Post by barbt on Jul 3, 2016 12:59:12 GMT -5
This is a sequel to Galwaygirl’s “Phil, The Ghost, and the Future”. That story can be found on page 3 (currently) of the General CT Stories section of Nox. I did try to get in touch with GalwayGirl to ask her permission, but she hasn’t been on the site for 3 years as far as I can tell.
Phil Coulter sat in a shadowy corner of one of the larger pubs in Dublin. He was waiting for the evening’s band, a retro group, to come on, and thinking about his musical career and any upcoming prospects for new projects. It had been 8 years since his Dickensian vision/dream with the Ghost of his Music in the Future, when he had been shown 6 lads that he would one day form into a musical group that would create music that helped people in need or pain. So far, although he’d kept his eyes open and at least entertained any ideas that might lead to the group, he’d only succeeded in identifying one of the lads. He was sure that the university student he’d seen, determinedly finishing a paper and then relaxing by singing beautifully, showing rare talent as an artist and storyteller, was an up and coming young tenor named Paul Byrom. Paul was currently touring America with a group of three tenors, and seemed dedicated to a classical career at this point, which didn’t really make sense. None of the other lads he’d been shown seemed to fit into a classical group.
He’d known the formation of the group wouldn’t happen soon after the dream, given the young ages of two of the lads he’d been shown. But to not find more than one of them in 8 years? He ran over the lads in his mind again. The blond boy who seemed to have a soul composed of equal parts mischief and music. The toddler with the surprisingly strong voice and the blue eyes that were much older than his years. The accounting student (he still couldn’t reconcile that career choice with a performer) who played in pubs, shifting through everything from a roguish persona to a vulnerable one with ease depending on the song. The Scottish factory worker who sang folk songs in pubs and who was dedicated to a lifetime with his wife. And the last, the multi-instrumentalist…
Phil’s jaw dropped. The last lad was walking onto the stage as he thought of him. Yes, it had to be the same lad. The piercings, the longish hair combed flat, as if he were trying to look tough, but the eyes that gave away the gentle innocence inside. He’d added a narrow strip of beard to the center of his chin since the dream, but otherwise he could have stepped directly out of it. He didn’t seem to have aged a day. Phil settled in to watch and learn about this lad. He’d been told that this lad would be a part of the project from the beginning, but would grow into a more vital role over time.
By the end of the set, Phil was nodding contentedly. The lad seemed to be the leader of the band, and was very good with both guitar and, unexpectedly, keyboards. He hadn’t been practicing keyboards in the dream. He had a talent for making a guitar sing. His voice was as gentle as the look in his eyes. This lad Phil would enjoy working with, and he intended to get the lad connected to him as soon as possible. He grinned suddenly. His daughter’s birthday was coming up, and he’d been looking to hire a band for the party – this one would do very nicely.
He made his way over to the stage as the band prepared to step out for a break. The lad he was watching noticed the movement and looked up, his eyes widening as he recognized Phil. This was something that Phil almost wished didn’t happen, but it was inevitable, he supposed.
“You gentlemen are quite good,” he said quietly. The other band members turned and their eyes widened as well.
“Th –thanks, Mr. Coulter!” stuttered the lad he was watching. “I didn’t expect to run into someone like you here!”
Phil laughed. “I make a habit of checking out the bands on a regular basis,” he said. “It’s an excellent way to find new talent that might be useful in my projects. At the moment, I’ve been looking for a band for a personal project – my daughter’s birthday party. I think she’d like your group very much.”
He watched as the band members looked at each other in amazement. They silently nodded at the lad Phil was watching, and he turned back to Phil. “Why don’t you step backstage with us, Mr. Coulter, and we’ll talk this over?”
“Certainly,” Phil replied. “And please, call me Phil. We’re all in this business together, after all.”
By the time the band was ready for their second set, Phil had come to an agreement with them to play at his daughter’s party. He’d also learned more about the specific lad who interested him most. His name was Neil Byrne, and his father was a musician that Phil remembered encountering in the past as the leader of a house band at a hotel in Bray, County Wicklow. Phil had been surprised to learn that Neil had taken over his father’s role as leader of that band at the young age of 16, and that, contrary to his initial impression in the dream that Neil had been in his early to mid-20’s, he was now 27 which meant he could have been no more than 19 at the time of the dream. He could still have passed for 19 easily.
Over the next year, Neil’s band played for the party and Neil worked regularly with Phil’s own band. Phil learned that Neil also wrote very credible songs, often with a touch of smooth jazz feel to them. Phil also started hearing rumors that Paul Byrom was considering a switch to classical cross-over. Perhaps the time for the group to form was approaching. And then Sharon Browne stepped into Phil’s life.
