How Could You Cry for Me?
The Five of Us Are Dying
“I’m just a man, not a hero…” he had sung to the four of us.
“It’s to much of an anthem.”
“You think?” Gerard had asked us, looking only slightly dismayed. We all knew he had always wanted to be Freddie Mercury, but infused with some weird like punk-Morrissey figure. I myself blame the comic books, but nobody listens to the younger brother. No, nobody wants to hear the younger brother’s opinions.
“Yeah,” I shrugged and he ran his hands through stringy black hair, “It’s good though. Kinda…Queen meets Green Day?”
His dismayed expression went completely away at this point. Green Day and Queen. You couldn’t get better than that unless you added the Smiths, the Misfits and the X-Men into the picture. He’s such a nerd.
“Yeah I agree,” Frank nodded, “I like the title though.”
“It’s cool,” Ray had agreed, leaning back and putting his hands behind his head, or excuse me, hair I meant, “There could be some cool guitar stuff around that, y’know?”
“Yeah,” Gerard had nodded at all of us. It was just lyrics, set to a song that sounded like the soundtrack to a heavy, win-me-an-Oscar movie, the type that Martin Scorsese would direct and cast like…motherfucking Jared Leto to play the lead or whatever.
I had pushed my glasses up on my nose and crossed my legs at this point, ready to settle into the woodwork with Bob, not interested in putting much input into this song. It was like so many others, it would come and go with the tides of Gerard’s mind. Nothing would become of it, except maybe a few lyrics. The whole theme of carrying on was kinda a good idea, but then again how many of our songs were already about people dying and their loved ones left on earth getting over it and ‘carrying on’? Yeah, I think that ratio was about 2:3 but who’s counting?
**
This had been almost two years ago and even as we wandered up the stairs of the Reprise Records’ in LA, that stupid song hadn’t gone away. It had emerged into something to big for it’s own good, no longer just a random riff and verse played around with but nearly a full-blown demo. It was like…well I actually didn’t know what it was like ‘cause I had never experienced anything like this. It was good, yeah, but it annoyed me. We had demos and we had songs but we didn’t have any random half-songs wandering around like zombies or anything.
“We’ll carry…we’ll carry on,” Gerard muttered and Frank hummed along.
“Morning boys,” came a friendly smile from the receptionist while we passed her.
“Morning Gina,” the five of us responded in unison. Yes, the five of us. We were not dying, maybe that was why I hated that damned song so much. The Five of Us Are Dying. It was just like, God Gerard we understand you’re a gothpunkemo icon now or something but not everything is dying. Well actually, I take that back. If you are my brother than everything is already dead. So yeah, the five of us are dying, I’m sorry large fan base but your favorite band’s lead singer would rather kill himself and all the members of his band instead of doing something useful and writing more records.
Oh how I love my brother.
**
“We wanna work with Rob Cavallo,” Gerard said and I nodded.
“Yeah we like him.”
“Well we like Green Day,” Frank put in. At this point, it was spring. Frank’s hair always gets longer in the summer, don’t ask me why, but it does. Some girl on the street had kindly pointed out to us how much more flippy it looked than normal. Ray had asked if his ‘fro had looked poofier and the girl had smiled and said yes—it did but I restrained from asking her if she liked my glasses. It didn’t matter, I planned on getting Lasik just as soon as possible, I just hadn’t had any time at that point. I had a life now and I was just getting used to it, regardless of whether or not I had had it for two years. I hated my life though, I hated being on stage and in front of people. I wasn’t like that, especially after it was agreed that there would be substantially less alcohol on the bus. That meant I couldn’t get drunk before shows. Gerard and I had always been drunk but since last August, goodbye drinking partner. He had adapted but me…oh well I hung back next to Bob.
“They recommended him to us,” Gerard smiled.
“Yup,” the rest of us chorused.
“Fine,” the man behind the table smiled at us, “he’s mentioned something about you guys lately.”
“And we have permission!” Frank laughed, “Billie Joe said we should talk to him.”
“Which means we wait a bit longer for the new Green Day album…” I said pointedly.
“Fuck Green Day,” Gerard looked at me with a laugh, “I wanna write a new record!”
“Fine,” I shrugged lets do it.
We never set out to write Three More Cheers for Sweet Revenge, but in the beginning I don’t think we set out to write The Black Parade either. The rest of them, Bob, Ray, Frank and Gerard, they seemed excited enough—what was there to loose at this point? If we fell on our asses, there were diehards who loved us more than we did. But I still had a bad feeling about the entire thing. It just seemed so…well I dunno. Let’s be honest, it just scared me.
