From: v124jw4y@ubvmsb.cc.buffalo.edu (Benjamin R Pierce)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.havens-rest
Subject: Re: [Red Rain] Re: Intro: Malachi Armageddon
Summary: Read before you leap, people.
Date: 11 Dec 92 22:08:00 GMT
Organization: University at Buffalo
News-Software: VAX/VMS VNEWS 1.41

In article <1992Dec9.184533.16365@netcom.com>, metlay@netcom.com (metlay) writes...
>The intro of this guitar godling completely ignores the fact that for several
>hours game time, and several DAYS real time, Red Rain has been setting up on
>stage and talking with the various people in the Bar.
> 
>This is not good.

Ooops...apologies on that, I didn't see anything about another band in the 
articles available. (Looks chagrined)

>BUT since Mr. Pierce is from UB, and my wife would never let me go
>into the Mighty Taco on Hertel Avenue (worst tacos in the world, I
>LOVE 'em!) again if I ticked off a fellow Buffalonian, I'll do my best
>to retcon the action here, by assuming that Mas had ANOTHER band in
>mind, and that for some as yet mysterious reason Red Rain were NOT on
>the stage when the hot shot walked in. (I'm open to suggestions as to
>HOW.)


Uhmmm...they were on break?


>In article <Byz3xw.9s0@acsu.buffalo.edu> v124jw4y@ubvmsb.cc.buffalo.edu (Benjamin R Pierce) writes:
> 
>>Unslinging his guitar, a custom black, seven-string Supernova Banshee, the
>>man leapt up to the stage and hooked up to the sound system with the skill of
>>someone who had done it many times before.  Walking up to the mike, he said,
>>"Hi there, I'm Malachi Armageddon.  Let's jam."
>>
>>Without another word, he launched into a masterful medley of wild music, 
>>seeming to be a blend between sixties Earth music, tek-thrash, and something
>>else which no one in the bar could quite place.  His seven-fingered hands
>>danced across the strings, striking chords which the most skillful human
>>musician would have found impossible to duplicate.  His voice was the perfect
>>compliment to his playing, gliding smooth, then rocketing up to a screech, then
>>dropping down low, in perfect if somewhat funky harmony with the guitar.
> 
>"What the screaming blue F*CK is that racket?!" The door to the Ladies' Room
>burst open, and four women came running back into the bar to stare at the
>seven-fingered apparition leaping around like an idiot on the stage and
>coming dangerously close to knocking over THEIR gear and blowing out THEIR
>sound system. 
> 
>The song concluded with a bang, but before anyone could clap or shout,
>Ree held up a hand for silence. In the hush, the four women stepped up
>to four microphones, and the bar echoed with four unaccompanied voices
>singing the Manhattan Transfer's "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square."
>As the last note died away, the four women bowed and stepped off the
>stage, amidst peals of applause and cheers.
> 
>Wiping her face with a towel, Lita walked up to the bar and said, "We
>can't play every night, Mas, but you theenk you could see your way clear
>to hiring thees chollo--" She cocked a thumb at Malachi "-- for our off
>nights? He's not bad." She snorted. "For a GUITARIST."



Malachi ignored the obvious barb and looked at Lita.  "Damn fine
sound," he said after a minute.  "What the hell are a bunch of real
musicians doing in a place like this?"  He cracked a smile and said,
"Sorry about the misunderstanding...I thought the band had decided to
pull a no-show...apparently the good bartender was talking about a band
who're supposed to do a number tomorrow night for a private party." (ADMIN:
Anybody got an excuse to throw a private party tomorrow night?). "Anyhow,
sorry again about muscling in...that's not usually my style.  Especially
not with professionals.  One thing, though...about the guitarist crack?"

Before Lita can respond, Malachi draws a complex, alien-looking wind instrument
out of his bag and begins to play.  Now there is no sign of his earlier swagger
or strut, no flashy, high-energy beat...just pure, intricate music which is
slightly alien to the ear, but fascinatingly so.  Malachi plays for a couple of
minutes, then stops and gives Lita a half-smile.  "Just 'cause I can play guitar
doesn't make me a guitarist, sister," he says.  "Some of us appreciate real 
music, too...but this," he indicates his guitar, "is what pays the bills."
Quirking another half-smile, he takes his drink and retires to a secluded table,
where he begins tuning the strange instrument. 
Newsgroups: alt.pub.havens-rest