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oliverreedmasterass · 1 year

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Part 4!

Credits to @starcatcherkiszka for the fic idea!!

In case you want something to listen to while you read: ✨Summer of 69 Playlist✨

Words: 6.8k

Warnings: language, drinking

Synopsis: Greta Van Fleet somehow manages to travel back in time to the Summer of 69, during the Woodstock Art and Music festival. You can only imagine what hijinks they’re going to get up to.

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“Get warmed up, Danny,” Josh beamed. “We’re going on after Melanie.”

“No we’re not,” Danny’s voice hardened.

“Told you he wouldn’t go for it,” Jake told Josh. Josh crossed his arms and turned back to Danny with a new look of determination plastered on his face. Danny scowled back.

“Be grateful, Danny. You’re gonna get to say you played at Woodstock.”

“I’m tired of you guys not taking me seriously.”

Sam whistled; it was rare for Danny to stand up to any of them.

“I’m tired of you acting like you’ve got a stick shoved up your ass,” Josh gave Danny a dirty look.

“Josh,” Jake raised his voice. “That’s too far.”

Danny’s face remained placid, but it was clear that there was a fire raging within him. Josh looked like he was ready to keep hounding Danny, which Danny was more than likely to respond to with a fist in Josh’s face. It was a miracle that Carlos Santana walked past them at that moment. All four of them dropped their mouths in awe.

“Are you going up there soon?” Carlos jutted his thumb at the stage.

They looked around at each other, unsure what to say. Carlos seemed unbothered by the silence since he leaned back on the front of the stage and scanned over the crowd with a twinkle in his eyes.

“Me and my guys are playing tomorrow. We’re all pretty nervous, but the people here seem to love anything, as long as it’s loud and has a good beat to it. That’s the kind of crowd I’ll gladly play for. This whole thing is far out.” Carlos pursed his lips together and shook his head, like he couldn’t believe his luck.

Danny looked like he was thinking hard.

“One of our guys is getting cold feet,” Josh spoke up.

“Bummer, man,” Carlos tsked. “You’d think being in a place like this would set you free. I hope your buddy can lighten up and get out there. I’m sure he’ll regret it otherwise.”

Carlos’ face brightened when he saw someone off in the distance that he recognized and pushed himself back upright from the stage.

“I hope to see you up there,” he waved goodbye to them.

“Bye, Carlos Santana,” Jake mumbled in awe.

“Did Carlos’ words resonate?” Josh turned back to Danny. “If Carlos Santana is saying you should play, you should probably play.”

“You know I could break you over my leg if I wanted to,” Danny replied.

“You need your space, got it,” Josh took a few steps away from him.

“But I’ll do it,” Danny added after a long pause. They all whipped around to face him in shock.

“But what about the butterfly effect?” Jake’s eyes were wide.

“I’m sure we’ve already screwed up the future,” Danny admitted. “We might as well enjoy ourselves. What was it you said earlier, Sam? Fuck it, we ball?”

“I’m sorry about the stick up your ass comment,” Josh cautiously moved back to Danny’s side to give him a loving pat on the back. “If anything, the stick was really just a twig.”

“Just remember that I could break you in half,” Danny reminded Josh.

“Of course,” Josh paled at the thought of being snapped.

“I have one condition though,” Danny continued while he was on a roll. “We go by a different name.”

“What’s wrong with Greta Van Fleet?” Jake asked.

“If and when we make it back to our time, I don’t want to get caught up in a lawsuit with ourselves over our band name.”

“That would be pretty funny though,” Sam looked to be imagining the court session with a goofy grin on his face. “I’ve always wanted to sue myself.”

“Why don’t we pull a Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young?” Jake tried to brainstorm.

“What would that be?” Sam broke out of his daydream to cackle. “Kiszka, Kiszka, Kiszka & Wagner?”

“We should do pseudonyms,” Josh suggested. Danny clapped his hands together at the thought.

“You can be Harry Dickface,” he pointed at Josh.

“Still bitter about the stick up the ass comment, noted,” Josh grumbled.

“We could make an acronym with the first initial of all our names,” Sam spoke over Josh. “What could we do with S, D, J, and J?”

