A play in one act

 

A music studio. Amplifiers line the back wall, framed records hang in the spaces between them, gold, platinum. A few electric guitars and basses bide on stands. (If possible, one of the basses should be a black-and-white Rickenbacker, and one of the guitars a white Gibson ES-355, or similar; other preferred instruments include a Steinberger bass, a Fender jazz bass, a Fender Stratocaster guitar, and a Hentor Sportscaster.) Upstage left is a freestanding coatrack on which a single winter coat hangs. Stage right, almost flush with the wing, is a large couch, three-quarters turned to the house. A coffee table directly in front of it holds a few magazines, empty mugs, drumsticks (at least two pairs), and an effects pedal or two. The space as a whole should appear lived-in but not messy, well-outfitted but not opulent.

The curtain rises on ANIKA. She sits on the couch listening to music on headphones, her feet on the coffee table. She is fortyish, wiry, her blond hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. She looks at her phone, taps and swipes a few times until, satisfied with the new musical selection, she starts to groove to the song. Then she takes her feet off the table, grabs a pair of drumsticks, and taps out a quick rhythm on her knees, evidently in response to something she hears, and then stops again, listening intensely, the sticks quiet.

ALEX and GEDDY enter, stage left. They are audible a few seconds before appearing, laughing about a remark one of them has made. They are “rather elderly men,” but carry themselves like they are much younger. Their dress is casual; their attire might be cobbled from recent photos. Sneakers are a must. ALEX sports a short, scruffy blond mop, GEDDY a receding black mane. Their laughter slowly subsides as they remove their coats and hang them on the rack. ALEX hangs his first and moves toward center stage, does not see GEDDY remove ANIKA’s coat from its hook and, after staring at it for a moment like something incomprehensible, brushes it gently with his free hand, and rehangs it on the hook opposite ALEX’s. He hangs his own coat on the now-free hook, beside ALEX’s.

The vibe of their entry should be a bit like parents coming into a teenager’s room; and during at least the early part of the ensuing dialogue ANIKA should regard them as something like favorite uncles, with a mixture of affection and wryness. The sticks she holds may be retained or put down at different moments as the actor sees fit. It is important, however, that ANIKA remain seated on the couch, while ALEX and GEDDY remain standing, circulating, but always stage left and center.

ALEX, goofily: Howdy squirt!

ANIKA holds up a finger.

ALEX, to Geddy, in a loud whisper: Admirable focus.

GEDDY, also in a loud whisper: What did I tell you? Shades of The Professor.

ALEX: A chip off the old block.

ANIKA removes her headphones.

GEDDY: She’s holding drumsticks!

 ALEX: Say, are you, like, a drummer or something?

ANIKA: You’re late.

GEDDY: Oh, I don’t think so. To Alex: Are we?

ALEX: Maybe a wee bit.

GEDDY: She’s punctual.

ALEX: Good at keeping time.

GEDDY, changing his tone, speaking to both Alex and Anika now; he rubs his hands together: Well, then. Let’s get down to business, shall we?

ALEX: The brass tacks.

GEDDY: The brass tacks! Like we mentioned last time we jammed together, we want to start building a setlist for our upcoming “50something” tour, and we want YOU, Anika, to help us pick the songs! Now, obviously it would be great if we could incorporate some of the material we’ve been jamming on for the last few weeks, but we also wouldn’t want you to feel …

ALEX: Limited.

GEDDY: … beholden. The point is to brainstorm together. Throw out ideas. Engage in a dialogue. Start sketching out what a possible set might look like. Alex?

ALEX: What he said.

GEDDY: Right, so … thoughts … suggestions …

ANIKA has raised her hand before GEDDY finishes talking. In fact, it has caused him to stumble over his last words. She waves her hand a little, like an overachieving student desperate to be recognized, but fully conscious of how she is presenting herself.

ALEX: It looks like Anika has a suggestion!

GEDDY: Yes, Anika!

ANIKA lowers her hand; after a long pause: “The Necromancer.”

ALEX and GEDDY eye each other. Another long pause.

ALEX: “The Necromancer.”

Vigorous nodding from ANIKA.

GEDDY: Um, okay, Wow. Quick laugh. Old school.

ALEX: Ancient. Antediluvian.

GEDDY: I mean, in that vein … why not “In the Mood”?

ALEX: “I Think I’m Going Bald”?

GEDDY throws ALEX a look; ALEX throws up his hands in mock defensiveness; ANIKA slowly crosses her arms.

ANIKA: “The Necromancer.”

GEDDY: Does anyone even remember that song?

