Saturday: 1:30
It was with slight trepidation that Tony made his way onto the stage, his guitar slung over his shoulder as he walked. Performing wasn’t something particularly intimidating to him, but he’d never really auditioned for anything, nor was he used to playing for people he didn’t know. His town was small, and he’d never been anywhere else before. He wet his lips nervously as he reached the centre, and allowed his gaze to land on Caleb for a moment as he offered his friend an anxious smile. He hesitated for a moment, uncertain of how to start, and he could feel the heat rising in his cheeks when he finally spoke up with a simple ‘hi’. “My name is Tony, and I am a, ah--” he paused, taking a moment to wrack his brain before continuing, “--a junior.”
The song he’d chosen was an old folk song that his mother had learned from an elderly couple who’d moved to the Islands when he was young; she used to sing it to him every night. He was worried, knowing that it wasn’t a particularly mainstream genre, but Caleb had said that the Warblers sang all kinds of different genres, so hopefully his choice would be okay. “I will sing Sonny’s Dream by McGinty. I have sought zat I will play also, if that is alright,” he continued, shifting his guitar to his front and gripping the neck to quell the way his fingers shook as he looked from Caleb to Raf. At the captain’s permission, he offered his thanks quietly and then coughed to clear his throat. Glancing down, he started to pluck at the strings of his guitar, going through the short intro before opening his mouth to sing.
“Sonny lives on a farm, on a wide open space,” he began, his voice surprisingly devoid of the accent that had doused it whilst speaking, “Where you can take off your sneakers and give up the race. Or you could lay down your head by a sweet river bed, but Sonny always remembers what it was his Mama said...” He forced himself to look up, then, and let his gaze return to Caleb for a few seconds before he looked towards Dorian. Hopefully focusing on the members whom he was better acquainted would help him to keep his nerves further at bay. “Sonny carries a load; he is barely a man. There ai’ not a lot that to do, still he does what he can. And he watches the sea, from a room by the stairs, and the waves keep on rollin'... They've done that for years.”