Hey Kid, Take the Stage and Deliver

Some people are born to perform.

Others do it for the thrill, the adrenaline rush that being in front of thousands of screaming people brings.

Me? I do it because I love it.

At first it was part of the job; just another one of those things that you were required to do when you made it big in the music business.

Yeah, we sucked when we started playing live gigs, I’ll admit that. But so what if Brendon’s voice was a little shaky from nerves or Ryan tensed up and didn’t move during the whole thing, save for his arms and hands? So what if Jon missed a couple of notes here and there, and so what if I almost dropped a drumstick a couple of times or messed up the rhythm slightly? We were young and inexperienced, and to be signed to a record label before we had ever played any shows kinda threw us a bit.

But hey, practice makes perfect, right?

And so we did.

We practiced every fucking day until Brendon’s voice grew hoarse, Jon could play with his eyes shut and standing on his head (not that he tried, much to Brendon's disappointment), Ryan’s fingers were red and raw and my arms and legs no longer felt like they were attached to my body. Every single fucking day. But it was worth it.

By the time we were a week or two into our very first North American headlining tour, we were proudly able to say that we could put on a pretty damn good show, despite the fact that Mr. Perfectionist – aka, my best friend since childhood, Ryan Ross – still complained about tiny things that weren’t the way he wanted them to be. I felt sorry for Brendon sometimes; it could take a while before he would get “a certain vocal characteristic” right, and they would often argue about the smallest things. I mean, who argues about bells, for fuck’s sake? Small, tinkly bells that hardly anyone noticed? They did. Jon and I were often on the sidelines, watching with amused expressions on our faces. But I could understand where Ryan was coming from; after all, he wrote the songs.

Eventually, he was able to settle down a bit and even started to enjoy himself on stage. We all loved it, especially Brendon. As the front man, he was able to strut around and interact with Ryan, Jon and the performers that were travelling with us, causing young teenage girls to yell his name and swoon in jealousy. And he loved it, soaking up every moment, every breath, every scream. He was one of those people who belonged in the ‘born to perform’ category, stealing the limelight wherever he went.

On the other hand, Jon was someone who didn’t care what instrument or position in the band he had, just so long as he got to play. And man, could he play. Bass, guitar, piano and he could sing, too. He was content to just stand on the side and let the attention fall on others. He often gave me smiles and laughs whenever Brendon did anything outgoing, and did whatever he damn well wanted. Whether it be standing still near his keyboard that was set up, head banging along and ‘rocking out’ or exchanging a few word with me in between songs, he never felt any pressure to act or be a certain way. Jon was one of the most laid back people I knew.

And then, last but not least, me. Spencer. The baby of the group. The guy who sat behind his drum kit at the back of the stage next to the giant windmill and moon with a moustache. But I didn’t complain. I had one of the best views on stage. Not of everyone’s ass, but of the crowd. Sometimes the sheer size of it scared me and I had to focus on my kit or stare at either the back of Brendon’s head or my best friend’s face covered in his stage make up. It was moments like those that made me realise just how far we had come in such a short amount of time. It made me feel special to be able to say that I was a part of this – especially at such a young age – and even more so because this was the first time that something like this had ever happened to me. To be able to have gotten this far without a fall back was incredible, and I lived in every moment, loving the way my custom-made drums lit up, the noise and energy of the crowd as we went through our set list and even the way that my sweaty shirt stuck to my back, sometimes making it awkward for me to move my arms. It made it feel so much more real, and reassured me that I was living in reality and not about to wake up from an amazing dream. Performing on stage seemed to change people, and I loved the way it turned me from an ordinary 18 year old into the drummer of one of the country’s best new bands.

***

The ten minute call came.

People were everywhere, scurrying about like ants. Jon was trying to find his other shoe, Brendon was doing up his shirt buttons and Ryan was off vomiting his guts up. Nerves, apparently; though you’d think he’d be used to it by now. I sat on one of the vacant lounges in the backstage room where we all hung out, twirling my drum sticks and watching as our keyboardist, Eric, and our cellist, Bartram, got the finishing touches of their make up done. Our three circus performers flitted in and out, making sure the rest of their costumes were ready for their quick changes, and our body guard Zack made sure every one was getting organised and ready.

There was a faint gurgling noise, and I heard the bathroom door open as a slightly pale Ryan entered the room, giving me a faint smile as he saw me looking at him.

“What, ready to go already, Spence?” he asked.

“Yup,” I replied, drumming out a heavy rhythm on my knees that was sure to leave bruises later on. I cocked my head. “Birds tonight, eh?” I asked, referring to his now famous stage make up. He grinned.

“Yeah. Something other than swirls.”

“FIVE MINUTES!”

“Shit!” Ryan cursed before dashing off in a hurry with one hand plastered to his head, trying to smooth down his already-styled bangs.

“Fuck! Spencer, have you seen my other shoe?” Jon yelled as he raced past me, dodging Brendon who was mimicking opera in an attempt to warm up his voice. I broke my drumming beat to point under a chair with one of my sticks. Spinning the other in my hand, I stood up and began making the necessary checks before we went out. I shoved my drum sticks into the pocket of my pants just as Ryan slipped on his pair of white fingerless gloves. Our eyes met, and we shared a quick glance.

“ONE MINUTE!”

The rest of the guys and I moved out the door to stand side stage in the wings. I could hear the crowd screaming in excitement, and my body buzzed in expectation. I could see the others readying themselves for the moment when we would walk out. Brendon bounced around energetically.

And then it was time.

The yells and screams of the crowd intensified, and I grinned happily, giving the side-stage crew high fives with an excited “Yeah!” as I walked past them. I threaded my way through the now familiar set up and sat my ass down behind my drum kit. I could already tell that the crowd tonight would be amazing. Adrenaline had replaced the blood in my veins, making me shift my weight on my stool in anticipation.

The first notes of our introductory instrumental started. On the outside I may have looked like I was concentrating on getting the beats and rhythms right, but on the inside, I was like a fucking five year old on a sugar high. This was where I belonged; right here, right now, living in the moment. I sure as hell was going to live in that moment for as long as I fucking could. And nothing could ever take me away.