“JJ and the Salty Dogs?” Josh’s face brightened.

“I mean,” Danny thought it over. “If you had started a band in the 60s, you definitely would have called yourself that.”

“All I can think of is Semen Dick Juicy Juice,” Sam admitted. “That’s the best my brain can do.”

“All in favor of JJ and the Salty Dogs?” Josh asked around, raising a hand. Sam and Danny joined him, but Jake studied the ground. Josh stared onwards at his twin and then cleared his throat. “All in favor of Semen Dick Juicy Juice?” With a bright smile, Jake lifted his hand up to the sky.

“JJ and the Salty Dogs it is,” Danny announced.

“It’s not a unanimous vote?” Jake looked disappointed.

“You really want to go out there as Semen Dick Juicy Juice?” Josh couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His brother was usually so serious about his music.

“It’s funny,” Jake lifted his shoulders. Josh scoffed at his brother and turned back to Sam and Danny, who had redirected their focus to the end of Ravi Shankar’s set.

“We need to head backstage to figure out our instruments,” he shared. The guy who had promised them a spot in the lineup hadn’t sounded all that concerned about the fact that Josh and his band had no instruments. In his words, they just had to “go with the flow.”

“Backstage at Woodstock!” Jake whooped as he threw two peace signs up. A few people around them stared at Jake in confusion, so Josh grabbed Jake’s shoulders and steered him away from the crowd so he would stop making a fool of himself.

Josh was relieved that it didn’t take too long for them to spot the backstage manager he had talked to earlier. He was moving some heavy looking crates, but stopped and embraced Josh in a warm hug when he noticed him.

“Nice to see you, brother!” he exclaimed.

“Dave, this is my band,” Josh released from Dave to motion to his brothers. “We’re gonna need to figure out our instruments before we head on stage.”

“Right on,” Dave clapped his hands together and nodded. “You guys are in luck, we just got some gear shipped in for the bands playing tomorrow. I doubt they would mind if you borrowed some stuff for your set. Most of them aren’t here yet anyway, they won’t know the difference.”

“Is that really how they did it in the 60s?” Sam whispered to Danny in awe. “I wouldn’t want someone else touching my bass.”

“Here, I’ll let you take a look,” Dave motioned for them to follow behind him. The next thing they knew, they were standing in front of a pile of guitar and drum cases sitting unattended in the grass behind the large stage. “Have at it.”

Jake moved towards a battered guitar case that looked promising and felt his heart thunder in his chest when he unhooked the latches and was face to face with Pete Townshend’s SG Gibson.

“No way,” Josh looked over his shoulder. “That looks like yours.”

“Dude,” Jake had to clear his throat to keep his voice from cracking. “This is Pete fucking Townshend’s.”

“Are you gonna play it?”

“Fucking hell,” Jake shook his head. “Of course I am, as long as Pete doesn’t find out. He would probably have my head on a stake if he knew I was touching this.”

“Good pick,” Dave came up behind Jake. “That one’s a beauty. And probably destined to be smashed on stage tomorrow night. I’m glad she’ll get a few solid plays in before her ultimate demise.”

Jake held the guitar closer to him, as if to protect it from any harm.

Sam was gazing down at a cherry red Guild Starfire with a deep look of contemplation.

“It’s got quadraphonic pickups,” he admired, poking down at the body of the bass guitar. Danny joined him and studied the instrument.

“That looks like a Phil Lesh bass,” he said. Sam studied the case closer and, lo and behold, the Grateful Dead’s bassist’s name was etched into the inside lid in a gold font.

“Well, shit, I guess this will have to do.”

“Hey, Danny!” Josh called a few yards away, stationed in front of a collection of boxed up drum parts.

“Yeah?”

“This kit says Doug Clifford on it!”

That was all Danny needed to hear to rush over to Josh’s side. Doug “Cosmo” Clifford’s drums had a richness to them that Danny had always admired on Creedence Clearwater Revival’s records. He was sure a lot of their sound had to do with Cosmo himself, but having the opportunity to even touch his kit brought Danny a joy he couldn’t turn down.