ALEX: Or that tour?

GEDDY: Besides us?

ALEX: The “down the tubes” tour …

GEDDY: You’re bringing up traumatic memories, Anika. Look.

ALEX makes a clownishly sad face.

ANIKA: That’s because nobody understood what you were doing, at the time. But now? Your fans will go nuts!

GEDDY: We appreciate the vote of confidence, Anika, we really do.

ALEX: The stroll down memory lane.

GEDDY: Exactly. But … I think what we really want to do is stick to recognized classics.

ANIKA: “The Necromancer” IS a classic!

 ALEX: By “classic” we don’t just mean “old,” Anika. We mean … what do we mean?

GEDDY: We mean like maybe four minutes of that song are any good.

ALEX: As in not bad.

GEDDY: Out of thirteen.

ALEX: Thirteen? Jesus.

ANIKA: Eight minutes of it is guitar solos.

ALEX: Eight minutes … guitar solos …

ANIKA: There are four guitar solos.

ALEX, wistfully: Four guitar solos …

GEDDY: Ahem. We’ll take it under advisement.

ALEX, snapping back: Right! We’ll consider it. Thanks, Anika!

GEDDY: We’re just brainstorming.

ALEX: Brainstorming, right! Throwing out ideas! Chiseling nothing in stone! We really value your input, Anika!

GEDDY: So … what else?

This question might be directed toward ALEX, but ANIKA has raised her hand again.

ALEX: Do we have to raise our hands like that?

GEDDY: … Yes, Anika?

ANIKA: “Cygnus X-1.”

Another pause from stage left. ANIKA is not deflated; she is expectant. ALEX starts laughing.

ALEX: You’re kidding, right? Pause. Right?

ANIKA re-crosses her arms. GEDDY and ALEX eye each other again, nervous, abashed.

GEDDY: C’mon, Anika. We’re asking you to be …

ALEX: Mindful.

GEDDY: Mindful, that’s it. Consider our age.

ALEX: My arthritis.

GEDDY: My voice.

ALEX: Those high notes … phew.

ANIKA: Primus played “Cygnus X-1” a few years ago.

ALEX: Great! Now we don’t have to!

ANIKA: I don’t remember Les complaining about any high notes.

GEDDY: Let’s let Les do what Les does.

ALEX: What does Les do?

GEDDY: Whatever Les does.

ALEX: What about Larry Lalonde? I guess he’s chopped llllliver.

GEDDY: And Tim Alexander. Herb. I mean, he’s just the drummer.

ALEX: The ginseng drummer.

GEDDY, mafioso: He’s a little shaky.

ALEX, mafioso: Ethically speaking.

GEDDY, mafioso: As in he ain’t got any.

ANIKA has watched this whole exchange like a tennis volley.

GEDDY: All we’re trying to say, Anika, is … be mindful. Of us. And of our fans. We want to focus on recognized classics. Songs folks’ll recognize.

ALEX: “Tom Sawyer.”

GEDDY: “Freewill.”

ALEX: “Limelight.”

GEDDY: “The Spirit of Radio.”

ALEX: “New World Man.”

ANIKA has faked falling asleep a little more with each title.

ANIKA: Bo-rrrrrring.

GEDDY, to Alex: Did you hear that? She just rolled her r’s. Do Germans roll their r’s?

ALEX: She’s not really German!

GEDDY: She’s an imposter!

ALEX: Are you an imposter?

ANIKA: Natürrrrrrrlich.

ALEX, after a pause: Shit.

GEDDY: Yeah. That sounded pretty authentic.

ALEX: How’s your Yiddish?

GEDDY: Better than my Hebrew.

ALEX: That bad, huh?

ANIKA: I don’t want to play “New World Man.” Sorry.

ALEX, stunned: She doesn’t want to play “New World Man.”

GEDDY: Unbelievable.

ANIKA: I HATE “New World Man.”

GEDDY: How can you hate “New World Man”?

ALEX, baffled: Who hates “New World Man”?

GEDDY: What’s wrong with “New World Man”?

ANIKA: Well, for starters. It’s misogynist. I mean, did you ever think to write a song about a new world woman? Or maybe a digital woman? How about “the last immortal woman”?

ALEX: We get the point, Anika.

ANIKA: “The most endangered species, the honest woman”? “Sought alone to rule the fate of woman”?

GEDDY, singing: She’s a new … world … wo-man …

ALEX: It’s not bad.

ANIKA, mafioso: I tell you what. I’ll play “New World Man” if you’ll play “Cygnus X-1.”

ALEX: Let me guess: and “The Necromancer.”

