really familiar. I stop
walking and Lauren does too. I listen as he sings, trying to place the lyrics.
Looking at the sky, something for the eye.
Trying to forget, what hasn’t happened yet.
I think I’m going to be a long time…
I think I’m going to be a long time coming down.
Suddenly, I recognize the song and it feels like the
world stops. I no longer hear the cars and busses or remain aware of the other
people walking by. There’s just the song and, inside my mind, the image of the
woman who once fronted a band that broke up almost twenty years ago. A woman no
one has heard from since.
This time I don’t think to leave any money in his case. I
start walking fast back toward where we left the bus. All the same, he calls
out, “Keep the faith, my man.”
A moment later, Lauren catches up to me. She grabs my
elbow and I stop. I turn to face her.
Lauren looks into my eyes. “What just happened?”
“I know who she is,” I say. “Remember Purge?”
“The band?”
I nod. “Right, the band. Purge”
“Holy shit,” she says. “This just keeps getting more
cool.”
11
Facebook Friends
in Music City
We sit in the van, engine running and windows down while we
wait for something resembling AC to kick in. The VW bus is old and even though
it’s been nicely restored it’s still not up for a summer afternoon in Charlotte,
North Carolina. My shirt sticks to my back. Lauren’s face is sheened from the
walk back, especially after sprinting to catch up with me.
Now, I’m not sure why I started rushing back to the van.
I guess I just wanted to get somewhere to sort things out. But the VW bus only
offers a place to sit while the sun beats down on its roof. It’s not like I
know where to go.
“Do you really think it’s her?” Lauren says.
I can see her more clearly than ever now. Wild red hair
and intense green eyes I’ve seen so many times from old photos.
I nod. “Jessica Malcom,” I say. “I’m sure.”
Why I hadn’t realized before amazes me on one level but
makes perfect sense on another. I just haven’t thought about Purge in a long
time. I used to listen to them when I was first learning to play, trying to get
that same raw, honest sound to come out of my guitar. They were a very cool
band and Jessica Malcom’s voice had cut like a knife. But a million other bands
have come along since. Over time, I almost forgot this band that broke up
before I was even born.
Lauren takes out her phone and starts tapping at the
screen. I know what she’s doing but I also know she won’t find anything. I have
no doubt about it. It wasn’t so much that Purge had been forgotten. They had
their place in history, definitely. They’d kicked ass, even though they’d just
been an indie band out of Boston. They’d also been influential. In fact, Frank
Black from the Pixies mentioned a few times how Purge had helped shape their
sound. The two bands had even toured together. Who knows, maybe Purge would
have been bigger than the Pixies, or even Nirvana, if they’d kept going. Word
was they’d been about to sign with a major label when something derailed them.
No one really knew what happened. Sure, there was
speculation about band members not getting along, drugs, all kinds of stuff.
But the only thing known for sure is that one of the coolest indie bands from
that era suddenly called it quits. What was weird, though, was that the lead
singer and songwriter, Jessica Malcom, totally vanished. No one seemed to know
where she’d ended up.
Now, here she was seemingly calling out to me from
wherever she’d gone—which made no sense at all. Could I really have somehow
ended up with her guitar? Freaking cool beyond belief, but still. How could
that have happened?
“Tohru says maybe she can help,” Lauren says.
Only then, it occurs to me that Lauren was texting rather
than randomly researching. “Who’s Tohru?”
“Just a friend. Well, not just friend. She’s like us.”
I crack a
walking and Lauren does too. I listen as he sings, trying to place the lyrics.
Looking at the sky, something for the eye.
Trying to forget, what hasn’t happened yet.
I think I’m going to be a long time…
I think I’m going to be a long time coming down.
Suddenly, I recognize the song and it feels like the
world stops. I no longer hear the cars and busses or remain aware of the other
people walking by. There’s just the song and, inside my mind, the image of the
woman who once fronted a band that broke up almost twenty years ago. A woman no
one has heard from since.
This time I don’t think to leave any money in his case. I
start walking fast back toward where we left the bus. All the same, he calls
out, “Keep the faith, my man.”
A moment later, Lauren catches up to me. She grabs my
elbow and I stop. I turn to face her.
Lauren looks into my eyes. “What just happened?”
“I know who she is,” I say. “Remember Purge?”
“The band?”
I nod. “Right, the band. Purge”
“Holy shit,” she says. “This just keeps getting more
cool.”
11
Facebook Friends
in Music City
We sit in the van, engine running and windows down while we
wait for something resembling AC to kick in. The VW bus is old and even though
it’s been nicely restored it’s still not up for a summer afternoon in Charlotte,
North Carolina. My shirt sticks to my back. Lauren’s face is sheened from the
walk back, especially after sprinting to catch up with me.
Now, I’m not sure why I started rushing back to the van.
I guess I just wanted to get somewhere to sort things out. But the VW bus only
offers a place to sit while the sun beats down on its roof. It’s not like I
know where to go.
“Do you really think it’s her?” Lauren says.
I can see her more clearly than ever now. Wild red hair
and intense green eyes I’ve seen so many times from old photos.
I nod. “Jessica Malcom,” I say. “I’m sure.”
Why I hadn’t realized before amazes me on one level but
makes perfect sense on another. I just haven’t thought about Purge in a long
time. I used to listen to them when I was first learning to play, trying to get
that same raw, honest sound to come out of my guitar. They were a very cool
band and Jessica Malcom’s voice had cut like a knife. But a million other bands
have come along since. Over time, I almost forgot this band that broke up
before I was even born.
Lauren takes out her phone and starts tapping at the
screen. I know what she’s doing but I also know she won’t find anything. I have
no doubt about it. It wasn’t so much that Purge had been forgotten. They had
their place in history, definitely. They’d kicked ass, even though they’d just
been an indie band out of Boston. They’d also been influential. In fact, Frank
Black from the Pixies mentioned a few times how Purge had helped shape their
sound. The two bands had even toured together. Who knows, maybe Purge would
have been bigger than the Pixies, or even Nirvana, if they’d kept going. Word
was they’d been about to sign with a major label when something derailed them.
No one really knew what happened. Sure, there was
speculation about band members not getting along, drugs, all kinds of stuff.
But the only thing known for sure is that one of the coolest indie bands from
that era suddenly called it quits. What was weird, though, was that the lead
singer and songwriter, Jessica Malcom, totally vanished. No one seemed to know
where she’d ended up.
Now, here she was seemingly calling out to me from
wherever she’d gone—which made no sense at all. Could I really have somehow
ended up with her guitar? Freaking cool beyond belief, but still. How could
that have happened?
“Tohru says maybe she can help,” Lauren says.
Only then, it occurs to me that Lauren was texting rather
than randomly researching. “Who’s Tohru?”
“Just a friend. Well, not just friend. She’s like us.”
I crack a
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