“I’ll gladly play that,” Danny stated, without even inspecting the kit. He had seen it at the Musical Instruments Museum on an off day when they were playing a gig in Phoenix a few years back. Sure, the kit wasn’t flashy like something Keith Moon played, but it was simple and it was perfect for Danny’s style.

“Feeling good?” Dave checked in with everyone.

“I’ll take whatever microphone Janis is singing with,” Josh placed an order with Dave, who replied with a hearty laugh,

“All singers are using the same mic, don’t worry.”

With their instrument situation settled, everyone was feeling a bit more at ease, all things considered. Though none of them were planning to openly admit it aloud, they were all feeling pretty anxious about going out on stage. Carlos Santana had a point that the crowd was a good and accepting one, but taking a second to consider the weight of what they were about to do was too overwhelming to bear.

Sam was grateful that they could keep themselves distracted by putting all of their attention into creating a setlist while Melanie took the stage. After asking them what their group name was so they could announce it over the PA, Dave disclosed that they had a 30 minute time slot to play however many songs they could fit. He added with a wink that the hippies in the crowd liked songs they could get lost in. Josh, Jake, Sam, and Danny all took that to heart as they sat in a circle backstage, trying to recall their best songs.

“We play a compilation of our favorite songs, how about that?” Josh thought aloud as he tapped his pen on his chin. “So that way we aren’t just copying our setlists from the future.”

“Considering how long I go with my solos, we’re only gonna be able to play three songs,” Jake realized.

“I’ll just kick you when you’re playing for too long,” Josh promised. Jake made a face.

“Please don’t do that.”

They got into a few arguments along the way but finally gathered a list of songs that felt right. Their timing was impeccable since they had just enough time for Josh to go through his vocal warm ups and Sam to rush around the backstage area looking for any kind of liquid courage.

Everything really started to feel real when Dave took the stage and tapped on the microphone a few times.

“We’ve got a treat for you all this evening,” his voice boomed over the crowd. “A new band showed up and was added to the lineup at the last minute. Trust me, they’ve got a sound you’re gonna dig. Give it up for JJ and the Salty Dogs!”

Jake had Pete Townshend’s guitar strapped to him and, even though it was unplugged, he could feel its power buzzing in his hands. He took one look out at the audience from the side stage and quickly closed his eyes. He knew that he would be able to get through their set because his muscle memory was intact and they had all been playing for long enough that they knew how to cover for one another if things went south. But he always wanted to play at his absolute best, so the pressure was still there. He had a bad feeling it was going to take him a while to get used to the Gibson since, like Pete Townshend, he was sure it had a bite to it.

From behind Jake, Sam had his arm wrapped around Danny’s shoulder. It was a relief that Danny had come around and decided it would be worthwhile to play at Woodstock. On top of that, Sam was over the moon that Danny looked as excited as he felt. He had ditched the white tunic backstage so he was back to showing off his exposed chest, and he held his drumsticks in both hands at the ready.

“This is gonna be great,” Danny leaned further into Sam’s side.

“They’re not ready for this,” Sam agreed.

At the back of the line, Josh was bouncing from foot to foot, shaking out his arms to remove all the negative energy. His voice had cracked a few times during his warmup which was a point of concern, but Josh tried not to fret on it too much. He was sure that his voice was just a little roughed up from how much he had shouted with joy during Ravi Shankar’s set. Traveling through time also probably wasn’t great on his vocal cords.

Dave stepped away from center stage and motioned for them to climb up the staircase.

“Give it your all,” he beamed as he passed them by. Jake sucked in a deep breath to calm his racing mind and led the way up the stage. The audience gave a hearty clap at his entrance which helped clear his head, and he hurried to the amps to plug his guitar in. After testing out a few chords, Jake nodded his head. The sound was a lot more raw than he was used to, but he loved how the guitar popped and snapped like it had a life of its own.

“GOOD EVENING,” Josh hollered into the microphone from center stage. Danny tested out the cymbals on the Cosmo kit and let out a whoop in glee. “WE ARE GRE-JJ AND THE SALTY DOGS,” Josh continued. “COMING TO YOU FROM ANOTHER WORLD.” The audience greeted that announcement with loud cheers. “Ready?” Josh turned around to check in with the band.