“It’s to much of an anthem.”
“You think?” Gerard had asked us, looking only slightly dismayed. We all knew he had always wanted to be Freddie Mercury, but infused with some weird like punk-Morrissey figure. I myself blame the comic books, but nobody listens to the younger brother. No, nobody wants to hear the younger brother’s opinions.
“Yeah,” I shrugged and he ran his hands through stringy black hair, “It’s good though. Kinda…Queen meets Green Day?”
His dismayed expression went completely away at this point. Green Day and Queen. You couldn’t get better than that unless you added the Smiths, the Misfits and the X-Men into the picture. He’s such a nerd.
“Yeah I agree,” Frank nodded, “I like the title though.”
“It’s cool,” Ray had agreed, leaning back and putting his hands behind his head, or excuse me, hair I meant, “There could be some cool guitar stuff around that, y’know?”
“Yeah,” Gerard had nodded at all of us. It was just lyrics, set to a song that sounded like the soundtrack to a heavy, win-me-an-Oscar movie, the type that Martin Scorsese would direct and cast like…motherfucking Jared Leto to play the lead or whatever.
I had pushed my glasses up on my nose and crossed my legs at this point, ready to settle into the woodwork with Bob, not interested in putting much input into this song. It was like so many others, it would come and go with the tides of Gerard’s mind. Nothing would become of it, except maybe a few lyrics. The whole theme of carrying on was kinda a good idea, but then again how many of our songs were already about people dying and their loved ones left on earth getting over it and ‘carrying on’? Yeah, I think that ratio was about 2:3 but who’s counting?
**
This had been almost two years ago and even as we wandered up the stairs of the Reprise Records’ in LA, that stupid song hadn’t gone away. It had emerged into something to big for it’s own good, no longer just a random riff and verse played around with but nearly a full-blown demo. It was like…well I actually didn’t know what it was like ‘cause I had never experienced anything like this. It was good, yeah, but it annoyed me. We had demos and we had songs but we didn’t have any random half-songs wandering around like zombies or anything.
“We’ll carry…we’ll carry on,” Gerard muttered and Frank hummed along.
“Morning boys,” came a friendly smile from the receptionist while we passed her.
“Morning Gina,” the five of us responded in unison. Yes, the five of us. We were not dying, maybe that was why I hated that damned song so much. The Five of Us Are Dying. It was just like, God Gerard we understand you’re a gothpunkemo icon now or something but not everything is dying. Well actually, I take that back. If you are my brother than everything is already dead. So yeah, the five of us are dying, I’m sorry large fan base but your favorite band’s lead singer would rather kill himself and all the members of his band instead of doing something useful and writing more records.
Oh how I love my brother.
**
“We wanna work with Rob Cavallo,” Gerard said and I nodded.
“Yeah we like him.”
“Well we like Green Day,” Frank put in. At this point, it was spring. Frank’s hair always gets longer in the summer, don’t ask me why, but it does. Some girl on the street had kindly pointed out to us how much more flippy it looked than normal. Ray had asked if his ‘fro had looked poofier and the girl had smiled and said yes—it did but I restrained from asking her if she liked my glasses. It didn’t matter, I planned on getting Lasik just as soon as possible, I just hadn’t had any time at that point. I had a life now and I was just getting used to it, regardless of whether or not I had had it for two years. I hated my life though, I hated being on stage and in front of people. I wasn’t like that, especially after it was agreed that there would be substantially less alcohol on the bus. That meant I couldn’t get drunk before shows. Gerard and I had always been drunk but since last August, goodbye drinking partner. He had adapted but me…oh well I hung back next to Bob.
“They recommended him to us,” Gerard smiled.
“Yup,” the rest of us chorused.
“Fine,” the man behind the table smiled at us, “he’s mentioned something about you guys lately.”
“And we have permission!” Frank laughed, “Billie Joe said we should talk to him.”
“Which means we wait a bit longer for the new Green Day album…” I said pointedly.
“Fuck Green Day,” Gerard looked at me with a laugh, “I wanna write a new record!”
“Fine,” I shrugged lets do it.
We never set out to write Three More Cheers for Sweet Revenge, but in the beginning I don’t think we set out to write The Black Parade either. The rest of them, Bob, Ray, Frank and Gerard, they seemed excited enough—what was there to loose at this point? If we fell on our asses, there were diehards who loved us more than we did. But I still had a bad feeling about the entire thing. It just seemed so…well I dunno. Let’s be honest, it just scared me.