by Anthony Shepherd
Alex Michelson begins to choke, having cinched the knot too tightly against his larynx. He loosens the tie for a bit of relief, but it's slow coming. Today his band signs with one of the largest record companies in the industry, and, for all it's worth, Alex knows full well what possibilities lie ahead: million-dollar advances and extravagant gifts; music videos and radio singles played in heavy rotation; autograph signings, CD release parties, Rolling Stone magazine covers, the Billboard Top 20; corporate sponsorships that leave him playing only Gretsch guitars, with Ernie Ball strings strung over GFS pick ups (or some such combination); a ten-year, seven-record deal, with label execs to control creativity and ensure they'll be more of a business than a band. In short, it means that he's made it. But Alex's stomach sinks, and he nervously swats a lingering fly from his cold and clammy brow before rubbing a kink from his stiffening neck. For some odd reason, he can't shake the feeling that something has just died.
Anthony Shepherd still thinks too much and acts too little, but now grows impatient waiting for change. His other 6S is titled Surviving This. You should read it.