familiar scent of the place set me at ease straight away, the dark walls and wooden floor swallowing me up and making me part of it. The place had serious vibes. We went straight past the locker room through to the narrow stairs, and as I climbed them I could almost hear the footsteps of the legends that had taken those stairs before me. Before I knew it, I had pushed open the black double doors and stepped into the room.
It was like a church, but with a much lower ceiling and no pews: a long rectangle that led up to the altar (the altar obviously being the stage). The same rule applied to both places, too: you came here to worship. To the left, the bar was gleaming â lit up on the inside with dark red lights, the bar boys from the sixth form mooching around, waiting to be asked to serve. The doors were on the back of the room, where the wall curved âfor acousticsâ I was told. This curved back wall was covered in graffiti: bright and bold letters spelled out âThe Venue Presentsâ, outlines in glow paint, and then hundreds of signatures of bands underneath. I wasnât lying â this was the magical place of legends and heroes alike.
And I only lived ten minutes away.
There was already a lot of activity going on: roadies were carrying equipment around the stage, microphones had been placed, people were walking across the floor to the bar and going through doors to fetch things; some people were also stood down in the pit next to the stage. A metal fence that came up to just under my shoulder separated the pit from the stage, so that the bands couldnât get mauled by over-excited fans. The norm for me was to get to the front with Wes, to âthe cageâ, as we called it, and hang on to it for dear life for the night. Itâs the best place to be because itâs right in front of the bands. You do get crushed, because thereâs a surging crowd behind you and they are squishing you into a metal pole, but itâs worth it. Sometimes I think Iâm a bit of a music junkie, and I need to feel the music and have it blasting in my ears to feel secure, but Wes says he feels the same, so at least Iâm not alone. Itâs why we love gigging it so much â the atmosphere and the feeling you get, and sharing it with someone â itâs unreal. The only thing that could be better than being right at the front of the stage is being right there in the middle of it all; standing on the stage as they play around me. Thatâs my dream.
I looked at my watch and it was coming up to half seven. I didnât know if Jonah would be on time â I doubted he would be, so I reckoned I had time to go to the loos and check on my make-up and stuff. I turned around to see Wes explaining The Venue Presents wall to Emily, who was watching him talk with a small, satisfied smile on her face. See?
Everything goes according to plan.
I walked off, past a group of chemo girls (the ânext big thingâ, apparently â a fusion of emo and chav. Sounds useless to me. Depressed Chavs? Nuh-uh. Not good) who had just walked in, giggling and dressed in black with Nike wrist bands, baseball hats and trainers. I realized that one of them was Hannah Eveleigh, a loud-mouthed, outspoken blonde girl that I know from down my road, so I quickly ducked my head and made my way over to the girlsâ loos on the other side of the room, which was next to a door marked âPrivateâ.
I pushed the door open and stepped inside. The toilets are a little bit grim, but they have this amazing huge mirror over the taps thatâs on a bit of a slant, so you can see your entire body if you back off a bit. I reapplied my lip gloss â a girl can never have enough lip gloss â and had a good look at myself in the mirror. The girl I saw looking back at me looked nervous. She was chewing her lip and her eyes were wide. Then I realized I was a little bit nervous. But also excited. Both feelings were
It was like a church, but with a much lower ceiling and no pews: a long rectangle that led up to the altar (the altar obviously being the stage). The same rule applied to both places, too: you came here to worship. To the left, the bar was gleaming â lit up on the inside with dark red lights, the bar boys from the sixth form mooching around, waiting to be asked to serve. The doors were on the back of the room, where the wall curved âfor acousticsâ I was told. This curved back wall was covered in graffiti: bright and bold letters spelled out âThe Venue Presentsâ, outlines in glow paint, and then hundreds of signatures of bands underneath. I wasnât lying â this was the magical place of legends and heroes alike.
And I only lived ten minutes away.
There was already a lot of activity going on: roadies were carrying equipment around the stage, microphones had been placed, people were walking across the floor to the bar and going through doors to fetch things; some people were also stood down in the pit next to the stage. A metal fence that came up to just under my shoulder separated the pit from the stage, so that the bands couldnât get mauled by over-excited fans. The norm for me was to get to the front with Wes, to âthe cageâ, as we called it, and hang on to it for dear life for the night. Itâs the best place to be because itâs right in front of the bands. You do get crushed, because thereâs a surging crowd behind you and they are squishing you into a metal pole, but itâs worth it. Sometimes I think Iâm a bit of a music junkie, and I need to feel the music and have it blasting in my ears to feel secure, but Wes says he feels the same, so at least Iâm not alone. Itâs why we love gigging it so much â the atmosphere and the feeling you get, and sharing it with someone â itâs unreal. The only thing that could be better than being right at the front of the stage is being right there in the middle of it all; standing on the stage as they play around me. Thatâs my dream.
I looked at my watch and it was coming up to half seven. I didnât know if Jonah would be on time â I doubted he would be, so I reckoned I had time to go to the loos and check on my make-up and stuff. I turned around to see Wes explaining The Venue Presents wall to Emily, who was watching him talk with a small, satisfied smile on her face. See?
Everything goes according to plan.
I walked off, past a group of chemo girls (the ânext big thingâ, apparently â a fusion of emo and chav. Sounds useless to me. Depressed Chavs? Nuh-uh. Not good) who had just walked in, giggling and dressed in black with Nike wrist bands, baseball hats and trainers. I realized that one of them was Hannah Eveleigh, a loud-mouthed, outspoken blonde girl that I know from down my road, so I quickly ducked my head and made my way over to the girlsâ loos on the other side of the room, which was next to a door marked âPrivateâ.
I pushed the door open and stepped inside. The toilets are a little bit grim, but they have this amazing huge mirror over the taps thatâs on a bit of a slant, so you can see your entire body if you back off a bit. I reapplied my lip gloss â a girl can never have enough lip gloss â and had a good look at myself in the mirror. The girl I saw looking back at me looked nervous. She was chewing her lip and her eyes were wide. Then I realized I was a little bit nervous. But also excited. Both feelings were
Similar Books
