【2016 Archives】

Our guitarist was flying into an anxiety attack at the worst possible moment.

"I forgot how to hit the note016 Archives" he panted, true panic flashing in his eyes. "I forgot how to hit the note!!!"

In less than a minute, our band was due onstage for the big talent show closing number at Jefferson High School in Bloomington, Minnesota. It was 1989, late fall. An auditorium filled with 2,500 classmates, teachers, parents, friends and family was buzzing on the other side of the heavy curtain.

Bad time for Jamie to lose his cool.

SEE ALSO: Tom Petty, American rock 'n' roll everyman, dead at 66

The audition went down the week before. We called ourselves Silent Treatment, and were just getting started learning covers with a new lineup: my best friend and fellow junior Jamie on guitar, with our sophomore pals Nik and Brandon on bass and drums.

For the audition we picked one "classic" (the Rolling Stones' "Start Me Up," not yet 10 years old) and, in a last-minute change, a single that had yet to hit the radio: "Free Fallin'," the opening track of Tom Petty's buzzy new solo record Full Moon Fever.

Petty, who died after suffering a cardiac arrest Monday, was pushing 40 then, already a rock dinosaur in the eyes of us high schoolers. But there was something fresh and immediate about that record -- "Free Fallin'" was catchy as hell, felt like a hit about to take off, and it was easy enough to play. We gave it a shot in rehearsal, and it worked. Mostly.

Though I was our frontman, my voice couldn't comfortably stretch up to "Now I'm freeeeeeee ... freeeee-faaallin'" and hold it -- but Jamie, whose voice was a shade higher than mine, could; so he took the chorus while I dropped into the backing vocal. He nailed it in practice, nailed it in that audition. And when it was over, Karen, the senior student chairman of the talent show committee, pulled me aside.

She told me they didn't want us to play one of those songs. They wanted us to play both.

"We want you to open the show with 'Start Me Up,'" Karen said, and close it with 'Free Fallin'.'" Then she whispered something to me before she left the stage: "You guys chose well ... 'Free Fallin'' is my new favorite song." And just like that, Karen was my new favorite senior.

Original image has been replaced. Credit: Mashable

For the first time in Talent Show history, a band was getting two slots, and bookends to boot. We had Petty -- and Jamie's grinding tenor on the big chorus -- to thank for that. When show day came, Karen wasn't exactly taking the pressure off. "Don't screw up my favorite song," she said, and winked at me (people used to wink at each other unironically, I swear).

We blew the show open with "Start Me Up," brisk and bawdy, like the Stones oughtta be. Nik, our bass player, lost a string just as we got under way, but made do with the three he had left. Brandon, our always-amazing drummer, was dialed in. Jamie's guitar was roaring, and I strutted around doing my best Mick Jagger under the blinding lights of the big stage. Silent Treatment, getting things off to a flying start.

But some 90 minutes later, it was time for our big finale. And now Jamie was fah-reeekingout about his singing part on "Free Fallin'."

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"I can't sing it. I can't sing it. I DON'T REMEMBER HOW TO SING IT!" he shrieked, shaking, clammy and pasty white, all pleading gestures and shifty eyes. There was no talking him down -- but there was also no time.

"Ladies and gentlemen, back for an encore and our final act of the night, let's give it up again for Silent Treatment!"

It's too late to turn back, here we go!

"She's a good girl, loves her mama," I crooned, looking over to my right at Jamie, sensing him also sensing the crowd's ripples of delight at our fresh song choice. And in a minute, we were either going to be huge high school heroes -- or this place would erupt into hysterical laughter.

Was he even going to attempt it? Should I take it over?

"And I'm a bad boy, 'cause I don't even miss her/I'm a bad boy for breakin' her heear ... "

"Now I'm FREEEEEEE ... FREEEEE-faaallin'" Jamie belted, grinding it out and utterly nailing it. The crowd went nuts.

We got through the song without a flaw, the place erupted one last time. And since it all happened pre-internet and pre-digital video, the rest is just gonna have to remain a legend on a smeary, forgotten VHS tape somewhere.

Original image has been replaced. Credit: Mashable

Little did we know what a touchstone of a song we'd pulled off that day.

"Free Fallin'" slow-burned its way into pop culture that year, peaked at No. 7 on the Billboard chart a few months later, and the following summer -- that magical bridge between junior and senior year for me -- you couldn't open a car window without hearing someone spinning Full Moon Fever.

This all happened at a time when classic rock was in a bit of a rut, already drifting into nostalgic oldies territory as boy-bands and slick dance tunes were taking over the radio. But along came Petty with this amazing collection of razor-sharp rock songs -- "Won't Back Down," "Runnin' Down a Dream," "Yer So Bad" and of course "Free Fallin'" -- that made guitars, drums, bass and vocals seem pretty relevant again. Which was great, if you were in a band.

Little did we know what a touchstone of a song we'd pulled off that day.

Those songs would be the soundtrack of my best high school years. Road trips taken but kept secret from our parents, cigarettes sneaked before and after school, bleary nights at the bonfire parties down by the river -- Full Moon Feverwas always in the rotation.

Even if Petty had never struck out solo to make Full Moon Fever, he was part of the American musical fabric that couldn't be avoided, up there in stature with Elvis, Johnny Cash, Bruce Springsteen, Janis Joplin. If you grew up in the U.S. within spitting distance of a radio, you knew many of hits heartland-rock hits; Full Moon Feverjust pulled them all back into focus, with "Free Fallin'" at the fore.

Petty wasn't too pretty to look at, didn't have a wild or flashy persona and his workaday, everyman songs felt neither cosmic nor particularly epic. He was a man among gods, grinding out rock 'n' roll with a growly Rickenbacker guitar and a plaintive warble, while the next generation was holding the genre together with weirdness and sonic bombast (The Pixies, Jane's Addiction, Red Hot Chili Peppers -- what we used to call "alternative" bands).

It almost feels strange to call him a "rock star."

But I guess you never know until you've walked a mile in a man's shoes. Or gotten up onstage, in a 2,500-seat auditorium filled with virtually everyone you know, and tried to sing one of his songs.

Even just the chorus.

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