"Tell me about it." Billy smiled still. Yes, the creative endeavor was usually the best part--right until you were on stage. He'd watched a documentary on the Beatles once where Ringo said the screaming was so loud he couldn't hear the other guys, and so he couldn't get fancy with drum fills or play anything but the straight rehearsed song. In Billy's day (which he felt had passed, secretly), there were special speakers set up so the band could hear each other, and Billy thanked God for it. That was the fun part, feeding off of each others' energy and making a recording into a living breathing thing.
He missed it.
Billy ooh'ed and ah'd at appropriate intervals, and he got a kick out of the visual tricks of the place, an art that was lost on him since his creative side didn't venture into the visual. He was impressed, nonetheless, and at the end of the tour he gave a happy (if faintly fatigued) sigh. "Your job rocks."