Alive
Can You Feel It?
Backstage was always a mess before a show. Roadies were everywhere - fixing guitars, running on and off the stage to set up the drums, microphones and amps, doing sound checks as the crowd stood around the floor, chattering anxiously. I fidgeted restlessly, messing with my dyed jet-black hair, resisting the urge to run to a mirror and make sure it looked okay before I charged onstage in front of thousands upon thousands of people. I probably shouldn’t have been worried, though, people generally don’t care if a rock star’s hair look perfect or not, especially mine, seeing as the style I wore it in could only be defined as “messy.” Nevertheless, I gave it a good shake to make sure it didn’t look too ridiculous.
I straightened myself up as a blonde-haired man approached me to place my microphone around my ear. Of course, I always had the stand, but this made it possible to sing and play guitar at the same time, (not to mention the fact that I quite enjoyed running all over the entire stage, and more than occasionally out into the stands.) I hummed to myself, trying to not seem impatient, as he finished with the final adjustments, making sure everything was hooked up properly. I thanked him causally, then sauntered over to the rest of my bandmates standing around, ready to go.
Mike handed me a shot glass filled with clear vodka, and I grinned at him and Tre, raising it in a silent toast. They mirrored me, and at the same time, all three of us downed our shots. The liquid made my throat burn, and it felt like had just swallowed a small bonfire that was now warming up the contents of my stomach. I threw down the glass somewhere, (I could always buy another one,) and looked at the two blue-eyed boys in front of me.
“Best show yet?” I asked retorically, my lips twisted into a half smile, half smirk.
“Best show yet.” Mike echoed back.
“Let’s fuckin’ do this!” Tre shouted, grabbing his drumsticks and sprinting to the edge of the stage where a roadie waited to give him his cue. Mike grinned toothily, sauntering over to the roadie who was holding his bass. I went over to the opposite side of where Mike and Tre were, grabbing my guitar from the roadie who was waiting for me. He did a few last checks on my guitar and mic, then I saw the lights dim overhead in the venue, and the crowd let out a huge, crecendoing, collective scream. My heart beat just a bit faster and my cheeks flushed pink, and I took a huge calming breath in. The alcohol was already starting to have an effect on me, and I could feel that nervousness I always got before a show start to ebb away, but not completely. I still felt that wonderful tingling sensation from my fingertips all the way to the beating of my heart, and I couldn’t help but smile. It was like this every time, ever since our first shows back in Rodeo as Sweet Children; that rush of adrenaline I’d feel running through my body just waiting to explode.
The roadie nodded at me, and I started singing loudly and clearly, still backstage, the lights still off with the arena pitch black, fans screaming their heads off. I would say they felt more excited that I was, but it was never true. I was elated.
“Sing us the song of the century,
It’s louder than bombs and eternity.”
I heard a hush fall over the stadium, and I could just imagine all of their faces out there, lit up even in the inky dark, grinning up at the stage. I smiled, myself, and continued singing, letting the melody roll off my tongue, pausing inbetween verses just to hear the crowd scream. Jason nodded at me just before he stepped onto the stage, the LED background slowly lighting up as he took his place. I heard the first guitar riffs of our first song of the night, and my heart skipped a beat. This was it.
“Fuck yes!” Tre Cool screamed over the deafening sounds of the crowd mixed in with the music coming from the speakers, and he sprinted out onto the stage, drumsticks clutched tightly in his right hand. I could just see his blue eyes wide with childish excitement as he stood on the platform, arms outstretched before the massive audience in front of him. Tre always loved putting on a show, being the center of attention - I think that was part of the reason why he loved live shows so much.
After Tre raced over to his drum set, Mike jumped out after him to take his signature place on the left side of the stage. I was sure he was grinning his usual wide grin that I loved to see on his face, his eyes simply dancing with excitement as he clutched his bass in his hands. The complete raw emotions that you felt on stage were enough to make anyone’s face light up, and it made his shine unlike anyone I’d seen before. I heard him strum along in tune with Jason and Tre, and I felt a wave of joyousness and excitement. This is what we loved for. This is why we loved what we did.
I peered around the corner at the stage, taking in a deep breath. It was my moment now. My moment to walk out onto that stage and greet the thousands of people that had come to see us. My moment to go out there, and put on a show. All eyes on me.
Mentally bracing myself, I grabbed my guitar by the neck, the bass drum Tre was playing seeming to beat in time with my own heart; and dived.
I was greeted with a flash of blinding lights and a wave of heat and roaring sound. I rushed out onto the middle platform, staring out at the millions of faces peering up at me, hands in the air, jumping up and down on their toes to the beat. I grinned, lifting my arms up into the air, pressing my lips against the microphone in front of me.