ANIKA: Deal!

ALEX: She drives a hard bargain, this one.

GEDDY: She’s trading up.

ALEX: She’s marching us to an early grave.

GEDDY: Not so early. Signals for Alex to come closer; conferring, purportedly out of ANIKA’s earshot: At this rate, even if we pick two-thirds of the songs, she’ll get most of the time.

ALEX: We can pick two songs for every one she does.

GEDDY: Three.

ALEX: Three, sure.

GEDDY: She’ll still come out ahead.

ANIKA has heard them: Hello? I thought this was a democracy?

GEDDY, to Anika: It’s more like a corporation, actually. We’re bigger shareholders.

ALEX: Right. We have a controlling interest.

GEDDY: We’ve logged more time.

ALEX: A lot more time.

GEDDY: You’re like a junior partner.

ALEX: Wayyyyyy junior.

ANIKA: Uh-huh. I see how this is.

ALEX: How what is?

ANIKA: Did you treat Neil like this way?

GEDDY: What way?

ANIKA: Like a “junior partner.”

GEDDY: Well, he did write all those lyrics …

ANIKA digs around the coffee table comes up with a journal, holds it up to them, smiling.

ANIKA: Also, I came up with some new fills.

GEDDY: Let’s save that for the next tour.

ALEX: Or the one after that.

GEDDY: Our fans are picky.

ALEX: “Album quality” means what it sounds like.

ANIKA: You mean boring?

GEDDY: Again with the boring.

ANIKA: And patronizing.

ALEX: Patronizing?

GEDDY, patronizingly: We’re not patronizing, Anika.

ANIKA: Cliquish.

GEDDY and ALEX together: We’re not .. cliquish.

ANIKA: We’re not?

GEDDY: No! To Alex: Are we?

ALEX: I don’t think so! Do you think we are?

ANIKA: Finishing each other’s sentences?

GEDDY and ALEX, alternating: We don’t … finish … each other’s … sentences …

Pause.

GEDDY: All right, Anika. Hypothetically speaking. For the sake of argument. Let’s just say. We decide to play “The Necromancer” AND “Cygnus X-1.” Any other requests?

ALEX: Is it ever going to be my turn?

ANIKA: Well, obviously, since we’re playing “Cygnus X-1,” we should also play “Book 2.”

ALEX: Gulp. “Hemispheres”?

GEDDY, after a long pause: Fuck.

ANIKA: For the record, I didn’t say “Hemispheres,” I said “Cygnus X-1, Book 2.”

ALEX: Oh, thanks so much, Anika! That really clarifies things! That’s so much better!

GEDDY, gruffly: Mindful, Anika …

ALEX: What the hell were we thinking?

GEDDY: You mean when we hired her?

ALEX: I mean writing a song that fucking long! Pause. Why can’t she play anything under ten minutes? Is it in her contract or something?

GEDDY: I don’t remember seeing that clause. Do you?

ALEX: Why didn’t we put a maximum-song-length clause in her contract?

GEDDY: Remind me to fire our lawyer.

Pause. They are thinking. ANIKA watches them, clinically.

ALEX: Wait, wait. I’ve got this. Let’s say, for the sake of argument …

GEDDY: Hypothetically speaking.

ALEX: Hypothetically speaking, we play “Cygnus X-1.” We could, say, transition from the middle section right into the “Cygnus” section of “Hemispheres.” You know. Imitating a keyboard: Whoooooo …

GEDDY, singing: I have memory and awareness … but I have no shape or form …

ANIKA stares at them, horrified.

ALEX: Why are you making that face?

ANIKA: Well, for starters—

GEDDY: I hate that “for starters” thing.

ALEX: Her English is limited.

GEDDY: Her English is better than yours.

ANIKA, unphased: FOR STARTERS, then he, or you, or whoever, never goes into the black hole. How do you end up with the gods on Olympus if you never even go into the black hole? How does that make any sense?

GEDDY: … Prolepsis?

ANIKA, increasingly scandalized: How can you even understand what’s happened to him, how he got there, if you just play the end? What about all that heart-versus-mind stuff? Apollo and Dionysus? The battle between the gods? That’s the best part. Neil must be rolling in his grave, listening to you, you … MUTILATE his masterpiece like this.

ALEX: I think what Geddy’s trying to say is that we can, you know … trust our fans to fill in the gaps.

ANIKA, scoffingly: Really? For a song that isn’t a “recognized classic”?

ALEX and GEDDY eye each other.

GEDDY: I think what Alex is trying to do here is, you know … craft a medley.

