Treble Makers Mayhem: Pianos, Chaos, and Questionable Vocals
Listen. I went to Treble Makers thinking I’d just be enjoying a little live music with the crew. What actually happened? A full-blown concert where I was the headliner… at least in my own mind.
Roll call:
Michael – our musical oracle, already knew he’d love it before the first note was played (and of course, he was right).
Carson – unpredictable as a raccoon in a karaoke bar.
Quincy – dancing around our table like he has been in a ballet class since he could walk, dropping wild song requests like it’s no big deal.
Me – just out here vibing, belting, and drinking something that made me feel like the main character in a country song with glitter.
The drink of the night? A glorious little number called Fishin’ In The Dark—sweet, sassy, and possibly 80% alcohol. I don’t know what was in it, but after one sip I felt like I could harmonize with Adele and win. It gave me confidence. It gave me range (in my head). It gave me a false sense of vocal superiority that I rode all night long.
Now, about my performance. Was I singing every single song like I was auditioning for The Voice? Yes.
Did I hit a single correct note? Unconfirmed.
Did that stop me from dramatically pointing at strangers during “Sweet Caroline”? Absolutely not.
Carson threw in a curveball with “Crank That” by Soulja Boy, and when the pianists actually played it? It was quite possibly one of the best songs of the night, even if they only played the first 30 seconds of it.
And then there was Quincy, casually requesting “Steve’s Lava Chicken” from The Minecraft Movie. A bold move. A strange move. A GENIUS move. The pianos delivered, and Jack Black’s chaotic energy echoed through the room like a nerdy gospel.
Meanwhile, Michael looked like a proud dad watching his favorite musical unfold in real time. He knew we’d love it. He knew it would be iconic. He probably even predicted my solo during “Don’t Stop Believin’” (which, for the record, was at maximum volume and zero pitch accuracy).
By the end of the night, my voice was gone, my drink was long gone, and my dignity was somewhere under the stage—right next to the memory of my failed attempt at a high note during “Bohemian Rhapsody”
Treble Makers, thank you for giving me the spotlight (even if it was imaginary) and for letting us all live out our musical fever dreams.
Until next time—stay loud, stay unhinged, and keep that Fishin’ In The Dark on ice for me.
