bittersweet - graham coxon

I

8th February 1995

When Graham Coxon stepped out onto that stage in Chicago, his mind was racing. It was all over the place. For starters, he barely had any sleep the past night, and was up the majority of it listening to one Violet Roberts and another Alex James cackle throughout it, drinking and doing whatever else they did. He hated noise. But he liked performing. And he wasn't a fan of the fact that someone in his life could puncture his enjoyment of being in front of a crowd.

So easily, too.

Violet had already done her set, so now it was Blur, which is basically what everyone came for anyway. Well, for Damon Albarn really.

That's all anyone wanted to know anymore. Graham was convinced that anytime him and Damon were seen out in public, he didn't even look apart of the band. Maybe a manager at best. He's always be quiet compared to his bandmates, which is why he's usually the forgotten one out of the lot. He isn't a sex addict like the rest of Britain in the 90s either, which makes him instantly boring to anybody.

He didn't know why it bothered him, because usually, he wasn't impressed by the women that surrounded his career, and they were nothing more than a distraction to him, especially when they were so easy to get. But, it's been getting under his skin recently. Being second best to his best friend, it almost felt wrong to feel like that, but he did.

And when the attention wasn't on Damon or Alex, it was on their close friend Violet Roberts, especially since she's started seeing one Liam Gallagher, somebody Graham has grown to hate over the past few months. Oasis have barely been in the charts, and the two brothers have already decided that they're the best band in the world. It was ludicrous! I mean, Violet was supposed to be smart, and she's let herself fall into the wrong hands, again. 

Who knows what went on with that French singer and Manchester frontman, it was always so all over the place. One of the many reasons he's stopped paying attention it, because it gave him a headache to try and understand. 

The crowd was loud tonight, Americans always are, he thought. Damon was already stoned out of his mind on a few lines of coke in the back, not to mention about four or five beers mixed with that, so he was barely able to see straight. So was Alex, and Dave for that matter. Graham was the only sober one there, apart from the two drinks he managed to throw back without feeling overwhelmingly sick. He's been quiet the majority of the night anyway, and nobody had exactly paid attention to him.

It wasn't long until his cue to start playing was given, and he strummed his fingers along the strings of his guitar, squinting directly at the bright light in the top of the venue shining right into his eyes, before the song started to blast. It was Tracy Jacks first, and despite the loud sound of Dave's drums pounding in his ears, he could still hear Damon Albarn's voice clearer than ever.

He was barely looking straight for the entire set, more so down at his fingers, or at his feet sometimes when he got bored of that sight. Flickering up and down, with his eyes closed in hopes of letting the music drag him away. He was so very tired.

He only lifted his head once in the entire show, which was about halfway through, sort of searching the crowd for something to focus on, when he finally found it.

Well, not that he wanted to, it almost made him drop his guitar pick.

In the midst of it all, at the back of the crowd, sipping what looked like a Pepsi and vodka, something she would always order at a bar, was Arwen Rylee. She had someone next to her, which is who he switched his gaze to next, yapping in her ear by the looks of it. He sort of kept his gaze on her for a few minutes, as if he was trying to figure out if he was a lightweight or not, and if those two drinks from earlier are really making him hallucinate.