Miami flipped Joe off, but then he smiled. He had a good sense of humor when he wasn’t being full of himself, and Jinx had a way of keeping him down to earth. I genuinely liked all these guys. Hopefully, Pierce would fit in, too. But I was willing to force that peg into the square hole if it meant stepping out of that front spot.
While we waited, Joe and I worked on the song I had, scratching out a few more lyrics and a riff. It was a good start.
Fast cars, wet dreams
Nothing is as it seems
Alcohol -- pour on the fuel
Blind destruction -- that’s the rule
“Feels like the chorus. It’s catchy and quick.” Joe picked out the riff again.
“Agreed.”
Then Pierce burst into the room and the laid-back dynamic changed. “What’s up, losers!”
“Ahh…fuck off.” Joe gave him the bird to go along with that.
Pierce cackled. “I have a song for us.” He dropped a notebook on top of mine between us. I barely made out the words; they were long and rambling, something that seemed a little political, maybe. A part of it said,control, citizens, election, vote, andmaybe that wasdownorclown? But at about three-quarters of the page, there was a more spaced-out stanza that read better.
You’re keeping us down boot on the throat
Kicked around your scapegoat
What will it take to stand up to say no—no more
What are we fighting for
No more
“I like this bit.” I tapped the page.
“That’s the chorus.”
Joe turned the page and angled it to get a better view. “Can’t make out most of this stuff.”
“So what? I know what it says. Let’s practice it.” He grabbed the book and trotted off. “Come on, guys.”
Pierce grabbed an old acoustic guitar that was hanging on the wall in the back of the sound room and started tuning. “Can I play this one?” he asked anyone who might be listening.
Wolf’s voice came over the speaker. “Sure, man. Do your thing.”
Then Pierce played a bit and sang. The words were complicated, and he kept stopping and backing up to get them right. That wasn’t unusual, but I wasn’t loving it.
“Seems political, do we want to go that way?”
Pierce huffed, “Thought I’d have open minds here to work with. Wolf said I should bring my stuff.”
“Sure. We want to see this, but we all have input. You have input in what we bring too. I’ll show you what I have after we talk about this one.” I hoped he’d get with the process. I did want his take on things, but I also wanted him to be open to our opinions. “What’re you calling it?”
“Scapegoat.”
“Alright. Go through the first verse again.” I strapped my Gibson over my head and watched his fingers, listening to his riff, rather than the words. It didn’t take long to pick it up, since I’d learned to play by ear in the first place.
Joe was nodding his head but then stopped us. “Wait. Wait. This is a little disjointed. Can we maybe streamline some of the lyrics?”
Pierce looked at his book again and bit his lower lip. “Well, it’s not like you have to sing it.”
