Rock 'N' Roll Singer

𝗧𝗪𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗬-𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗘

     We were summoned onto the stage with the sound of applause. The boys marched out as part of a rock and roll army. It almost seemed a bit rehearsed but I don't think anyone minded. Maybe they had heard the phrase "stiff upper lip" and decided that they'd do one better.

     With the opening chords, the stage shook, rattling the carrying case wall. The amps wailed, and the crowd cheered as Jack announced the song as "an old favourite." Everything blended together into one noisy mass; I could barely hear my own thoughts before leaping into the wings for my entrance.

     From beneath the brim of my hat, I scanned the crowd and, at the sight of my friends in a smiley huddle, I lifted it to reveal more of my own face. In school, the music teacher used to tell us to look at someone we didn't feel nervous around if we were struck with stage fright. Not that I had stage fright or anything, but it was nice to see recognisable faces in the crowd.

     Outside of my small social circle, everyone else in the pastel-coloured, summer clothes crowd were strangers. Curious passersby wondering what all the noise was about. They could've seen the posters and were so intrigued that they had decided to show, or they also could've see to it that they get tossed in a waste bin. A bit older than I would've expected, likely around Bon's age, but, still, they showed up. They were a few university-aged kids out enjoying the day. We had about twenty-five people so far, I guessed.

I spied a few outliers, such as the Young brothers clad in jeans and T-shirts. Bon must've told them about the show. I wonder how they felt seeing someone else perform their songs. Malcolm's hair kept blowing into his face, which made his brother crack up as Malcolm tried to keep the hair out of his mouth. Everyone looked over their heads, though I'm not sure how many would have recognised them in the first place. So now rather than staring down the same four people, I was able to expand my line of sight to six, and seven if I could find Jane, an even smaller sight.

     A second cameraman appeared from behind a woman in a floppy sun hat and sunglasses. Of course once she spotted the camera, she stood a little straighter and finally started to smile to hide her lack of a positive reaction for the past two minutes. During Jack's guitar solo, the crowd grew by a few bodies wandering over towards us. It wasn't the AC/DC they likely expected to be hearing, but at least one or two young faces lit up at the sound, and they decided to stick around. Jack and I exchanged an excited glance as we stood back-to-back so he could sing a little himself.

     "You got a woman and you want her gone," he growled with the intensity of a middle-aged divorcée. It was almost a little jarring, especially as he slipped back into being the energetic boy that cared more about learning chords than memorising dates and names in school.

I think we just had a little too much fun pretending to be hitmen for hire, but I just loved the ensemble I had picked out, you know? If anyone said anything, I was simply getting into character.

Tom watched from the back with crossed arms and a thoughtful expression, calculating as he examined either side of him. Perhaps he was waiting for more responses from the posters or, at worst, considering cutting things short if he didn't feel we worth it. I wouldn't call myself a violent person, but if Tom dared to change his mind on some stupid whim, I'd thoughtfully see to it that he sport a checkerboard grin. For now, threats were set aside which, given the song being performed, was worthy of a quick snort.

The drums crashed into a sudden end as we were greeted by cheers and one jeer. Who ever got old of someone telling you that you sucked? I tried give Joey a warm smile, but he had ducked behind the kick drum, shakily searching for something. While Jack introduced "Get Back," I snuck offstage and nearly tripped on something caught in one of my heels.

Just pretend that didn't happen and hope that no one caught that on tape.

I reached for the drumstick and tossed it towards a surprised Joey. He caught it in his hand and discreetly used it to whack himself on the back of the head. I winced and ran into our open-air dressing room.

For all the glamour of performing in a costume, the pinstripe blazer was immediately tossed onto the ground and sat upon. In hindsight, a heavy black jacket wasn't ideal for an outdoor performance, but shame on me for not having gained psychic powers to foresee this outcome. The one positive is that no one could spot the sweat stains I would be panicking about. I had foolishly hoped that somehow, when you get on camera, your body just knows what is going on and doesn't make you look nervous.

"Can I have your autograph?" A voice asked as I fanned myself with my hat. I was relieved to see Bon, especially since his head was blocking the sun's ray.

"I guess so," I smiled. "But I don't have a pen."

"When you do find one, you can give this back to me." A 45 kept in a white sleeve appeared in his hand. I examined the Albert Productions label and nearly screamed.

SCHOOLBOY
(Quinn)
Albert

•

The Dumbskulls
Produced by Vanda & Young

All in glorious stereo, too. I knew the record was going to be pressed and put up for sale, but actually seeing it on vinyl in my own hands was surreal. I'd have to give George and Harry my thanks for putting up with us.

"Is your drummer doing okay? I've been watching him, and he looks as though he's never performed before."

"So you saw it too? I think it's the cameras."

Bon pricked up his ears as his attention turned towards the drum beats.

"He's hitting the edge of the drum," Bon informed me. "He might break his stick. How many more songs you got?"

"Just this and a Ramones song. Tom said he'd be doing interviews with people watching our show."

He nodded and gave me a, well, not a good luck kiss, but a keep-on-rocking kind of kiss.

I went back onstage for "I Wanna Be Sedated" and mouthed, You can do this to Joey. Bon reclaimed his spot in the crowd, covering his ears and giving me a comically disgusted expression. So what if the old man didn't like punk? At Allison was having a good time, as evidenced by her bouncing around and singing along, if I could've heard her. The whole song just passed by in a loud blur. I wasn't sure if it was the excitement-anxiety leading to the guitars and drums playing faster or simply the art of playing punk songs faster live. Joey's drum beats rattled our stage, and I began to fear that the floor would collapse, even if it was only sixty centimetres off the ground. The vibrations attacked our eardrums; even the usually calm Mark scrunched up his face while playing.

Tom appeared in front of a camera, resting a hand on his hip and bopping his head about. I didn't wait around to listen to what he had to say about us. I turned to walk Joey offstage and offer to take a quick walk around the park or something. Anything just to give him a little rest and assure him that he'd be fine, but it's hard to do so when you're down a drummer.