Circle of Friends Part 5

 Part 5

We could be in our own bodies when we wanted to now. If we flowed in, we were less likely to trade when we slept. With all of us so deep into each other all the time, it was mainly convention by then, something we did to fit into the world outside and keep it from guessing our secret, but it gave us a little more stability for some activities. Lynne's fingers knew her guitar best, though all of us had string-calluses on our left hands by now from her determined practicing. For that matter, all of us could at least play bar chords now, even if the rest of us had nowhere near her speed and dexterity; somehow the skills we were individually learning were spreading across the link, perhaps from our constant casual swapping.

Dave had been nearly tone-deaf before. Now, hearing through others' ears when his voice wandered, he learned to keep himself on pitch. After a week or two, he tried taping it. Surprise, now he could do it when no one else was within hearing. That pleased him no end; he had always enjoyed singing, but hated being told to shut up when he could only add sour notes.

With our link, we could gently sing unison, which came out as a spooky kind of whisper, we were so tightly in sync together. Our six-part harmonies were glorious -- still with that extra-tight synchrony of syllables and rhythms, but in wide chords.

Lynne made up a round that we all liked, and we all helped with the words, so it was all of ours, really, and it felt like it. We'd start it off softly with the lighting of the altar candle, barely whispering but in sync, then gradually get louder as each corner candle was lit. We'd be singing full voice by the time the circle was brought up.

That song was powerful. When we sang that song, we would bring up a glow that we all could see. Our auras would get really bright around all our edges when we felt when it was, not only all on pitch, but practically in phase. Our music was leading us into some real power, and we were happily following it, equally pleased with the magic and the music.

Steph had had some piano lessons. With a little help from a spare-change collection, she bought a used synthesizer. Dave hooked it into the stereo system for her, and then we had more than just Lynne's guitar to back us up.

We needed more rhythm, though, so Tiff bought a tambourine. She and Mike took turns with it. She'd be wearing Joe (my body) when she played it, since she liked having strong arm muscles for playing it, and for some reason I liked singing female better, so I usually wore her body when we sang.

At one point we rented a minivan and drove up to Salem. The event was good, but the ride was better. We all came away impressed by the freedom that went with having a vehicle that would fit us all, and the unanimous verdict was, "We should get one of these."

Looking around, we eventually found a used Caravan in good shape, and, with my parents cosigning for the loan, we bought it. Now, between the back storage inside and the luggage rack outside, we had a way of carrying ourselves and our instruments, and we started thinking of adding a few drums to the collection of instruments.

I had picked up a bass guitar, one I could play with Tiff's hands, and a small amp to go with it. Lynne had a new 12-string, and we two put in some serious practice, swapping the three stringed instruments around to see what felt better on what songs. The two of us rounded out the sound then, finding ways of putting a chunky bottom under the songs where required, and driving the song forward where that was needed.

Lynne was talking about getting an electric, but we all knew that that would put our sound too far into rock territory, losing the openness we had worked so hard to build and perfect. I could just about handle the 12-string in Tiff's body, I'd worked up her hand musculature that much, but no one else wanted to handle any of the guitars, and we needed a six-string acoustic in the mix to keep our sound open the way we liked it. Lynne got the electric anyway, just because, but there was no room for it in our sound, not yet.

Even with that limitation, we started feeling pretty good about what we were doing musically. What had started as a way to convince the magic to come when we called had become something we could use to make another kind of magic, the magic of new ideas in song. Now we were starting to feel like we were ready to let others hear it.

One of the places that we'd taken to visiting regularly had music on the weekends, but when we wandered in there on a Tuesday there was nothing scheduled. After talking with the manager, we got up on the stage and performed one of our better songs, using a borrowed guitar and a borrowed tambourine. The sparse audience was appreciative, so we came back in two weeks, fully equipped.

The place was a lot more crowded this time; apparently word had gotten around, just from that one song. The talking stopped when we started singing, and stayed stopped until we took a break. We wowed them, or at least we thought so. We did a couple of sets, filling an otherwise nonmusical weekday night event with our songs, and then we got down and started packing so we could get back to town at a decent hour for school the next day.

Continues in part 6