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.
