Styx 'n Stones

Shoulder to shoulder, musicians mingled. Tuxedoed waiters served drinks and escorted people to their reserved tables. White elephant gifts, large and small, stacked high under the tree, waited to be opened. Those participating in the exchange eyed the gifts as people added to the growing pile. The anticipation of the opening and fighting over preferred gifts occupied the minds of one and all. Christmas music drifted in soft tones as the guests conversed before the Christmas concert this evening on the delta. The restaurant overlooking the water had a bustling business and had booked a new up and coming band for their Christmas party. 

           Randy, once called Stoner Stones, but since he gave his life to Christ, now preferred Steely Stones, and his older brother Steve, also known as Steppin’ Stones, awaited their youngest brother, Scott, Slick Styx Stones, the third member of Styx’ n Stones, a tribute band for The Rolling Stones and Styx. Scott preferred playing smooth jazz, but the brothers played classic rock well together—Steve on guitar and vocals, Randy on bass and vocals, and Scott on drums. So classic rock it was. The Stones family had been booking and playing their own gigs for years, but not together as most would think. They each had their niche, and they were good. Steve had been doing solo gigs out of town, uptown, and downtown in their hometown, where he played guitar and sometimes banjo. People tended to say that he reminded them of a mixture between Ray Stevens and Heywood Banks. The man told the funniest stories as part of his act and never lacked invitations to parties.

           Randy played with Chose Him, a Christian band, for several years, but played in rock bands since high school days. Randy played often. Loud was his middle name. ‘If the music isn’t loud, what’s the use in playing?’ was his mantra. The cops showed up at nearly every gig he played. Usually, they just stuck around to listen. Also known to play an old country set, Randy was known to serenade women and yodel for the enjoyment of all that heard him.

           Scott didn’t play much when he was younger, but now, you couldn’t stop him if you tried. He played drums for several bands in town and a few in San Francisco, where he played smooth jazz—Slick Styx Stones, the hippest jazz drummer in the city.

           Although their sister, Kaci, hadn’t played with them but once since they became a group, she played her own gigs—playing piano and singing standards, show tunes, and originals, anywhere and everywhere, wherever for whoever would ask, after her career in the opera.

           But this year, the brothers had started playing together. Many paid them top dollar to play at Christmas parties this year, so they were making a killing.

           Slick Styx walked into the party to the beat of his own drum. Unlike some drummers who walked to a rat-a-tat-tat, or a ba-dum-chee, or during the Christmas season with a rum-pum-pum-pum, Slick Styx Stones walked in smooth, like jazz brushes. He wore a black fedora and long wool overcoat with a silk red scarf--the only bit of color for this cool cat. It was a Christmas party, after all.  

           “You’re late, Scott. We go on in 15 minutes,” complained Steve.

           “Then, I’m not late. We’ve already played five gigs this week. We don’t need to practice. Besides, I set up my drums earlier.”

            “Well, glad you’re finally here,” Randy said. “Same set as last night, okay?”

            “Sure. No prob.” Scott said. “They want carols, too?”

            “Yeah. Kaci’s helping out tonight. She and I will do Silent Night with Cattle Call at the end like we did last year for our family Christmas party. Oh, and they want O Holy Night. Kaci and I practiced this afternoon. It’ll be just her singing and me on guitar,” Randy said. “Unless you have your chimes, they would sound great.”

            “Yeah, They’re in my bag. I’ll set ’em up.”

            “Since Kaci’s here, she can help with the rest of the carols,” Steve said.

            “Fine by me,” Scott said.

            “Me, too. Figure, we gotta let her sing with us once in a while. She’s always wanted a family band. Besides, it’ll give our voices a rest,” Randy said. “We got six more gigs before Christmas.”

           “And we’re doing White Christmas, so you can use your brushes, Scott,” Steve said.        

           “Right on. I’m ready. Let’s get this party started.”

           The gig went off without a hitch, but Scott had a hankering for cowbell, so he used it for Jingle Bell Rock. Kaci played the jingle bells and other small percussion instruments for the party. Though her voice did not lend well to classic rock, it rocked on the classic carols. The gig ended up Styx’ n Stones with a bit of rock opera thrown in. A sound not heard very often, but had the crowd raving, and the four of them added three more Christmas gigs, which would include Kaci.    

            When they finished their set, Steve said he thought they could all use a little more cowbell. The reference wasn’t lost, and it brought the house down, especially when Slick Styx added the proverbial ba-dum-chee, using the cowbell for the cymbal.

           All in all, the evening trended well. Although each had their own style, they played well together tonight, unlike when they were kids, and they fought tooth and nail like cats and dogs.        

“Mom and Dad would be proud,” Scott said.

           “Yeah, we didn’t kill each other,” Randy said.

           “And we liked it,” Kaci said.

           “That’s what you think,” Steve said, rolling his eyes. “Did you have to wear a long evening gown, for Pete’s sake?”

           “Better me than you! Don’t forget the purple flowery number you bought in New York, and danced in, on top of the dugout.”

“Hey, my legs looked great in that dress,” Steve countered.

“Good for you, hairy legs. At least I shave mine,” Kaci replied.

           “Well, it was for a good cause,” Steve said.

           “Well, I wore this just because,” Kaci said, laughing.

           “Well, you’re just sore cause I look better in a dress than you do,” Steve said, bantering with Kaci like an old married couple. (Uh, awkward pause. –Or, rather like a house full of siblings.)

           “They’re gonna start calling me Kickin’ Stones, ’cause I’m gonna kick your butt,” Kaci warned cheekily.

           “You said butt! I’m telling!” Scott said.

           They all cracked up.  

           The crowd hushed. The Stones’ siblings looked around and then at each other and laughed hysterically. It felt great to have the family back together—all doing what they loved—teasing and all.