Leon is a gear snob (you are allowed to own Gibsons, Gibsons, Gibsons, one or two Fenders and a Gretsch - all other brands are lesser ones; amps have to be tube and feature the Marshall logo) and in many ways more conservative than I: His Firebird had to be sunburst, no other fin was acceptable. He did buy an 80ies Kramer cheap a while back because he wanted something "with an 80ies headstock".
The band (Vegas Accident) is as yet without a bassist as they haven't found someone yet to their exacting visual standards. He has to be tall, glammy, skinny as a rake and dedicated like hell. And play with a pick close to the bridge with a sharp, bony sound. All of which forces them to do without a bass player for the time being, on their demos they play the bass themselves. Leon is a skillfull bass player (he prefers Fender Jazz basses of all things!) and - don't you just love kids - never fails to point out that he is not only faster than dad on bass, but can also slap and tap on bass too. How I hate the brat for it! He's together with the curly haired one part ot the two-pronged lead guitar attack of the band while the drummer sounds like Tommy Lee in Rammstein.
They have a plan. Having justifiably identified Sweden as the current glam rock Mecca of the world, they want to move there in summer for a 12 month stay of "making or breaking it". The other two are a couple of years older than him (they saw him on the street looking like he does and asked him if he played guitar, he affirmed, incredibly clichée ...). So my son, who is only turning 17 in June, is proposing to me now to finish school this summer after 10th grade already and then move as a still-minor to Sweden with his two twenty-something buddies. I am torn. Between the realisation that this is probably the way to do it if you want to give it a real attempt and my Über-Ich which warns me that he needs a comprehensive education should sex, drugs and rock'n'roll not be sufficient on his CV in the future. And of course he knows how to get me with questions like: "Dad, will there ever be a better time for me to give it a try than now?" I try to console myself with the thought that Sweden is not LA and people don't get shot there. And there is always hope that his new girlfriend might talk him out of it.
