Insider - Olivia Cunning Page 0,138

barrier fence situated in the center of the arena. In addition to the blonde, there was a young man in a wheelchair. “So you two are?”

“Sorry,” the blonde said. “I should have introduced myself. I’m Rebekah Sticks, co-FOH for Sinners, and this is my big brother, Dave, who sometimes lets me touch his soundboard.”

“I’m also FOH for Sinners,” Dave said as he shook Toni’s hand.

“Is it usual to have two FOH engineers?” Toni asked.

“Nope,” Dave said, “but her husband’s with the band, so they won’t let me fire her.”

Rebekah slapped her brother on the shoulder, and he winced.

Mad Dog spoke into his microphone, and his voice was projected through the arena. “Sound check one.”

No less than fifteen men and a few women took the stage, each carrying a different electric guitar or bass. Toni spotted the familiar faces of the Exodus End guitarists, along with several Sinners’ band members and half a dozen people she didn’t recognize. Several loud blangs and pings blared from the speakers as the musicians arranged themselves on the stage. Some faced forward, but most formed mixed groups so they could chat with each other.

“What’s going on?” Toni asked.

“Mad Dog likes to show off,” Dave said.

“Hey,” Mad Dog said, “when you’ve done eighteen billion sound checks in your life, you have to do something to keep it entertaining.”

“I’m going to get it this time,” Rebekah said. She put on a set of headphones, flexed her fingers, and held them hovering over her soundboard sliders, buttons and switches as if she was about to play a rousing game of Whac-a-Mole.

Mad Dog’s voice came over the sound system again. “Ex-End will play ‘Bite.’ Sinners will play ‘Twisted.’ The rest of you just make some noise.”

“Twisted,” Rebekah whispered under her breath. “Focus. Focus.”

“And a one and a two and a three,” Mad Dog said.

Everyone onstage started playing at the same time. Toni cringed at the wailing, screeching cacophony blaring from the speakers. Face screwed up in concentration, fingers trembling, Rebekah began to move sliders on the giant soundboard in front of her. The raucous sounds coming from the speakers began to alter. The obnoxious blanging noises disappeared first, and then several blended melodies increased in volume. Rebekah raised one slider, cringed, and then shoved it back down before raising the one next to it. A few more adjustments, and Toni was astonished to hear the unmistakable music of “Twisted” blaring from the speakers. The drum track was missing and there were no vocals, but rhythm, bass, and lead guitar were all clear as day. Rebekah did a little dance of victory. Toni looked up to the stage and found everyone onstage was still playing. Sinners’ FOH had picked out the threads of her musicians based on sound alone.

Dave high-fived his sister. Toni would have high-fived her as well, but she was trying to hold her camera steady while she gawked at Rebekah in awe.

“Cut,” Mad Dog said. “Not bad. I heard only one mistake that time.”

He’d heard it?

Rebekah sighed. “Can’t get anything past this one,” she said as she pushed all the sliders to the top of the board.

“Do we have the mics ready?” Mad Dog said.

“Mic check.”

“Mic check.”

Mic check, mic check, mic check was repeated in different voices from various microphones all feeding into the same sound system.

“Vocalists take the stage,” Mad Dog said. “And Steve, get under there and give us a beat.”

The drum kit was already assembled under the stage.

“It’s hard because you don’t know which piece of equipment is attached to each set of sliders,” Rebekah said. “Mad Dog knows his soundboard so well, he can pick up on slight variations between the channels.”

“You can do it too,” Dave said.

“I’m getting there,” Rebekah said, blowing out a long breath. She dropped down beside Toni on a folding chair, and they both watched Mad Dog do his thing.

This time when Mad Dog instructed everyone to begin, there were various voices and drums added to the mix. There was no need to pick out the drum track—as there was only one—but with a few flicks of the FOH’s wrist, the sound of the drums came alive. After a couple dozen more motions from Mad Dog, Toni found herself listening to an Exodus End song. She could hear a bit of the other singers onstage—their voices carried through the air—but every sound coming from the sound system was pure Exodus End.

“And that, my friends, is how you mix a live show old school,” Mad Dog said.

“Show off,” Rebekah

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