“Count us in,” Jake nodded.

“One, two, one, two, three, four,” Josh called over his shoulder. Sam broke into the mesmerizing intro to “Age of Man,” using Bert Sommer’s keys that had been left on stage from his set earlier in the day. Josh gazed out over the crowd and closed his eyes in euphoria.

“In an age of darkness light appears, and it wards away the ancient fears, march to the anthem of the heart, to a brand new day, a brand new start.”

Claps echoed across the grounds when Jake and Danny joined in and Josh took a step back from the microphone to nod to the music. He was glad to see that, at least within the first thirty or so rows of people, they were all standing and swaying to the music, lifting their arms up towards the heavens. He looked to his left and grinned when he saw that Jake was entirely in his element, squeezing his eyes shut and arching his back with every note hit so he was one with the music that was pouring from his guitar.

“And as we came into the clear, to find ourselves where we are here.” Josh’s voice had never felt more powerful. A good handful of people in the crowd seemed to call out in shock at how good they were sounding, which only motivated Josh to give even more. Danny, Sam, and Jake all seemed to feel the same way, because there was a kind of magic to what they were doing. While they knew that they sounded good during their usual shows, it was almost as if they truly were exploring through the history of humanity and taking the wide expanse of people in front of them on the journey.

The song ended and the roar of approval was deafening.

“Holy shit,” Jake bumped into Josh’s side. “They like it.”

“We’re playing at Woodstock!” Sam couldn’t help but shout from behind the keys.

“And we don’t sound like shit!” Danny added. Josh beamed at his bandmates and then returned back to the microphone since the cheers were dying down and replaced with a feeling of eager anticipation for their next song.

“Thank you,” Josh said, hoping he sounded as sincere as he felt. “This next one is, well, it’s pretty fitting for the occasion. It’s called Flower Power.”

The audience seemed to be a fan of the name alone, which Josh had to laugh at.

“Dig it!” he shouted into the microphone and then pointed at Jake to start the song. Jake tore into the opening riff with a wide grin, using an acoustic guitar that he had found sitting unattended backstage. Danny joined in on Cosmo’s kit, thundering into the drums so they pulsed over the PA. Puffs of smoke started appearing in the crowd and, to Josh’s delight, even more people started to join in the wild and free dancing. Off in the distance he could see a group of small children holding hands and skipping around in a circle to their music. They were really in their element.

“Hey! Turn to night, firelight, star shines in her eyes, makes me feel like I’m alive, she’s outtasight, hey!”

Jake stomped to center stage, as far as the cable would let him go, and started to mouth out his guitar part as he jumped into his solo. Josh clasped a hand on his brother’s shoulder, which Jake smiled at, and then he returned back to his side of the stage when he finished. With that, Josh entered into the bridge, lifting his arms higher and higher into the sky, which the audience copied, and then he turned and pointed to Sam, who was ready on the keys.

While he usually played an organ during their tour, Sam was stuck with a normal piano, but it was more than enough for him as he entered into an extended solo that cascaded up and down the keys in a jazzy succession. Danny leaned forward on his stool and rested his head in his hands as he watched Sam pound away on the keys in utter admiration. In front of them, the crowd lifted their hands and started to clap loudly, keeping in time as Sam played the solo of his life.

After doing one more run up and down the ivories, he played a final chord and couldn’t help but stand and take a deep bow when he was greeted by whistles and screams of joy.

“This is insane,” Sam mused to Danny as he stepped out from behind his keyboard to give one final wave to the crowd. “What is happening?”

“I wish I could tell you,” Danny laughed.

Josh backed away from the microphone again and joined Jake’s side. As blissful as it was to be playing in front of such a large, loving crowd, he wasn’t thrilled about the next song in their setlist. Sam had pitched the idea when they were figuring out what to play, claiming that it was the perfect song for the occasion. Josh could respect that opinion, but they didn’t usually play it live since it was understood in the band that it was, for the most part, out of Josh’s wheelhouse. But, after trying to put his foot down, Josh realized that his bandmates were all apathetic to his concerns and he was outvoted.

