Rock 'N' Roll Singer

𝗧𝗘𝗡

     2 December 1978
     I retracted my previous statement the next afternoon.

     I was riding high off of last night's thrill as we were off to another gig in another small club not unlike the Ruby Room, except the one we were off to was much more punk. It's what all the bands seemed to do, playing in clubs they normally wouldn't be seen at. Bon was even going to swing by after some meeting at his recording studio.

      The club drowned itself in an alarming amount of darkness, as though we were stepping into a cavern rather than a rock and roll joint. The lights were kept low, patrons dressed in bruised colours, and the faces I could make out seemed cold, distant, and more into the music than each other. Some looked as though they had stepped out of a horror movie, with shadows trailing across their faces.

The band made its way through the crowd by holding one another's wrists. A plus of the dark lighting is that no one could actually see us fearing for our safety like small children that had gotten lost snooping where we shouldn't have been. Feeling people's hot breath on the back of your neck was like going on an actually scary haunted house ride, not one of those cheesy ones you go on at carnivals, only to be sorely disappointed at its lack of scariness.

Was the owner trying to skimp on his electricity bills, hence the near darkness we walked through? Then again, he probably had people trying to sue him left and right for God knows what went down in there. He probably didn't have too much to spare the electric company after that. The brightest part was the stage, featuring some pretty expensive-looking amps beneath punk concert posters advertising shows that happened around the country from here to Fremantle.

One of the few things I could make out was a message scrawled on the wall, illuminated by blacklight.

Must be weird or you wouldn't be here

Did I want to know who wrote it and what their definition of "weird" was?

I couldn't believe that Jack had to beg to get us in here. It seemed like a real hellhole, but if this was what it took to be famous, then so be it. We could do a few lunchtime gigs, no problem.

The club's owner, a tall man with a pierced ear donning sunglasses, stepped onto the surprisingly large stage to announce that we were up next. We followed close behind to plug in. Most bands probably did all that prep work before they went on, but the Dumbskulls weren't like that, and we liked it that way. The only consistent thing was our set list, and that's only because I'd be panicking onstage if Jack decided to suddenly go into a song I didn't know.

By the time we were set up and ready to jump in, I spotted Bon near the back. Or, at least, the top of his unmistakable perm. He was nearly hidden by broad-shouldered boys in leather until he hopped onto something to get a better view. Maybe a chair from one of the empty tables in the corner. He hunched his back to keep from hitting his head against the ceiling.

I didn't even have to call anyone to the front, as everyone took a step forward at hearing our names. Their curious eyes watched as we started the set, as though they couldn't believe what they were seeing. They were probably used to frowning and banging their heads, but the thought didn't seem to cross their mind, I'd usually be glad to have everyone captivated by us, but this felt odd. Weird, even. I shrugged it off as them being taken aback by our brightly coloured, casual attire or something.

Given that our gig was shorter than Lydon, we were back to just a few songs before I had to rush back to Mick's. I had wolfed down a sandwich and chugged a can of Coca-Cola on the way over here and hoped no embarrassing crumbs remained on my lips. My name tag bounced around in my pocket as I shook my hips to the beat. The crowd started getting into the music, resuming their dances, headbanging, or singing along if they happened to know the tune (which was the case for "I Wanna Be Sedated"). I could still make out the figure of Bon on that chair, girating the best he could to try and distract me while holding something under his arm. A cassette recorder with a little microphone attached.