Cantrell: The Early Years, Part SIX

When Success Weighs Heavy, a Cantrell: The Early Years, Part Six, Update

Days after his big win, Christmas over with, the New Year looming, Erik found himself still pondering the words of the Award Show Host when he won Album of the Year for Collision.  This gave him a second Clean Sweep. Surely, something he wasn’t expecting at all. Busily stomping grapes on this early, Winter morning, it was chilly and his bare feet weren’t too happy at their job. They were cold, making him shiver. He began stomping more vigorously to help circulate his blood.  Hoping for a bit of warmth. Erik was bothered greatly by the notion that only he could do the Clean Sweep, as if the others nominated were somehow less talented. This ate at him, in fact. 

He knew his was a Gift from God, and he always strived to do his very best to utilize it, to share what he was given. As a man of Faith, this is what he was called to do, his very best to employ said gift to its fullest. Was he the best at music, though? He didn’t think so. He began to realize winning the award couldn’t and shouldn’t be his main focus. And he never thought it was. When and how did it become a priority? I need to see Father James. Giving back was more of what he should be doing. But how?

And then as if receiving an answer to his query, a thought occurred to him. What if . . . excited, Erik studied the calendar on his phone. His was a calculated decision.  There was a tight period of time in which a song, record, album, etc. must he licensed or released to be considered. He had no control over Artist of the Year, not really. Purposefully, he would license his newest song, just outside of the nomination period, at the top of next week. 

The Academy’s rules on this were stringent. Even if his song was better, it couldn’t even be considered for one of the Big Four, if it released after the specified period.  Although he found it difficult, he knew in his heart it was the right thing to do. Fortunately, or unfortunately, everything he seemed to touch of late turned gold. Accolade gold. Giving back, for him, was to effectively stand aside, without standing aside.

Thinking about all of this as he worked on his next batch of grape nectar, he managed to slip and found himself waist deep in frigid grape juice. Focus, Erik. Today wasn’t the warmest day, the season moving ever so slowly toward Spring, and already the wetness of his jeans began to seep into him, making him feel the cold air more effectively than before. Chilled to the bone. Shuddering with the coldness. Longing to be done with this, to go inside, take a hot shower and warm up in front of the fire. Spend some time with Kayleigh and the kids.

Erik knew that just being nominated didn’t give a person  an automatic win, yet for him it seemed merely a prelude. He also knew this was something he needed to do. Twice, now, his competitors were worthy musicians. Yet he was the one who swept the field.  Nailing all four categories, crowned by the fourth. While he enjoyed the attention, he really didn’t need all four categories. The only thing he could do, he reasoned, was to place himself outside of the competition.  

He told no one of his decision, and he would continue to publish his work. Also to continued to innovate and put out albums. He wasn’t stepping aside from his career, although he wondered just how many realized his was a full-time endeavor with all of the sudden phone calls he received offering him any number of jobs, even to become a Spy. What did they know that he didn’t?  Was he headed for a fall? That scared him. Answering his ringing phone, he listened patiently to the latest spiel, then replied evenly, "Thank you for considering me, but no thank you.” He placed the phone back into his grape juice saturated jeans pocket. He was registered as a Rock Star, singer, song-writer, performer. Which is what had him puzzled the most. What was the point of registering, if people felt compelled to offer him jobs? What do they know?

I have a job! He ranted to himself. That’s when he decided to at least talk things over with Father James. He put in a call and discovered he was in luck. Father had just enough time to squeeze him in before his last appointment for the day, if he could get there quickly. “Great, thanks, Father. I’ll be right over.” Taking a speedy shower, changing out the wet jeans for fresh ones, putting on a thermal T-Shirt, Erik made sure he changed a very dirty diaper before he left Kayleigh to fend for herself.  “I’ll be back soon. Maybe an hour.” With that he beamed over to Brindleton Bay to the newly rebuilt St. James Church.

*~~*~~*~~*~~*

“Father James,” Erik said, when he stepped into the priest’s new office inside the new church building. The scent of fresh paint still lingered in the air. “Thank you for squeezing me in.”
“Always for you, Erik. I know you have a random and crazy schedule. So, what can I do for you today? There’s something hanging heavily over you, I could hear it in your voice.”