“I’m nervous,” he whispered to Jake. Maybe, just maybe, he could convince his brother to back out of the song last-minute.

“You gotta do it,” Jake replied without an ounce of sympathy. “It’s a great song.”

“But, my voice,” Josh attempted to protest.

“Your voice is on fire, Josh,” Jake disagreed. “Just close your eyes and let the music take you there.”

At that point Josh knew he wouldn’t be able to back out of it, so he returned to the front of the stage. Danny tapped on his cymbals and Sam began playing the beginning to “Tears of Rain.”

“This next song, it’s a beautiful song. It’s about the search for salvation, in a way. It’s about the long trip we’ve made, I suppose, to get here,” Josh spoke.

And with that, he let it rip.

“Bathing in the light around us, praying for the night to comfort thee, dancing on the coals below us, praying for the flood to set us free.”

Jake, playing the Gibson, came behind Josh and kneed him in the side of the leg.

“You’ve got it,” he called over the wall of music he, Danny, and Sam were making. Josh kept his eyes squeezed shut so he could remain in the zone. In his head, he was back in the studio when they had first recorded the song.

“Yeah,” he wailed into the microphone, “Who will bring the rain?”

As Josh hit his first unbelievably high note, he started to feel rain drops dancing onto his cheeks while he faced the sky. The crowd at first started to murmur in alarm at the rain that was rapidly picking up as Josh continued his “who will bring the rain?” chant but, once they accepted that they were going to get soaked, their cheers returned. Josh could tell that his hair was starting to plaster over his forehead and his clothes were feeling heavier, but he finally opened his eyes and boomed out in his strongest acapella wail the final, “Who will bring the rai-ai-ai-aiiiiii-ain!”

“Is it still safe to play?” he could hear Jake ask a stagehand. “ I don’t want to get electrocuted.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine, pal,” the stagehand assured Jake, though he seemed like maybe not the most trustworthy person. “We’ve got paramedics if you need them.”

“Great,” Jake mumbled.

From his keyboard, Sam attempted to push his dampened hair out of his face but wound up sputtering when he got a bunch stuck in his mouth. The paint on his jean jacket had started to run down his arms and chest during “Tears of Rain,” so he slightly resembled a pack of Skittles. None of that seemed to bother him though, since he looked around for confirmation that they were still playing and then broke into “Rhapsody in Blue.”

“RIGHT ON!” someone close to the stage hollered. Danny joined Sam, keeping a steady beat while Sam put his body into the music, taking short breaks to wipe his hair out of the way.

On his side of the stage, Jake retrieved a rag from one of the stage hands and tried to wipe off the fretboard. Next to him, Josh gulped down a cup of something that tasted citrusy and scrunched up his face.

“Ah, that stings.”

“Hey,” Jake tried to get his attention.

“Hmm?”

“I’m glad we’re doing this.”

“I sure as hell didn’t have this penciled in my calendar for today, but I’m glad we’re doing it as well.”

Sam was nearing the end of his interlude, so Jake and Josh returned to their designated spots on stage and got ready.

“Hold somebody close for this next one,” Josh addressed the crowd. “It doesn’t matter if you know them or not.”

Sam started playing “Light My Love” as puddles began to form on the wooden stage. Out in the crowd, it was split between people trying to shield their heads with jackets, and the more free-spirits, who embraced the rain with arms wide open, prancing around in the forming mud. Josh nearly missed his cue because he was so distracted by a group of young men who had started diving in the mud like it was a slip n’ slide. He made a mental note that he wanted to join them when their set was done.

“Your mind is a stream of colors, extending beyond our sky, a land of infinite wonders, a billion light years from now.”

“Woah,” one of the people who had joined the crowd forming on the side stage breathed out. Whoever these guys were, they were good.

“JJ!” a woman hollered from the sea of faces. “I love you!”

Jake snickered and lifted a thumbs up to the crowd, which Josh mirrored.

When they reached the “woah-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh” part of the song, all four of them started to collectively choke up. Led by Josh, it looked like the entire crowd was waving their arms back and forth to the beat, singing in unison. Their voices overpowered the music and, in that moment, Jake, Josh, Sam, and Danny had never felt more connected to people or, really, more human for that matter.