“Are you ready?” my voice thundered throughout the very depths of the arena. The audience answered with a deafening roar, and I felt at one with them, my band, the sound, the energy. The feeling coursed through my veins like a pulsating energy, filling my body like lightning. I smiled as wide as I could ever, sweat already starting to form on my brow. I breathed in deep, and I felt alive. This was my home, my heaven, and it always would be.
I strummed the first chord of the song, and fell deep into the only true bliss in this life.
I straightened myself up as a blonde-haired man approached me to place my microphone around my ear. Of course, I always had the stand, but this made it possible to sing and play guitar at the same time, (not to mention the fact that I quite enjoyed running all over the entire stage, and more than occasionally out into the stands.) I hummed to myself, trying to not seem impatient, as he finished with the final adjustments, making sure everything was hooked up properly. I thanked him causally, then sauntered over to the rest of my bandmates standing around, ready to go.
Mike handed me a shot glass filled with clear vodka, and I grinned at him and Tre, raising it in a silent toast. They mirrored me, and at the same time, all three of us downed our shots. The liquid made my throat burn, and it felt like had just swallowed a small bonfire that was now warming up the contents of my stomach. I threw down the glass somewhere, (I could always buy another one,) and looked at the two blue-eyed boys in front of me.
“Best show yet?” I asked retorically, my lips twisted into a half smile, half smirk.
“Best show yet.” Mike echoed back.
“Let’s fuckin’ do this!” Tre shouted, grabbing his drumsticks and sprinting to the edge of the stage where a roadie waited to give him his cue. Mike grinned toothily, sauntering over to the roadie who was holding his bass. I went over to the opposite side of where Mike and Tre were, grabbing my guitar from the roadie who was waiting for me. He did a few last checks on my guitar and mic, then I saw the lights dim overhead in the venue, and the crowd let out a huge, crecendoing, collective scream. My heart beat just a bit faster and my cheeks flushed pink, and I took a huge calming breath in. The alcohol was already starting to have an effect on me, and I could feel that nervousness I always got before a show start to ebb away, but not completely. I still felt that wonderful tingling sensation from my fingertips all the way to the beating of my heart, and I couldn’t help but smile. It was like this every time, ever since our first shows back in Rodeo as Sweet Children; that rush of adrenaline I’d feel running through my body just waiting to explode.
The roadie nodded at me, and I started singing loudly and clearly, still backstage, the lights still off with the arena pitch black, fans screaming their heads off. I would say they felt more excited that I was, but it was never true. I was elated.
“Sing us the song of the century,
It’s louder than bombs and eternity.”
I heard a hush fall over the stadium, and I could just imagine all of their faces out there, lit up even in the inky dark, grinning up at the stage. I smiled, myself, and continued singing, letting the melody roll off my tongue, pausing inbetween verses just to hear the crowd scream. Jason nodded at me just before he stepped onto the stage, the LED background slowly lighting up as he took his place. I heard the first guitar riffs of our first song of the night, and my heart skipped a beat. This was it.
“Fuck yes!” Tre Cool screamed over the deafening sounds of the crowd mixed in with the music coming from the speakers, and he sprinted out onto the stage, drumsticks clutched tightly in his right hand. I could just see his blue eyes wide with childish excitement as he stood on the platform, arms outstretched before the massive audience in front of him. Tre always loved putting on a show, being the center of attention - I think that was part of the reason why he loved live shows so much.
After Tre raced over to his drum set, Mike jumped out after him to take his signature place on the left side of the stage. I was sure he was grinning his usual wide grin that I loved to see on his face, his eyes simply dancing with excitement as he clutched his bass in his hands. The complete raw emotions that you felt on stage were enough to make anyone’s face light up, and it made his shine unlike anyone I’d seen before. I heard him strum along in tune with Jason and Tre, and I felt a wave of joyousness and excitement. This is what we loved for. This is why we loved what we did.
I peered around the corner at the stage, taking in a deep breath. It was my moment now. My moment to walk out onto that stage and greet the thousands of people that had come to see us. My moment to go out there, and put on a show. All eyes on me.
Mentally bracing myself, I grabbed my guitar by the neck, the bass drum Tre was playing seeming to beat in time with my own heart; and dived.
I was greeted with a flash of blinding lights and a wave of heat and roaring sound. I rushed out onto the middle platform, staring out at the millions of faces peering up at me, hands in the air, jumping up and down on their toes to the beat. I grinned, lifting my arms up into the air, pressing my lips against the microphone in front of me.
“Are you ready?” my voice thundered throughout the very depths of the arena. The audience answered with a deafening roar, and I felt at one with them, my band, the sound, the energy. The feeling coursed through my veins like a pulsating energy, filling my body like lightning. I smiled as wide as I could ever, sweat already starting to form on my brow. I breathed in deep, and I felt alive. This was my home, my heaven, and it always would be.
I strummed the first chord of the song, and fell deep into the only true bliss in this life.