, but we had a few loose ends in our live set, and Crystal and I had planned a mini-rehearsal together at 4PM to be at our best for the opening slot at a showcase at nine that evening.
When I got up and dragged myself to the kitchen, Crystal told me that Mama and Papa had already gone to spend their Saturday with some new friends.
I drank a cup of motivating coffee and ate a settling slice of plain toast, then headed out into a cloudy Saturday in Toronto to walk to a drugstore and buy antacid.