ANIKA, almost under her breath: Ugh. I hate medleys.

GEDDY: Now she hates medleys.

ALEX: I don’t know anybody who hates medleys. Do you?

GEDDY: Our medleys.

ANIKA: All your fans hate medleys. YOUR medleys.

ALEX: There she goes, speaking for our fans again.

GEDDY: Aren’t you a little young to be speaking for our fans?

ALEX: And a little female?

ANIKA: Great. First it’s my age, now my gender. Your fans are bringing their kids. Their kids are also fans. They’re my age. Some of them are girls. Women, you know?

ALEX: Wait! Snaps his fingers. I’ve got it!

GEDDY: Again?

ALEX: We’ll make the whole show one long medley!

ANIKA is not pleased.

GEDDY: Are those daggers?

ALEX: Those are definitely daggers.

They both ham being stabbed by ANIKA’s glare. GEDDY drops to his knees.

ALEX, grunting: I’m not taking it that far.

GEDDY: Help me up, would you?

ALEX takes GEDDY’s arm. Their performance almost breaks ANIKA.

GEDDY: Look. We’re just trying to include as much material in the set as we can—

ALEX: Including songs YOU want to play—

GEDDY: —without extenuating ourselves.

ALEX: Or our fans

GEDDY: Or their forty-year-old kids.

ALEX: You know what attention spans are like these days.

GEDDY: Microscopic.

ALEX: Nonexistent.

GEDDY: We don’t mean you, obviously.

ALEX: You’re different.

GEDDY: Special.

ALEX: It’s why we hired you.

GEDDY: But for everybody else? The age of epics is over.

ALEX: Thank God!

GEDDY: Except, of course … Picturing hands: The drum solo.

ALEX: That’s right! Twenty minutes, at least.

GEDDY: Why not an hour?

ALEX: We could take a breather.

GEDDY: Have a drink backstage.

ALEX: A wee nip.

GEDDY: In fact, multiple drum solos.

ALEX: So long they have their own intermissions.

GEDDY: Videos of us backstage rocking out to Anika.

ALEX: Wait! I’ve got it!

GEDDY: God in heaven! You can’t keep him down!

ALEX, as if reading off a marquee: All-percussion versions of classic Rush tunes!

GEDDY: Unrecognized classics.

ALEX: “The Necromancer.”

GEDDY: “Cygnus X-1.”

ALEX: “Book 2”!

GEDDY: We could synch along to a pre-recorded version with the drum tracks dropped.

ALEX: Like Milli Vanilli!

GEDDY: Yes!

ANIKA, blanching: It’s blasphemy. I’d demand my money back.

ALEX: From Ticketmaster?

ALEX and GEDDY laugh diabolically together, abruptly stop.

ALEX: She’s making … THE FACE again.

GEDDY: What is that about?

ALEX: Gee, Anika, you only get to play with, like, one of the most legendary rock bands in the history of the world.

GEDDY: Greatest—among the greatest rock bands in history.

ALEX: We wouldn’t say THE greatest …

GEDDY: We’re humble people.

ALEX: We’re Canadian.

GEDDY: But definitely up there.

ALEX: Stratospheric.

GEDDY: Space-shuttle-worthy.

ALEX: Hall of Fame inductees. Finally.

GEDDY: Multi-multi-platinum.

ALEX: Beloved by their fans.

GEDDY: Their medley-loving fans.

ALEX: Any drummer would kill to be in your shoes.

GEDDY: They’re pretty big shoes, Anika.

ALEX: Huge. Ginoromous. Verrrry big.

GEDDY: I’d watch my back if I was you.

ALEX: Consider hiring a food-taster.

GEDDY: As for us … all we want …

ALEX: A little gratitude would be nice.

GEDDY: Humility.

ANIKA appears unmoved.

ALEX: Compassion?

Nothing.

GEDDY: Pity?

Nope.

GEDDY, trailing off: Mindful, Anika …

ALEX, almost to himself: Have a heart …

GEDDY: As well as a head …

ALEX: Make like Cygnus …

GEDDY: Book 2 …

They shrivel where the stand, until they are sitting crosslegged on the stage, like children at story hour. Slowly, ANIKA rises from the couch. She takes a second pair of drumsticks from the coffee table, crosses the stage to where GEDDY and ALEX sit, and hands them each a pair. They begin to drum on their laps, childishly happy, synchronized. ANIKA takes a turn around them, graceful, enjoying the spectacle. Then she crosses to stage left, removes her coat from the rack, and, after brushing GEDDY’s and ALEX’s coats fondly, exits.

CURTAIN.