𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐒 ➢ JOHNNY ROTTEN

NINETEEN

Marion was in a rush, her steps quick and determined as she headed to Alan's squat. The day had been a blur, but now, with her notebook clutched tightly under her arm, she was focused on the task at hand: a scheduled rehearsal for their still-unnamed band.

Descending into the basement, she was met with the sight of Keith fiddling with his guitar and Alan perched behind his drum kit. Engrossed in their mucking about, they didn't immediately notice her arrival. But as soon as they did, Marion, without any preamble, announced, "I've written something. Something new."

Keith and Alan's attention snapped to her, intrigued. Opening her notebook, she flipped through the pages until she found the right one. She handed the open notebook to Keith. Alan, curious, left his drum kit and joined Keith, reading over his shoulder.

It was the first song she had written specifically for their band, the pages filled with lyrics that were both personal and foreign, as they drew inspiration from the life of Edie Sedgwick.

The story of Edie Sedgwick fascinated Marion. She was intrigued by the dichotomy of Edie's existence—born into wealth but plagued by personal demons, familial strife, and an eventual descent into addiction.

"It kind of goes along with what we've been messing about with," Marion explained, watching their reactions closely. "We can tweak the lyrics or whatever, but I think it's a good start."

Writing about Edie felt natural to her. Marion had been drawn to the poignancy of her life, the poetic tragedy of a woman who experienced the heights of the cultural revolution only to fall victim to its excesses. In writing about Edie, she had found a way to express her own fears and hopes.

It was a battered copy of "Vogue" from 1965, salvaged from a bin outside a posh High Street shop, that first introduced her to Edie. She embodied everything Marion was told she could never have—the glamour, the art, the whirlwind of '60s New York.

Marion imagined herself twirling in Edie's mod dresses, her problems shedding like the heavy beads of those too-big necklaces. She became a symbol of aspiration, a dream of what could be if you just spun the wheel of fate a bit faster.

But as years trickled past, reality seeped through the cracks of her fantasy. Marion learned of Edie's descent, the darkness that lurked behind the icon's wide, kohl-rimmed eyes. She found this out one dreary afternoon, the newspaper headline cold and final, telling of Edie's untimely death. It was a gut punch, a reality check.

Marion watched as Keith and Alan's eyes roamed the pages. She could tell they were trying to grasp the essence of the song, its narrative and emotional core.

Keith, after reading through the lyrics, looked up at Marion. "It's brilliant," he said.

Marion prompted them to start the tune. Alan returned to his drum kit, the sticks resting comfortably in his hands as he waited for Keith's cue. Keith, after adjusting the pegs on his guitar, strummed a few experimental chords, finding the right tone.

Then they began playing, the song opening with a fast-paced, almost frenetic drumbeat from Alan. It was a dynamic, compelling start, the percussion ringing out pronounced and complex. Keith's guitar joined in, his playing gritty and distorted, the riffs sharp and distinct. Marion always marvelled at how Keith could translate her emotions into music, his guitar speaking a language that words alone could never capture.

Marion stepped up to the microphone, her notebook clutched tightly in her hands. As she began to sing, her voice was different from her usually softer style—mocking yet vulnerable, rapid-fire yet clearly articulated. The lyrics tumbled out, a stream of consciousness that was both biting and poignant.

During the first verse, Marion's voice starts restrained, a simmering tension building beneath the surface. But as they approached the chorus, a moment of hesitation crept into her voice. The band paused, discussing the transition. Keith suggested dialling back the guitar's distortion, allowing Marion's voice more prominence.

The restart brought a shift in energy. Marion's voice grew stronger, more confident, the lyrics flowing with a raw, cathartic energy. The frustration and apathy of the song's narrative were vividly portrayed in her voice.

They then experimented with an instrumental bridge. Keith's guitar wove a searing line of notes while Alan's drums picked up a more hectic pace, both creating a moment of instrumental focus that heightened the song's emotional peak.

As they built towards the climax, Marion, Alan and Keith discussed the song's peak. It needed to erupt, to release all the tension that had been building. When they played it through, Marion's voice soared, commanding and potent, defiant yet painful.

Their first attempt was far from perfect. They stumbled at times, missed beats, and faltered in their synchronicity, but it was a natural part of their creative process. The imperfections only added to the authenticity of their effort. This was a song being born, a piece of them coming together to form something new and entirely theirs.

After a productive rehearsal, Marion, Alan, and Keith made their way upstairs, the anticipation of a few cold beers lightening their steps. As they ascended the stairs, Marion broached a topic that had been lingering in her mind. "So, John thought of a name for our band the other night," she said tentatively, gauging their reactions.

Keith and Alan paused mid-step, their interest piqued. They turned to face her, curiosity evident in their expressions. "Oh yeah? What's he got?" Keith asked, leaning slightly towards her.

"The Flowers of Romance," Marion revealed, watching their faces intently.

A moment of silence enveloped them as they lingered on the staircase, the name hanging in the air between them. Marion nervously chewed on her lower lip, waiting for their verdict.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, Alan broke the silence. "The Flowers of Romance, huh?" he said thoughtfully, rolling the name around in his mind.

Keith nodded slowly, a smile gradually forming on his lips. "I like it. It's different," he concluded.

Marion's heart fluttered with relief. "Really? You think so?" she asked, seeking confirmation.

Both Keith and Alan nodded, their agreement sealing the decision. This was it. This was their band—the Flowers of Romance. It wasn't just an idea anymore, but something tangible, something real.

Marion couldn't help but smile to herself as they continued up the stairs. The upper floor was scattered with people, one of them catching her eye almost immediately.

Kenny.

It had been some time since their last encounter at the Roebuck, an evening that lingered uncomfortably in Marion's memory. She felt guilty at the thought, regretting how things had unfolded. As they reached for beers, Keith's request snapped her back to the present. "Marion, can you talk to Don about getting in touch with Theo?" he asked.

Marion nodded, her mind still partially on Kenny. "I'll see what I can do," she replied, popping open her beer and taking a sip. Her eyes darted around the room until they landed on Kenny, who was making his way over.

Great. Fucking great.

Marion forced a smile, greeting him with a warmth she didn't entirely feel. "Hey, Kenny," she said, feigning ease.

"Was that you lot making all that noise downstairs?" Kenny asked casually as he approached.

Alan, with his usual nonchalance, replied while taking a sip from his beer. "Yeah, just running through a few tracks."

Kenny then turned his attention to Marion. "Your voice is fucking brilliant, you know that?"

Marion laughed awkwardly, downplaying the praise. "Thanks, Kenny. Just trying to keep up with these two," she said, gesturing towards Alan and Keith.

Keith chuckled and joined in the conversation. "She's alright, isn't she? Could be worse," he teased, earning an eye roll from Marion.

Then Kenny asked, "So, what's your band called then?"

Marion, Keith, and Alan exchanged a brief, knowing look. This was it, the first time announcing their band name to someone outside their circle. Marion turned to Kenny and took a deep breath.

"The Flowers of Romance."