Page 43 of Love on Tour
“Hell yeah. Every chance I get. It’s like a smorgasbord.”
“Of nothing but sausages,” Christine said incredulously.
“And that’s what makes it so delightful. What looks good?” Julianna asked.
“Well, I tried the chili dog, and it was okay, but I should have left off the onions. I guess the bratwurst doesn’t look bad.”
“Huh?”
“The hot dogs and bratwurst. Didn’t you ask me what looked good?” Christine asked.
“Hold on. You’re actually at a sausage festival?” Julianna asked.
“Duh. That’s what I said.”
“I thought you meant you were surrounded by guys,” Julianna said.
“Well, there are a fair amount here, but what does that have to do with a sausage festival?”
“Christine!” Julianna’s voice bellowed into the phone.
“What?”
“A sausage festival is another way of saying you’re in a place with a lot of dudes,” Julianna said.
“I don’t get it.”
“Urban slang. Sausage fest. Sausage, meaning penis. Sausage fest equals penis fest, meaning a festival of hot men.” Julianna’s voice gave away her exasperation.
“Gross,” Christine said.
“Don’t knock it ’til you tried it. Gotta run. Enjoy a sausage for me,” Julianna said.
“That’s disgusting,” Christine said as the call disconnected.
“Sausage fest. Seriously?”
Despite the long van ride, the dusty venue, and being surrounded by hot dog stands, Christine and Lynda spent quality time listening to songs Christine felt would be perfect for her. Due to Lynda’s contemporary look and her rocking guitar style, Christine wanted the songs to have more of a country feel. It was okay to have a certain amount of pop or rock elements, but when listeners turned on a country station or streamed a country song, they wanted to know there would be enough country elements in the song to keep them happy.
“I never lean toward that sound for me, but now that you explained it, I hear how it would work with my style,” Lynda said. “My rock edge can come through, but the song tells a story, and that’s straight-up country.”
“That’s the plan, and I think it’ll work. These songs we picked, they’re solid with that thought in mind,” Christine said.
“You have a fantastic ear, Christine.”
“Thank you. As a teen, I’d listen to songs for hours, focusing on the writing technique. Like a lot of people, I assumed every artist either wrote their own songs or they paid to buy songs from writers. I had no idea that people were paid to write songs and a career like song plugging existed. The idea of taking a song and finding a singer who wanted to record it was foreign to me. When I realized there was such a thing, it was a dream come true.”
“What a find you were for Austin. It’s amazing how it just takes one artist to create an ‘it’ factor for someone.”
“What do you mean?” Christine asked.
“You’re the new ‘it’ song plugger. All the artists are talking about you. You’ve taken Austin Garrett from new artist to star, and he trusts you implicitly to find the right songs for him. Everyone wants a song plugger like that. The male artists are holding back because they feel like you’re Austin’s girl, but I figured what the heck. You can’t very well give chick songs to Austin, so why shouldn’t I give your ears a go. And I’m so glad I did.”
Lynda left to change into her show clothes. Christine was speechless. She’d never been the “it” anything. She had been a nerd in high school, teased when she wasn’t being ignored. She was studious in college, nowhere close to being the life of the party. Now here she was, nearing thirty, and somehow she had the it factor. She had no idea how it had happened but knew the music business was a fickle friend, and you had to grab the ring when it presented itself. It didn’t always come around twice. This time, it had come around in a beautiful, talented package named Lynda. Lynda had dark-blonde hair that fell below her shoulders. She had the body of a woman who worked out enough to stay in shape but who didn’t seem opposed to a chocolate bar if the mood hit. Lynda was a perfect combination of gorgeous enough to make men swoon and down-to-earth enough not to threaten women. It was harder to break into the industry as a new female singer than it was as a male. It had become the enigma of country radio. Program directors and consultants battled the fact that songs by females did not research as well as songs by males. Nobody could firmly put their finger on why, but it had become a challenge for females to break into star status. Lynda was beginning to break through that barrier, joining the ranks of artists like Lainey Wilson, who had taken country music by storm with her authentic music and bell-bottom-country theme.
Lynda’s show started and Christine walked out into the audience to get the full effect. The sound quality backstage didn’tdo her justice. Lynda was a talent. Christine already knew that, but seeing her live made that belief even stronger. She stood out because of her ability to play electric guitar. Very few females could shred a guitar and take the lead. Lynda was one of them. When she played a guitar solo, the audience hushed. Fans brought out their phones to record her. People moved closer to the stage, their eyes focused on her fingers as they ran across the guitar strings. Her voice was lower than most females. She didn’t have the range or ability to hit the high notes, but she sounded like melted butter. It warmed you. The mix of her mellow voice and rousing guitar playing made her a unique artist. Lynda would be an incredible client. Christine planned to nurture the relationship.
BY THE TIME CHRISTINE ARRIVEDback home on Sunday, Lynda had put a hold on two of her company’s songs. A hold wasn’t a guarantee that Lynda would record the songs, but it meant she wanted to. And as long as everyone involved in the creative process agreed, from her producer to the label’s artists and repertoire person, it would move from a hold to an actual album cut. And maybe, if Christine and the songwriters were lucky, a radio single. It wouldn’t be enough to save the company, but would add favorably to the bottom line. Christine emailed her boss, who immediately replied with praise and appreciation.
