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A-Side Intro
Dust and Tears
Paisley
May
I can’t believe I agreed to this.
As I stand in the Omni Theater’s wings, hidden behind a thick red velvet curtain, my heart pounds so loudly, I wonder if the microphone will pick it up like a drumbeat when I take the stage. It’s frenetic and fast, completely at odds with the set list I’ve put together for my first attempt at performing in front of a crowd of strangers. The auditorium—filled with the quiet din of restless bodies—has a maximum capacity of five hundred people, and I doubt all the seats are full, but still…that number is daunting.
Don’t lock your knees.
I shift my weight, but it doesn’t stop me from feeling light-headed.
“Deep breaths,” I murmur. But my lungs are tight. My chest burns. I can only imagine how wide and wild my dark brown eyes look, my gaze bouncing all over the backstage area like I expect monsters and ghouls to jump out at me from the shadows.
Performance anxiety is the absolute worst.
Clint Davis, the stage manager, saunters in from the hallway that leads to the greenrooms and gives me an encouraging grin as if he can’t see the abject terror written across my face. Dressed in all black, from the brim of his cowboy hat to the tips of his scuffed leather boots, he practically blends into the walls, and it makes me wish I hadn’t opted to wear the look-at-me bright green shirt Mom said would “really set off the auburn highlights” in my hair.
I’ve known Clint for as long as I can remember. Probably as long as I’ve known how to talk. And while it’s nice to have a friendly face back here, it’s not doing much for my rapidly rising blood pressure. Clint’s a popular session musician at the Hideaway at Hidden Acres Christmas Tree Farm, my family’s business, where he’s often found playing his steel guitar or a Dobro for the bluegrass and blues musicians who record at the studio.
Gosh, if only I were at the Hideaway right now.
Maybe I can make a break for it?
Clint must sense my fight-or-flight instincts kicking in. He shuffles closer and whispers, “You’ve got this, Paisley,” in his low, raspy voice.
I wish I had an ounce of his confidence and a hefty helping of his musicianship.
Heck, I’d settle for even the merest hint of confidence.
The knot in my stomach cinches tighter.
Unlike Clint, who is completely at ease with any sized audience (he was once a sideman for a show at Madison Square Garden), I’m most comfortable writing songs or messing around at the soundboard in the studio. I don’t mind playing music with friends and family, or having a low-key jam session with the studio musicians, but the whole thought of standing on a stage, all by my lonesome, in front of an audience of strangers makes me shudder.
My teeth chatter and I force myself to loosen my jaw. If I don’t figure out how to release some of this pent-up tension soon, I’m going to sound pitchy.
On the wall behind Clint is the poster for Ballad FM’s May Music Showcase. It’s difficult to make out in the dark, but I practically have it seared into my memory. Most of the space is taken up by an artfully grainy photo of the members of Six String Justice, a Nashville country-rock band with a rebel image and a new hit single.
One night only!
Below it, in a smaller font:
With local guests
Chet Bryant, Bluegrass Banjo
&
Paisley Morgan, Singer-Songwriter
I glance down at my left wrist, which is covered in beaded bracelets filled with inspirational song titles and meaningful acronyms. Little personal messages to help me focus and spark creativity.
My gaze lands on WWCKD. I allow myself a moment to wonder: What would Carole King do?
I close my eyes and her song “Beautiful” comes to mind.
