‹ Prequel: Changes
Making the Album
Funeral.
The church had an entirely different atmosphere today. On Tony and Billie's wedding day, it had radiated joy and love. But today, today it was solemn and sorrowful. The priest was young, sporting a tangled mass of dreadlocks and a nose ring. He promised them twenty minutes for a guitar solo, although Tony fully intended to stretch it into forty. Tre had heard her practicing; he knew that today, Tony would be playing a melody that she had created herself.
Tony was writing a requiem; Tony was trying her damnedest to mourn properly, when inside all she wanted to do was scream and scream and break things, as she had done that day in the hospital. She wanted so badly to let herself shatter, but she couldn't. If she shattered, then Billie would shatter. And Tony didn't think she could bear seeing her husband cry again.
None of them were the same. Tre lacked his usual sunshine, Mike wasn't drinking any coffee. Billie hadn't picked up a guitar since leaving the hospital. Jay barely spoke anymore, and when he did, he lack all of his usual biting humor. Blondie was always clutching his drumsticks and he hadn't been eating properly. And Tom, Tom spent all of his time in his room, smoking joints and writing song lyrics on napkins and planning out bass tabs that didn't match them.
Even the weather seemed to be mourning Barry. Rain poured from the sky in buckets and not a single ray of light could be found.
Every last one of them wore a black suit. Billie wore his crimson red tie and converse. Tre's coat had tails, and the drummer wore a top hat. Mike's suit was simple and black, no frills, but he'd dyed his hair jet black to match. Jay had bought a new black leather jacket and black suit pants. His arm was in a sling. Rabbit was wearing Barry's leather jacket and a pair of jeans. His blue hair had gone fluffy from the rain. Blondie's suit didn't fit quite right and the drummer looked uncomfortable. The jacket strained over his broad shoulders and the sleeves were a bit too long. Tom wore a tuxedo and looked dashing, but the suit couldn't hide the raw grief that burned behind his eyes as he stood motionless, waiting for the hearse to pull up.
Tony wore a long corset gown. It was black and strapless, and at any other event she would have been vamping it up, flaunting the body encased in the tight black satin. But today she stood sedately beside her husband, his hand clasped in her own. She wore Barry's prized sunglasses pushed back on her forehead.
Tony squeezed her husband's hand.
"It's too nice of a day for a funeral." She said quietly.
---
There was an astonishing amount of rockstars there. Axl Rose came out of hiding, avoiding his former bandmates, now members of Velvet Revolver. Aerosmith was in attendance, looking cool as usual. Def Leppard took seats in the third row. Eric Clapton arrived with his guitar and gave Tony's shoulder a comforting squeeze. Motely Crue arrived, along with their entire road crew, who nodded sympathetically to the group before disappearing inside to fill almost an entire section of the church.
Tom Cruise arrived without his current girlfriend. Ron Jeremy made another appearance with a completely different pair of girls. Sum 41 arrived with respective girlfriends. Avril Lavigne and Tony embraced. Eminem arrived, bouncing his sweet little daughter in his tattooed arms. 50 Cent showed up with his posse and was admitted after Tre had removed all of their guns. Evanescene turned up; Amy Lee complemented Tony on her dress. Jimmy Page arrived with Robert Plant, both looking extremely cool as they swaggered into the church. Billie sulked because Robert Plant had whispered something into Tony's ear that had made her blush and giggle like schoolgirl. Robert was gawking after them with a silly grin on his face, tucking the autographed napkin into his pocket.
There were business executives, girls Barry had dated, men that had respected Barry. There were teachers Barry'd had in college, teachers that he'd had in preschool. But there were no family members to take up the casket when the time came.
And then there were the dedicated fans that were fiercly loyal to Green Day, who loved the band for reasons that no one understood but them. They were many and each unique in their own right. And every last one of them carried a red rose. Billie assumed that they must have arranged that on their own since he hadn't asked them to do it. He would have to check GSB later and see what had gone on. He noticed several girls were sporting t-shirts with the words 'Pantsing Mike Brigage' emblazoned across the front. Mike bowed to them.
And before the bassist realized what was happening, Jay stepped forward and pantsed Mike. The removal of the black pants revealed spectacular orange boxes with tiny hearts covering them. The girls burst into laughter while Mike affectionatly slapped his boyfriend.
Tony smiled suddenly, thinking that Barry would have laughed and laughed. He'd been that kind of guy.
Sure, it was an odd thing to do at a funeral, pantsing someone, but Tony had no doubt that Barry wouldn't have minded at all.
---
They carried the casket into the church. Tony started sobbing and her tears streamed unchecked down her cheeks. One of her hands held up the casket, and the other kept her dress in check. Jay used his one good hand to hold up the casket. His eyes were burning with hard fury. Tom trembling and Blondie had to take the casket with both hands so it wouldn't fall. Mike's face was expressionless, but so pale Billie was afraid his friend would faint. And Tre, Tre was bringing up the rear with a quiet dignity that no one had ever seen from him before.
After placing the casket down in front of the altar, they all piled into a pew. The priest did his thing on the altar, then Eric Clapton played 'Tears in Heaven', which made Tony sob onto Billie's shoulder. Tom slumped forward, head in his hands. Mike noticed that there were not many people with dry eyes in the chruch.
And then it was their turn. It was Green Day, onstage, for the first time since that last concert. They'd picked 'Homecoming', simply because Barry had once told them that he considered it to be one of the best songs he'd ever heard in his entire life.
Billie began first verse, feeling a lump in his throat. Tre rubbed his eyes and started a drumroll to help him focus, then launched into the song.
