Tonight was the night. The night every local band awaits. I breathe slowly. In and out, in and out. I can't afford to screw this up. The day I got the call from the manager, I nearly died. I thought it was some kind of nasty prank. But here I am, with my band, backstage at a Rammstein gig. No not just backstage. On in 20, the sound guy keeps count until we're up. Sound check has been completed, now is the perfect time for a little Dutch courage. I order another pint of beer and down half of it as soon as I get it. I mean, it's fucking Rammstein. RAMMSTEIN. German legends that have been there, done that and probably been kicked out for it. Breathe damn it, I remind myself. There was nothing to do to keep my mind calm. My guitar was tuned, lyrics were memorised and perfected, outfit was perfect. Nothing to do except wait.
Our band started out as four aggressive women who loved metal. A few years later, we'd refined our art, been to our fair share of local gigs, quite a few national gigs and the odd rally or two for women's rights. We'd earned this, but it still felt...surreal. Like any minute now someone would laugh and say they got us good. It really didn't sink in until the MC announced us. "And welcome to the stage, home-grown Melbournian mistresses of metal...Kiss This!" The MC said enthusiastically into the mic. Oh shit, that's us, I think. I look at my fellow band mates, my sisters. "Alright, let's get em girls" I nod at them, grab my guitar and down the last of my pint.
I stride out under the lights, ready to lay my heart on the line and give it my all. I didn't say a word to the audience, I just slammed into our first song, "Treat Me Like Your Whore". My fingers thrashing their way up and down the fret board of my old Gibson and letting every ounce of feminist strength in my body take control of my vocals. I let the aggressive and sarcastic lyrics of the song fall away into the ballad I wrote for an ex. Each song flowed into the next and was woven with everything I had to give, and I felt...alive.
Our set came to an end in a roar of encouragement and screaming for an encore. We left the stage and the lights went out. I consulted with the sound guy and stage manager and got the OK for an encore. I spoke to the girls and we decided to go out with a bang. Or a song about getting banged at least. So we strode back out on stage and brought the house down. I writhed and screamed while furiously working my way through the riffs, fuelling the audience. There had been several circle pits throughout the night but this was by far the biggest. They're loving us, I grinned to myself. I'd never felt so rewarded for my blood, sweat and tears. We finished up and said goodnight.
***Hey guys, hope you enjoyed this chapter. Yeah I know nothing happened, this chapter just kinda sets the scene. Stay tuned for some extra juicy content***
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Der Perfekte Drier (The Perfect Threesome) - A Rammstein Fanfiction
FanfictionLainie Clarkson is a Melbournian rockstar in her own feminist metal band, Kiss This. They've been asked to support Rammstein on their tour and tonight is the night. She might have her eyes on one man, but there's more than one man with his eyes on h...
