One Song

Two friends have a detailed discussion about music over Skype early in the morning

“What about you, though?” Taylor asked me, smiling at me through my computer screen. I held up my hand as I swallowed the last of my Cheez-Its.

“I don’t know. I mean, just imagine being able to scream like Courtney Love. I mean to have that power is amazing. Or Kurt Cobain or Dave Grohl. I mean, I have the quietest voice ever,” I exclaimed, thinking of the times I had hurt my voice trying to scream along with my iPod. And don’t even remind me of the pain my throat was in after the Foo Fighters concert I went to last summer.

“First of all, when did you start using last names? I thought they were ‘Courtney,’ ‘Kurt’ and ‘Dave,’” Taylor said, putting air quotes around each star's’ name. “Second of all, what song would you pick?” Taylor asked, rubbing his eyes. It was four in the morning, and we had started talking at ten last night. Our conversation had shifted to the hypothetical question of if we could be one famous musician for one song at their concert, who we would be and what song we would sing. Being me, I took this question very seriously, and from the way Taylor had smiled sneakily at me, he knew how hard I would think about it.

“I just wanted to make sure you knew who I was talking about,” I said, pretending to be offended. Taylor just rolled his eyes and then shook his head.

“Okay, but it’s weirding me out. Go back to the first name basis thing. So what song?” Taylor asked, a little impatiently.

“A really loud one, like for Courtney, ‘Pretty On The Inside’ or ‘Rock Star.’ For Kurt, ‘Scentless Apprentice,’ ‘Tourette’s,’ or ‘Negative Creep.’ For Dave, ‘Breakout’ or ‘Monkey Wrench.’ Oh! Or ‘White Limo,’” I said, naming a list of loud, scream-filled songs.

“So you would be a rock star. Is that your final answer?” Taylor pretended to put a microphone in my face.

“Oh! But maybe Bruno! I would love to be a teenage heartthrob for a minute. Or like Adam,” I said, referencing Bruno Mars and Adam Lambert, who are also some of my favorite musicians. What can I say? I have an eclectic taste in music. Taylor rolled his eyes for what was probably the tenth time during this conversation.

“It’s not even that serious. I chose mine in like a minute.”

“That’s because you’re a basic b***h,” I responded sassily, raising my eyebrows, pursing my lips and blinking rapidly.

“Hey! Whitney Houston is far from basic! She is the queen!”

“Yeah, I know. You have informed me. She is amazing, I’m not denying that. But you really don’t see how your answer of ‘I Will Always Love You’ is a little unoriginal?” I asked, tilting my head in a way that asked “really?”

Taylor looked down in fake sadness, then said, with the voice of a child, “I mean I guess.” We both laughed at his response, probably harder than we normally would, given our extreme lack of sleep.

“Well, I should go to bed now. I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” I said, yawning, then correcting myself, “I mean today.”

“Okay. I’ll talk to you then,” Taylor said, jokingly blowing a kiss to me through the screen.

“Bye, boo,” I responded, laughing, then turning off my computer. I have the best best friend in the world.

I pushed myself up off of the bed, dragging my tired body to the bathroom to finish getting ready to go to sleep. I had changed into pajamas right before I had gotten on Skype with Taylor six hours ago, but had snacked and needed to brush my teeth, or I would wake up with gross cheese breath. With my toothbrush in my mouth, I began to hum “Lucy” by Adam Lambert, and dance lackadaisically around the room, running into the wall, as my balance was not great. With great tiredness comes great falls. I tried to be as fierce as my idol, failing miserably. He looks fabulous, I look like a hot mess. He can strut in heels, and I can...if you can just give me one minute to catch up. He has vocals for days, I sound like a dying bird when I try to sing. But I wish I could sing like that. It would be amazing.

I turned on my air conditioner, and fell into bed, falling asleep minutes later.

*****

“I really love this album! I really do, but I have to sing some old songs too,” I say to the crowd, and they scream back in excitement. I breathe heavily from the exercise that is putting on a live show, and look back at Adam, my guitarist, as he starts the song. After the first strum of the guitar, the crowd recognizes the song, and screams. I sing into the mic, “Hey, slow it down, what do you want from me?” and I hear the crowd singing along. As I sing, I look into the faces of my fans, happy to see them smiling and having fun. I walk to the front of the stage and sing to the fans, touching their hands and reading their signs. Most wear shirts with my face on them. One holds a sign that reads “I love you, Adam!” which makes me smile. Another has a shirt that says “lol ur not adam lambert” which is ironic, since I am. But I like it. I reach out my heavily tattooed arm holding the mic to the crowd, signalling for them to sing. They sing back to me, and I bring the mic back to my mouth, singing a long, powerful note. After a few more riffs, I bring the sound back down, and finish the song. The crowd screams and claps, and I smile back at them.

*****

I wake up, smiling from my dream. I was Adam Lambert! Adam f*****g Lambert! I got to sing “Whatdya Want From Me,” and see the crowd go crazy. I wish it could really happen. At the very least, I wish I could see Adam live, but it hasn’t happened yet, unfortunately.

I have to tell Taylor about my dream! I pick up my computer from the floor, where I left it last night. I Skype Taylor and wait for him to pick up. The second I see his face, I say excitedly, “Taylor! You won’t believe the dream I had last night!”