The Music

Steven sighed as he looked around his studio.  Everything was perfect.  Every cord was tucked away in its designated spot, every instrument finely tuned and ready to be used.  Steven had studied space efficiency and work place streamlining.  He was confident that he had the perfect place in which to work his craft.

            He knew it would not last however, and that soon Leonard would arrive.  Leonard, his freewheeling, care-free bass player.  He came in like a hurricane and disrupted his delicate balance.  Half eaten cheese burgers would liter the floor, and liter bottles of cola would be strewn upon the floor, their sticky contents slowly leaking onto the pristine carpet.  Steven was spending a fortune on carpet cleaner just to get the place back to normal.  Having Leonard in his house every week was a huge disruption to what Steven had made for himself.  And yet, Steven needed this unkempt, careless man.

                He was important to the music.  Before Leonard, the music Steven created was competent, but sterile.  Critics were surprised to find that a human had made it, and not a computer. He had been searching for a long time for something to make his music more relatable and real.  He stumbled upon it when he placed a craigslist ad looking for a new bass player.  When Leonard came to him, he had almost no bass skill, eschewing refinement for improvisation and wild lines.  His style clashed wildly with Steven’s reserved, but technically flawless skill.

                The result was something brand new, and entirely unexpected.  It was the sound that Steven had always wanted, but never knew how to get.  This was the reason he endured Leonard’s weekly assault on both his senses and his sensibilities.  The music was bigger than either of them.