The song slowed to a stop and Josh had to take a second to collect himself. Jake was glad that the rain was hiding the tears that had started to pour down his cheeks.

“HOW ARE WE ALL DOING?” Josh shouted into the microphone once he was composed.

“ALL RIGHT!” the people shouted back.

“Champagne, caviar, anyone?” Josh couldn’t help but lean back into the microphone to joke. He was certain that Jake, Sam, and Danny were rolling their eyes behind him, but he didn’t care. It was a great joke, no matter the venue or audience.

Josh was pretty confident that they were past their 30 minutes, but no one was coming from the side of the stage to stop them, so he moved back to have a brief meeting with the rest of the band.

“Everyone doing good?” he checked in. Danny looked as if he had just cannon balled into a lake based on how drenched he was, but he was quick to give a thumbs up. People in the 60s really knew how to enjoy music. The number of people he had seen air drumming along with him made him feel like he was on cloud 9.

“Are we doing Broken Bells?” Sam asked. The paint was now entirely washed away from his clothes, leaving his skin looking like a rainbow had vomited on him.

“I think we should,” Jake piped in. He had ditched the Sgt. Pepper jacket during “Light My Love” so, like Danny, his chest was out and glistening with moisture in the glow of the stage lights.

Sam let out a chortle. “I didn’t realize how many songs I’d be doing on the keys tonight.”

“You’ll get to Phil’s bass soon,” Josh promised.

Out of seemingly nowhere, a woman hustled on stage and stood on her tiptoes to speak into the microphone Josh had left unattended. The guys whirled around to see what was going on.

“Jenny Martin, your dad is looking for you,” the woman read off a piece of paper. “Come to the front entrance, Jenny Martin.”

The woman turned back around and mouthed a quick apology to the band before rushing back to the wing. Josh reapproached the microphone and gave it a testing tap.

“Shame on you Jenny Martin,” he said with a look of mischief, which earned some laughs. “This one is Broken Bells. It’s about,” Josh paused for a second. “Broken Bells.”

It was incredible that the rain hadn’t let up for a second since “Tears of Rain.” What was even more incredible though was that they were still playing in spite of the weather disruption, and no one in the audience looked to be in any rush to leave and seek shelter. Josh was pretty sure that he would have dipped for one of the vans after a couple of songs, but he had a feeling that they were keeping the audience captivated by their music, which was the highest praise a musician could receive.

Jake had requested a stool before their set so he could comfortably play the acoustic part of “Broken Bells,” but a stagehand had told him that the best they could do was a rug. Because Jake didn’t want his pants to get more soaked than they already were, he sucked it up and played the acoustic standing, which took some adjusting.

The part that he hadn’t considered was how to pull off the switch from acoustic to electric before his guitar solo. Pete Townshend’s guitar was sitting off to the side of the stage on its stand, but none of the stagehands knew any of their music or, consequently, when Jake needed the other guitar.

“Shit,” Jake whispered to himself as Sam started his solo on the keys. He knew he had about twenty seconds to get himself situated, which was usually more than enough time when he had a professional handing him his guitar from off stage. Doing everything on his own though was going to be complicated.

Josh let out a call in surprise when Jake tore the strap off of the acoustic and rushed offstage. To an unknowing spectator, it looked like Jake was about to empty the contents of his stomach off to the side but, in reality, he was rushing around in a blind panic, reaching for the electric guitar and cable, thrusting it into the amp. It was kind of Sam to improv on the spot and add a few extra bars to his solo, buying Jake enough time that he could run back to center stage right as he ripped into the first note of his solo.

“I thought you had dipped,” Josh covered the microphone to call to his twin.

“Never,” was all Jake could manage to gasp out.

While Jake, Sam, and Danny played their hearts out in the instrumental part of the song, Josh jogged to the side stage where Dave was standing with Joan Baez, a few guys from Santana, and Ravi Shankar.

“Enjoying yourselves?” he asked them.

“Who are you guys?” Greg Rolie asked in amazement.

“Just a little group from Michigan,” Josh shrugged. He didn’t know what else to say.

Joan Baez was squinting at Sam.

