seedy old punks and a few biker types, college kids and teenagers drinking pop. Even though we were playing that night, we had to have our hands stamped with Xs. No beer for Scorpio Bone.
Kruel and Unusual was already there, hanging around the bar. For a big-name act, they were pretty friendly. The lead singer talked a little with Relly, about mikes and amps.
So we set up and watched the crowd come in. By the
time we were supposed to go on, the place was packed. The back room is where the stage is. There's a booth for the sound man and about as much room on the dance floor as in Relly's kitchen. In the back was a table where one of the Kruel and Unusual girlfriends was selling CDs and band T-shirts. By eleven o'clock we could hardly get through the crowd to the stage.
"All right," Jerod yelled, grabbing the mike stand with both hands. "We are Scorpio Bone and this is the end of the world as you know it." Butt gave us the four-count and off we went.
How good were we? Better than ever. How did the crowd like us? They screamed for three encores, and that's saying something for the opening band. Everyone came to see Kruel and Unusual, but they went away talking about Scorpio Bone.
We did all our best songs, which means all the ones I wrote the words to. With the crowd pushing up against the stage, with the noise ripping out of the amps like a horde of furious demons, with Jerod yelling my words, I thought nothing could ever be as good.
My Ibanez and me were like one body. And Relly's crushing riffs were mine too. Butt's bass drum pulsed in my brain. Jerod screamed words that I had written, or copied off old gravestones. And the whole crowd was mixed up in our rising, roaring tide.
I was back behind Relly and Jerod. Still, it felt like this was
my
night, not anyone else's. This was for me, and me alone. This was what I'd been waiting all those years for. To be real, to be wild and loud and free. And to have a hundred people yelling because they loved it.
Twenty-seven
F OR THE FIRST TIME, I truly got what the band was about. Each one of us had joined for a different reason. And each of us got a different payoff. Jerod could stand before the crowd like a pagan idol to be worshiped. Every girl in the place wanted to be with him. And every guy wanted his look, his moves, his voice, his godlike glow.
Butt wanted to smash and pound, like he had a Mack truck in each of his hands. Diesel engine stink, noise, and raw power.
Relly had his Ghost Metal.
And me?
I wanted to be part of something bigger than myself. And I got that. Of course, I also wanted to be near Relly. But the real payoff that night was to hear my words huge and heavy, blasting out of the speakers. Jerod sang and shouted, yelled and yowled. Only it was me, not him, the crowd was listening to. For once, my voice was really and truly heard.
We came down off the stage and it was like we really were gods. I mean, I still didn't understand about tetrads and ancient, secret powers. But this made sense. People loved us. We'd grabbed them and shook them and they wanted more. We didn't have to burst into flame or make the rains come. This was the real magic power. Bass, drums, guitar, and a voice. That's all we needed to be gods.
What happened right after is all a blur. I was so cranked up I hardly knew who I was. But I do know that Kruel and Unusual actually heard our set and they were just as stoked as the crowd. The singer asked Relly if we could do some more shows with them, in other towns. He talked about real money. Not just a little handful of sweaty five-dollar bills.
Then he said his manager was there and did we want to talk?
So we squeezed our way out of the back room and headed for a table. "He loved your set," the Kruel and Unusual drummer said. "He wants to talk about where you guys are heading."
I took one look and froze. This manager was a creepy-looking guy with mirror sunglasses on. He had a drink in front of him and a ring on every finger.
"It's
Kruel and Unusual was already there, hanging around the bar. For a big-name act, they were pretty friendly. The lead singer talked a little with Relly, about mikes and amps.
So we set up and watched the crowd come in. By the
time we were supposed to go on, the place was packed. The back room is where the stage is. There's a booth for the sound man and about as much room on the dance floor as in Relly's kitchen. In the back was a table where one of the Kruel and Unusual girlfriends was selling CDs and band T-shirts. By eleven o'clock we could hardly get through the crowd to the stage.
"All right," Jerod yelled, grabbing the mike stand with both hands. "We are Scorpio Bone and this is the end of the world as you know it." Butt gave us the four-count and off we went.
How good were we? Better than ever. How did the crowd like us? They screamed for three encores, and that's saying something for the opening band. Everyone came to see Kruel and Unusual, but they went away talking about Scorpio Bone.
We did all our best songs, which means all the ones I wrote the words to. With the crowd pushing up against the stage, with the noise ripping out of the amps like a horde of furious demons, with Jerod yelling my words, I thought nothing could ever be as good.
My Ibanez and me were like one body. And Relly's crushing riffs were mine too. Butt's bass drum pulsed in my brain. Jerod screamed words that I had written, or copied off old gravestones. And the whole crowd was mixed up in our rising, roaring tide.
I was back behind Relly and Jerod. Still, it felt like this was
my
night, not anyone else's. This was for me, and me alone. This was what I'd been waiting all those years for. To be real, to be wild and loud and free. And to have a hundred people yelling because they loved it.
Twenty-seven
F OR THE FIRST TIME, I truly got what the band was about. Each one of us had joined for a different reason. And each of us got a different payoff. Jerod could stand before the crowd like a pagan idol to be worshiped. Every girl in the place wanted to be with him. And every guy wanted his look, his moves, his voice, his godlike glow.
Butt wanted to smash and pound, like he had a Mack truck in each of his hands. Diesel engine stink, noise, and raw power.
Relly had his Ghost Metal.
And me?
I wanted to be part of something bigger than myself. And I got that. Of course, I also wanted to be near Relly. But the real payoff that night was to hear my words huge and heavy, blasting out of the speakers. Jerod sang and shouted, yelled and yowled. Only it was me, not him, the crowd was listening to. For once, my voice was really and truly heard.
We came down off the stage and it was like we really were gods. I mean, I still didn't understand about tetrads and ancient, secret powers. But this made sense. People loved us. We'd grabbed them and shook them and they wanted more. We didn't have to burst into flame or make the rains come. This was the real magic power. Bass, drums, guitar, and a voice. That's all we needed to be gods.
What happened right after is all a blur. I was so cranked up I hardly knew who I was. But I do know that Kruel and Unusual actually heard our set and they were just as stoked as the crowd. The singer asked Relly if we could do some more shows with them, in other towns. He talked about real money. Not just a little handful of sweaty five-dollar bills.
Then he said his manager was there and did we want to talk?
So we squeezed our way out of the back room and headed for a table. "He loved your set," the Kruel and Unusual drummer said. "He wants to talk about where you guys are heading."
I took one look and froze. This manager was a creepy-looking guy with mirror sunglasses on. He had a drink in front of him and a ring on every finger.
"It's
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