“I just don’t have a handle on these feelings that are flooding over me. Making me question everything. I can handle the fame — I think I’ve been handling it, but ever since the quadrennial, the other night . . .”

“Ah, you’re bothered by a second Clean Sweep.”

“More than that it was what the host said about it and the way he said it. Father, don’t you find me being a tad selfish? If things keep going the way they have been lately, I’ll manage more Clean Sweeps. Whereas, if I choose to license my work before or after the nomination time constraints . . .”
Father James realizing where the young man was heading with this, shook his head. “You would be doing a disservice to your fans, son.” Erik’s shoulders slumped with the priest’s words. He owed everything to his fans.

“But the host the other night implied I was the only one who could do a clean sweep. That I was the Beethoven of this time . . . that’s a tough moniker to bear.”
“Simply because you had already won the first three. Put it into its proper perspective, son,” Father James pointed out. “Come, take a seat.” He waited as the young celebrity sat down and then took the empty chair, next to him. “So now you wish to rig it so others have the chance, is that it?”

Erik, head bowed, shrugged his broad shoulders, “It was a thought.”
“Then you, yourself must be thinking you’re unbeatable. Unstoppable, better at music than the others?” here the cleric made a clicking sound with his teeth. “Check your hat size there, Erik.”
Sitting up, Erik set his gaze on the priest. “No, that’s not what I meant. I know I’m not the best, I’m just lucky, or so it would seem. I’ve been on this profound streak of wins, lately, is all.”

Leaning forward in his chair, the cleric said, “Let me tell you something. If the others had the right stuff, they would win the categories, one after another, just like you. But did you ever stop to notice the nominated group changes from category to category? Did you also happen to notice you’re the only constant? You weren’t among four others who won the previous three. You stood alone in this. You’ve earned this. That’s all the host was saying. Take the wins as they come. I do recall reading about a Bruno Mars from the 21st century who managed six Clean Sweeps in his time.”

“Lorna Doone has more, I believe.” Erik nodded.
“Yes. A contemporary of yours, even though she’s retired. As I said, take the wins as they come. It’s all a calculated risk. There are no guarantees. So long as you’re not purchasing votes . . .” 

With this Erik shook his head. “No way, now that would be unethical.”
“Good. Because some do lobby for it; gifts, favors, Simoleons. Just know that eventually, said wins will dwindle off. Music is a rather fluid business, as you know. Trends come and go; right now, you’re the trend. So enjoy the here and now. Accept it. It’s no reflection on the other artists.

“In fact, you have your own Legacy to protect at this point. Should you slack off, they’ll call you a flash in the pan. No, you have to keep going. Keep innovating, keep churning out your music.

“Think of it this way,” Father James continued, after a slight pause, “What if Beethoven just quit trying? Music would have taken an entirely different direction. Who knows, maybe you are a game-changer. If so, you have an obligation to fulfill your destiny. God gave you this Gift. Stop fretting and just keep turning out that music of yours. No more hesitation, young man, you license that new song no matter what Sunday is coming up next. Just do it.”

“I just think I should cool my jets for a bit. I’m still going to license my songs, release albums. I’m not even close to stopping the innovating I’ve been doing; this holds my interest. Keeps my music from growing stale. As usual, Father, yours is the better perspective. And I guess the way to give back would be for me to use my celebrity to raise funds for various charities.”

“That’s more like it. See? I knew you would come up with your own solution to this perceived problem of yours. You often over think things. You get that from your dear father, I’m afraid.” 
Erik leaned forward in his chair to wag a finger at the priest, “So, it’s a Cantrell thing.”
“It seriously is. All five of you kids have it. Trust me I’ve chatted with all of you.”

A knock came on the office door at that moment. Both men stood up. “Ah, there’s my next appointment,” Father James said. Turning to Erik, he gave his hand a shake and said, “I’ll take your confession next weekend, if you can spare the time.”
“Thank you, Father. I’ll make the time. I need to make the time, get myself back on track.”

All for now, thanks for reading!

Just a quick note: This is NOT the end of my Cantrell story.  I've fixed my game issues, for the moment, and playing the new save I set up freed my mind enough to carry on with this. Thank you.