“I think that’s the kid who cornered me earlier,” she realized. “I didn’t know he could play.”

Josh made a mental note to tell Sam about that later, grinned back at the legends who were looking at him in awe, and returned to the microphone to close out the song.

“THANK YOU!” he called out. Once again, no one was making any effort to remove them from the stage, so Josh turned to Sam.

“Grab the bass, Sammy. It’s your time to shine.”

Sam leapt up from his bench and bound to the back of the stage so he could retrieve Phil Lesh’s bass and plug it into his own amp. Jake watched on in concern, keeping his fingers crossed that Sam wouldn’t get electrocuted in the process. All seemed well with him, since he ducked out of his jean jacket and strapped the bass on, stepping up closer to the front of the stage. Josh gave him a thumbs up and Sam smiled back.

“ONE TWO THREE!” Sam counted them in. They started “When the Curtain Falls,” immediately ejecting the crowd out of the earthly, philosophical music into a more lively, head banging song.

“Whoo!” they could hear Carlos Santana shout from the wing of the stage. “Now that’s rock n’ roll!”

Jake couldn’t help but turn around and throw him a pick when he had a break in his riff, which Carlos caught with a loud laugh.

Through the buckets of rain, Danny watched as some people in the crowd started climbing up the light towers to get a better view. The people who were visible from the stage due to the lights were all collectively throwing themselves around in the mud, cheering and jumping with Josh, who was screaming into the microphone.

“When the curtain falls, walk the hollow walls, babe, once a valley doll, now you’re not at all, no!”

Sam had had his doubts about playing “When the Curtain Falls” live at Woodstock but, watching the audience’s reception, he was glad that Jake had suggested it. Usually they had “Safari Song” and “Highway Tune” in their setlist to prove to people that they knew how to rock, but “When the Curtain Falls” had an extra heaviness to it that felt fitting for the occasion.

“DO IT JAKEY, DO IT!” Josh shrieked into the microphone. Jake launched forward and started to shred like he had never shredded before, hitting a brain-bending line of notes up and down the fretboard, bending the strings this way and that. By the time he was done with his solo and started to close out the song, it almost looked like the guitar was smoking.

“Now I’m warmed up,” Jake grinned around at everyone on stage when the song finished. Josh took that as his cue to introduce their last song of the evening. He would have played forever if given the choice, but he also realized that there was still a line of musicians waiting for their own turn on the stage. It would be cruel to steal such an opportunity from them.

“This is our last one for tonight,” Josh shared with the crowd. People shouted in protest. “I know, I know,” Josh laughed. “But you’ve got a lot of great musicians up ahead. Now, we want to take you on a journey to end things right. My brother over there, Jake, is a rock n’ roll sherpa, and he’s gonna lead the way. Right Jake?”

Jake gave him a big thumbs up.

“Take it away!” Josh shouted. Jake began “The Weight of Dreams” and the crowd was immediately silenced by the hypnotizing riff that echoed over the fields. Josh started to sing his part and, as he moved into the second chorus, he could feel his voice struggling to catch up. He had been testing his vocal chords that evening, but it was mostly because he was so caught up in the moment, he forgot to tone it down in some parts. His voice started to rasp on his last line, and he backed away from the microphone to clear his throat while Danny began to thunder away on the drums in the middle section. Josh gave a silent prayer that his voice would remain intact and, after sucking in a deep inhale, he started to scream at the top of his lungs over Danny’s drums. His voice warbled a bit but the audience started to cheer with him, so he was able to finish his note strong and step back to give Jake center stage as he began his 12 minute long solo.

Josh stared at his twin shaking his wet hair around and hitting every note perfectly, and then his eyes tracked back to Danny, who was likewise putting his entire body into his part, from crashing his cymbals to stomping on the bass pedal. Sam threw his head back as he leaned into the long, booming chords that he was playing on the keys. Overhead, a thunder strike clapped and, off in the distance, lightning flashed, brightening everyone’s faces for a split second. The time between the thunder sped up as Jake went deeper into his solo and, by the time he reached the climax, lightning was dancing directly over their heads. If Josh didn’t know that it was his brother in front of him, he would have assumed he was a god, controlling the sky with his guitar.

