THE NOVELISTS: The Story
One fan’s interpretation of how it all started.
Joel Ackerson was out for the count, uninspired and searching for the meaning of his existence through an attempt to go to law school. His typewriter paper blank; a basket of crumpled, failed beginnings told more than his lack of words ever could: Joel was in a rut. It was the year 2009, and the memories of touring, and recording seemed so far away from him now. Almost like a dream. Papers and midterms were now much more of a reality.
Enter Zack Teran, a dashing young fellow (slightly too tall, slightly too skinny) with a well-manicured beard and a head of hair that suggested a contrary approach. The stage was dark, but the bar was darker, and Zack’s bass-line walked along casually, tipping its hat to the ladies in the front row.
Joel was not a drinker, but it had been an especially grueling day behind an especially towering stack of books and he had found his way into the same establishment that very same afternoon. He pulled his seat up to a crisp ale.
It was not long before the music from stage eased its way into Joel’s drink, making him tipsy and unguarded. With his defenses down, and a full 4 oz of fermented barley in his blood, Joel professed his undying love for music. Somewhere a Law School professor slammed a book closed.
Meanwhile, in another part of town Eric Andersen was sitting in front of a row of completely attentive keys on a piano. They stared up at him, waiting. The instrument was old and much too out of tune to be taken seriously, but Eric himself was completely serious. Although he had seemingly everything for which he had ever hoped—a new album in the works, and a living wage through nightly gigging—he couldn’t help but feel something was still missing. Through several recording and touring projects, the cost of producing his own music was starting to get to him. Frustrated, Eric went for a walk to clear his head.
The summer sun, clocking out for the day, settled itself into the Sierras. Suddenly, Eric stumbled over the low melody of an upright bass. Two street musicians playing a surprisingly catchy tune were standing at a corner in front of him; a hat full of presidents watched quietly. Joel and Zack had decided to take their brand new show on the road and now found themselves staring back at Eric. A black hole silence hit the world for exactly three seconds. Then (as if it had always been) Joel, Zack and Eric’s voices erupted into perfect harmony.
At the very same time, Megan Slankard, a lonely touring musician, entered the Reno city limits on her way home from a three-month tour. Tired, and fidgety, she told herself that a solitary life on the road was neither economical nor inspiring. Her wheezing automobile pulled her down the quiet streets of the city towards the promise of a hot meal (vegetarian).
Lost in the stupor of their newfound connection, Joel, Zack, and Eric had unknowingly wandered into the street, their continuous singing barely covering the wheezes of an oncoming car. Megan slammed on her brakes…
Megan sat up suddenly as a solemn man came into the waiting room. He sighed slightly. “You’re going to need a new bumper,” he said, wiping the grease off his hands. Joel, Zack and Eric, returning from the snack machine, slackened their pace and grinned sheepishly. The mechanic handed Megan a small black guitar case “Good news is, this is going to be fine,” he said.
Megan pulled the instrument from its case and turned it over in her hands. She strummed softly. Joel, Zack, and Eric looked at each other as Megan started to sing. It didn’t even need to be spoken: [Queue 1812 Overture] four voices, like the sudden flame on a match, warmed the dark garage. These were the voices that would later ring through the chapters of time, telling tales that unite others in the same way that brought together the four musicians. Four songwriters came together to tell one story: The Novelists.