Phil Coulter sat in a shadowy corner of one of the larger pubs in Dublin. He was waiting for the evening’s band, a retro group, to come on, and thinking about his musical career and any upcoming prospects for new projects. It had been 8 years since his Dickensian vision/dream with the Ghost of his Music in the Future, when he had been shown 6 lads that he would one day form into a musical group that would create music that helped people in need or pain. So far, although he’d kept his eyes open and at least entertained any ideas that might lead to the group, he’d only succeeded in identifying one of the lads. He was sure that the university student he’d seen, determinedly finishing a paper and then relaxing by singing beautifully, showing rare talent as an artist and storyteller, was an up and coming young tenor named Paul Byrom. Paul was currently touring America with a group of three tenors, and seemed dedicated to a classical career at this point, which didn’t really make sense. None of the other lads he’d been shown seemed to fit into a classical group.
He’d known the formation of the group wouldn’t happen soon after the dream, given the young ages of two of the lads he’d been shown. But to not find more than one of them in 8 years? He ran over the lads in his mind again. The blond boy who seemed to have a soul composed of equal parts mischief and music. The toddler with the surprisingly strong voice and the blue eyes that were much older than his years. The accounting student (he still couldn’t reconcile that career choice with a performer) who played in pubs, shifting through everything from a roguish persona to a vulnerable one with ease depending on the song. The Scottish factory worker who sang folk songs in pubs and who was dedicated to a lifetime with his wife. And the last, the multi-instrumentalist…
Phil’s jaw dropped. The last lad was walking onto the stage as he thought of him. Yes, it had to be the same lad. The piercings, the longish hair combed flat, as if he were trying to look tough, but the eyes that gave away the gentle innocence inside. He’d added a narrow strip of beard to the center of his chin since the dream, but otherwise he could have stepped directly out of it. He didn’t seem to have aged a day. Phil settled in to watch and learn about this lad. He’d been told that this lad would be a part of the project from the beginning, but would grow into a more vital role over time.
By the end of the set, Phil was nodding contentedly. The lad seemed to be the leader of the band, and was very good with both guitar and, unexpectedly, keyboards. He hadn’t been practicing keyboards in the dream. He had a talent for making a guitar sing. His voice was as gentle as the look in his eyes. This lad Phil would enjoy working with, and he intended to get the lad connected to him as soon as possible. He grinned suddenly. His daughter’s birthday was coming up, and he’d been looking to hire a band for the party – this one would do very nicely.
He made his way over to the stage as the band prepared to step out for a break. The lad he was watching noticed the movement and looked up, his eyes widening as he recognized Phil. This was something that Phil almost wished didn’t happen, but it was inevitable, he supposed.
“You gentlemen are quite good,” he said quietly. The other band members turned and their eyes widened as well.
“Th –thanks, Mr. Coulter!” stuttered the lad he was watching. “I didn’t expect to run into someone like you here!”
Phil laughed. “I make a habit of checking out the bands on a regular basis,” he said. “It’s an excellent way to find new talent that might be useful in my projects. At the moment, I’ve been looking for a band for a personal project – my daughter’s birthday party. I think she’d like your group very much.”
He watched as the band members looked at each other in amazement. They silently nodded at the lad Phil was watching, and he turned back to Phil. “Why don’t you step backstage with us, Mr. Coulter, and we’ll talk this over?”
“Certainly,” Phil replied. “And please, call me Phil. We’re all in this business together, after all.”
By the time the band was ready for their second set, Phil had come to an agreement with them to play at his daughter’s party. He’d also learned more about the specific lad who interested him most. His name was Neil Byrne, and his father was a musician that Phil remembered encountering in the past as the leader of a house band at a hotel in Bray, County Wicklow. Phil had been surprised to learn that Neil had taken over his father’s role as leader of that band at the young age of 16, and that, contrary to his initial impression in the dream that Neil had been in his early to mid-20’s, he was now 27 which meant he could have been no more than 19 at the time of the dream. He could still have passed for 19 easily.
Over the next year, Neil’s band played for the party and Neil worked regularly with Phil’s own band. Phil learned that Neil also wrote very credible songs, often with a touch of smooth jazz feel to them. Phil also started hearing rumors that Paul Byrom was considering a switch to classical cross-over. Perhaps the time for the group to form was approaching. And then Sharon Browne stepped into Phil’s life.