Josh remembered that he could be doing something during Jake’s solo and broke out of his stunned trance to fetch a tambourine that he had found unattended in the grass earlier in the day. He jogged to the far end of the stage and held a hand over his brow to shield his eyes from the rain as he tried to look out at the audience. It was hard to make out much since it had gotten pretty dark, but each time lightning struck, their faces lit up briefly and, from what he could tell, they all collectively looked transfixed. Jake literally had the entire field of people in the palm of his hand. Josh started to smack around the tambourine and found a spot he was content with at the back of the stage, near Danny’s kit, where he could make his commotion without stealing the spotlight.

It seemed like Jake never wanted to leave the stage, since his 12 minute solo turned into a 20 minute one. If the audience was lost in his music, Jake might as well have been too, since his fingers ran up and down the fretboard, playing melodies Josh had never heard before. Considering they had a 16 hour studio session before traveling back in time, Jake’s endurance was unbelievable. His fingers should have fallen off ages ago.

Jake started to slow down around 25 minutes into his solo because he really was feeling on the verge of toppling over, and Josh putting a hand on his back was the nail in the coffin, confirming that it was time to finish things. He entered the last few bars of the song, ripping out the chords like a final blast of energy. It took him a while to catch his breath and muse at the fact that the audience was entirely silent, as if waiting for his next move. He let them wait a few more beats and then played the last part of the song.

The final note hung suspended in the air for what felt like minutes before fading into silence.

“Fuck yeah,” Jake whispered to himself.

Danny, Sam, and Josh moved to the front of the stage to join Jake, signaling that their set was finished, and the silence was quickly replaced with an ear-piercing ovation. Jake held up Pete Townshend’s guitar after unhooking it from its amp, and then they all took a bow. Jake knew he would be tempted to start playing if he stuck around any longer, so he took one last look out at the crowd, released a deep exhale, and then rushed off stage.

Danny, Sam, and Josh were quick to join him. It was still dark and hard to see, but from what Jake could make out, they all looked as though they had run a marathon. In a sense, with the set they had just played, they basically did.

“Holy fucking shit,” Dave greeted them, his face elated. “What the fuck was that?”

“Just some stuff we’ve been working on,” Jake tried to sound humble.

“I’ve never heard anything like that before,” Dave exclaimed. “I mean, that was far out. Like, far out. These people are lucky they got in for free.”

“Hey, nice playing out there,” Joan Baez approached Sam, who looked on the verge of passing out from surprise. “Even if you probably pushed my spot in the lineup out by an hour.”

“I’m so sorry,” Sam’s eyes widened with worry.

“Don’t be,” Joan Baez laughed. “I don’t mind when the music is good. I do hope you’ll catch my set, though.”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Sam was quick to assure her. Joan motioned behind Sam to the line of people who wanted to talk with him and his bandmates.

“Looks like you’ve got some fans to address,” she said with a beam. With that, she whisked away, leaving Sam dumbfounded.

“I love it here,” he mused to himself.

“Dude,” Danny tried to hop on Sam’s back, making his knees buckle at his weight. “Michael Lang invited us to an afterparty. All the other bands are gonna be there.”

“No fucking way,” Sam’s voice cracked in disbelief. He had to drop Danny back down because he was too exhausted to carry him after their set, but instead opted to squeeze him in a hug. “I can’t believe we did that.”

Jake joined them with a can of beer in one hand and a rag around his other.

“I popped like seven blisters and didn’t even realize it,” he motioned down to the rag when he caught Danny and Sam inspecting it. “I’m gonna be so sore tomorrow.”

“I’ve already signed twelve autographs,” Josh announced with pride as he joined their circle.

“Did you do your legit autograph?” Danny couldn’t help but ask.

“I signed it as Harry Dickface,” Josh winked at Danny, who shook his head with a bright smile.

“Do you guys want to take a seat somewhere?” Dave approached the group. “I’m sure you all could use some rest. We’ve got a tent in the back.”

“Yeah,” Josh nodded. “I think I need to unwind.”

“Agreed,” Danny, Sam, and Jake echoed.

They needed a lot of time to process everything.

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