This is Part 3 of Vix's story. Best if you read parts 1 & 2 before this. Otherwise, you won't know the background.
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Learning licks with Jemma was a real eye-opener for me. She knew such a lot of guitar stuff, and her knowledge was expansive, ranging from jazz, through punk rock, and prog rock, to classical, and from the 1920s right up to the very latest stuff. Amazing for someone only a year older than me.
It was sobering for me, as I realised how complacent I was. I'd been born with all the advantages; parents both successful musicians, and thus immersed in music from an early age, with instruments available as if by magic. Mum was a great singer and pianist, and Dad a more than handy guitarist, so naturally I sang, and became proficient in both those instruments, but I didn't venture far beyond the genres of the music my parents were involved in. My only departure was learning clarinet and sax, because I liked the sound of them.
Jemma, by contrast, was not born into a rich family. Her mum was a single parent, struggling to make ends meet as a music teacher, and Jem had only a very distant memory of her dad, who left when she was very young.
From an early age, she'd had a fascination for the guitar though, ever since she heard a busker playing acoustic blues on the street when she was, in her words, 'just a nipper, holding Mum's hand on a shopping trip.' She started off playing an old acoustic that her mum had in the house for use in lessons, and quickly showed she had talent.
She got her first guitar the very next Christmas, but only got her first electric when she met Joanne Shaw Taylor at an Annie Lennox concert when she was 12. A contact of her mum had arranged a backstage visit and the precocious Jemma pestered Shaw Taylor to teach her to play her single "White Sugar." Joanne was so impressed, she gifted her the guitar, an old Les Paul, there and then.
She wasn't just talented at playing the instrument though. She also soaked up absolutely everything she could about the history of it, and explored a vast spectrum of genres. I think she's some kind of prodigy really, and she sometimes makes me feel like a bit of a duffer. We hit it off as soon as we met though, and we have become fast friends. I find there's a magnetism to her. Not a sexual magnetism, more of a cerebral one. A meeting of like minds maybe.
How to describe Jemma? She's quite tall -- maybe 170cm -- and very skinny, even compared to me. She has a mop of dense blonde (though not naturally blonde) hair, in a shaggy bob, with a heavy fringe, and her face is pretty, though slightly gaunt. She has a penchant for wearing extremely baggy trousers and vest tops, which only accentuates her spare frame. There's an irresistible energy to her.
Although she's definitely a better guitarist than me, we play off each other very well and we have fun. There's a nice contrast between us, both in style and our instruments. I'm in love with my Fender Strat, while Jemma is a confirmed Gibson girl. I thought this contrast boded well for the band.
We were in the studio, playing about, because Jemma's an eager beaver and had arrived a hour early for our Saturday rehearsal/jam session. I expected the others to arrive at the appointed midday, but I'd told Roo half past, so I could introduce her to the others when they were all there. They knew she was coming, but I thought building up the anticipation would be good. The only thing that could prevent our band being complete was if there was a violent dislike or enmity between Roo and any of the others, and I didn't think that was likely.
Mads was next to arrive, looking very stylish, as she always does. She's even taller than Jemma, but not so skinny. A lot of women her height would avoid high heels, but not Mads. She strode in, carrying her guitar case, and wearing very nicely fitted jeans, ankle boots, with a chic cuban heel, and a leather jacket. Her hair is dark, thick, collar-length, and fiercely tousled, and she wears small rectangular glasses with a slight tint. Man, she was going to have some stage presence...
'Hey babes, started without me, have you?' she said in her honeyed tones.
We laughed. 'Yeh, we're just too eager.'
Besides being tall and rangy, and unutterably cool, Mads has a certain haughty poise about her. She seems much more mature than her 25 years. I was thinking, if she weren't straight I definitely would...
Five minutes later, Nikki arrived. She wasn't carrying her instrument because she had arranged to use the keyboards that Lindi keeps permanently at our house. Nikki is definitely a girly girl, and has her hair done differently every time I see her. This time it was a mass of golden corkscrew curls ('a lot of rollers went into that,' I thought). She was wearing short shorts with black tights under them, a pair of Converse trainers, and a low-cut stretchy top that showed off her boobs brilliantly.
At this point, I should explain that Nikki has one of those figures that has guys falling over themselves to get a closer look. Every curve seems to be exaggerated, yet she's not what you'd call "chubby." It's enviable really, but the funny thing is, I don't fancy her at all. Not even a bit. Her curves hold surprisingly little allure for me. It's not as if I don't like curves, but the chemical attraction is absent. Don't get me wrong, she's lovely, funny and a little ditsy, and I like her a lot, just not in a sexual way.
We spent a few minutes setting up, sorting out amps etc, then Mads said, 'So, where's this drummer you've promised us?'
'Oh, she'll be here, don't worry,' I said. I'd asked Mum to send me a text to my phone when she arrived, but to keep her in the house so I could go and bring her myself. I wanted to have the pleasure of introducing her.
Jemma mischievously launched into "The Waiting", a Natalie Imbruglia cover of a Tom Petty classic, and I pointed my finger at her and gave her an exaggeratedly stern look.
Ping ping. My phone told me she was here and I excused myself with a 'Just a sec.' I went through to the house and there she was, chatting to my mum in the hallway. She had no makeup on, and was wearing a black and white hooped top (very Alex Harvey) with a short leather bomber jacket and white jeans. On her feet were her favoured drumming shoes; black and white Puma Arizonas. She looked well cool, but I think she'd look like that to me whatever she wore.
We embraced, and kissed each other on the cheek. It wasn't sexual, but affectionate, and I noticed Mum smiling. It was great that I didn't have to hide my feelings for Roo from my mum. 'C'mon,' I said, 'the girls are waiting,' and I took her through to the studio.
Against one wall of the studio is a green velvet three-seater sofa. It's a place to sit, obviously, but Dad put it there mainly to improve the acoustics by making the room 'less resonant.' When Roo and I walked in, all three of them were sat there, side by side, like an assessment panel. 'Hey girls, this is Roo...'
'Hi Roo,' they chimed in unison, in a faintly comedic manner. We looked at each other, grinned, and shook our heads, while they giggled. It was a good, light-hearted start, obviously done deliberately for effect, but they all stood up and there were hugs all round. Obviously, there was a lot of curious eyeing each other up, and I noticed Mads, particularly, was checking Roo out thoroughly.
We sat down and talked about our backgrounds, musical preferences etc, and I was surprised that Roo and Jemma could almost match each other, talking about old obscure musicians from waaay back. Some of the names went right over the heads of Mads, Nikki and me, but it was quite fascinating to hear them discussing the relative merits of Gene Krupa and Buddy Rich, or Richie Blackmore and Jimmy Page.