'My heart is beating from me / I am standing all alone / Please call me only if you are coming home / ...You taught me how to live... /'
He could see Tony in the first row, smiling through her tears.
In the streets of shame / Where you've lost your dreams in the rain / There's no sign of hope... /
The priest was headbanging, which made Tre giggle. He hadn't giggled in what seemed like forever.
What the hells your name / What's your pleasure and what's your pain? / Do you dream too much? / Do you think what you need is a crutch?
Mike started doing the little dance his fans affectionately called 'The Dirnt'. He heard some people cheer and smiled at them.
...Jimmy died today / He blew his brains out into the bay / In the state of mind in my own private suicide /
Billie didn't want to sing the next part. He didn't think it had any place in the funeral, but Mike nodded at him. So Billie cleared his throat and began.
And nobody cares / And nobody cares / Does anyone care if nobody cares?... / Jesus is filling out paperwork now / ...He's in his own world / And he's daydreaming /
Tre remembered that time he'd caught Barry daydreaming in the studio. Tre'd jerked his chair out from under him, and then Barry had chased him through the studio for nearly an hour before Tre managed to lose him by hiding in Mariah Carey's recording booth.
He'd rather be doing something else now... /
All those times Barry had walked into the apartment disheveled and exhausted, carrying that notepad. All those nights in the studio, mixing and remixing the album to get just the right sound. Barry had wanted them to succeed, Blondie thought, and wiped a tear from his cheek. And he'd put them first, before his own happiness.
...I just want to be free / Is there a possibility?... / ...This life like dream isn't for me /
Tre began a drumroll, keeping it tight. Rat-a-tat-tat, bam-bam-bam. Cymbal crash there. It was easier to pretend this wasn't Barry's funeral, that Barry wasn't gone, if he just concentrated on his drums.
I fell asleep while watching Spike TV / After 10 cups of coffee / And you're still not here / Dreaming of a song / When something went wrong / But I can't tell anyone / 'Cruz no one's here /
Those late nights in the studio. Smoking, drinking. Pretending that they were working. Jay sighed. Never again, most likely.
Left me here alone / When I should have stayed home / After 10 cups of coffee / I'm thinking / Where'd you go? /
Billie took a sweeping bow, then handed the microphone to Tre. He winked cheekily at his audience, then launched into his solo.
I got a rock and roll band / I got a rock and roll life / I got a rock and roll girlfriend / And another ex-wife / I got a rock and roll house / I got a rock and roll car / I play the shit out of the drums / And I can play the guitar / I got a kid in New York / I got a kid in the Bay / I haven't drank or smoked nothin' / In over 22 days / So get off of my case /
Tre tossed the microphone back to Billie, who caught it effortlessly and let out a war cry. His wife was dancing in the pew and he winked at her while she blew him kisses.
...So send my love a letterbomb / And visit me in hell / We're the ones going /
Deep breath, deep breath. Sing from your soul. Don't stop to think about whose in that coffin. That's just a box, just a box that's in your audience.
Home. / We're coming home again / I started fuckin' running / Just as soon as my feet touch ground / We're back in the barrio / But to you and me, that's Jingletown / Home. / We're coming home again.../
And the applause was deafening.
Tony was writing a requiem; Tony was trying her damnedest to mourn properly, when inside all she wanted to do was scream and scream and break things, as she had done that day in the hospital. She wanted so badly to let herself shatter, but she couldn't. If she shattered, then Billie would shatter. And Tony didn't think she could bear seeing her husband cry again.
None of them were the same. Tre lacked his usual sunshine, Mike wasn't drinking any coffee. Billie hadn't picked up a guitar since leaving the hospital. Jay barely spoke anymore, and when he did, he lack all of his usual biting humor. Blondie was always clutching his drumsticks and he hadn't been eating properly. And Tom, Tom spent all of his time in his room, smoking joints and writing song lyrics on napkins and planning out bass tabs that didn't match them.
Even the weather seemed to be mourning Barry. Rain poured from the sky in buckets and not a single ray of light could be found.
Every last one of them wore a black suit. Billie wore his crimson red tie and converse. Tre's coat had tails, and the drummer wore a top hat. Mike's suit was simple and black, no frills, but he'd dyed his hair jet black to match. Jay had bought a new black leather jacket and black suit pants. His arm was in a sling. Rabbit was wearing Barry's leather jacket and a pair of jeans. His blue hair had gone fluffy from the rain. Blondie's suit didn't fit quite right and the drummer looked uncomfortable. The jacket strained over his broad shoulders and the sleeves were a bit too long. Tom wore a tuxedo and looked dashing, but the suit couldn't hide the raw grief that burned behind his eyes as he stood motionless, waiting for the hearse to pull up.
Tony wore a long corset gown. It was black and strapless, and at any other event she would have been vamping it up, flaunting the body encased in the tight black satin. But today she stood sedately beside her husband, his hand clasped in her own. She wore Barry's prized sunglasses pushed back on her forehead.
Tony squeezed her husband's hand.
"It's too nice of a day for a funeral." She said quietly.
---
There was an astonishing amount of rockstars there. Axl Rose came out of hiding, avoiding his former bandmates, now members of Velvet Revolver. Aerosmith was in attendance, looking cool as usual. Def Leppard took seats in the third row. Eric Clapton arrived with his guitar and gave Tony's shoulder a comforting squeeze. Motely Crue arrived, along with their entire road crew, who nodded sympathetically to the group before disappearing inside to fill almost an entire section of the church.
Tom Cruise arrived without his current girlfriend. Ron Jeremy made another appearance with a completely different pair of girls. Sum 41 arrived with respective girlfriends. Avril Lavigne and Tony embraced. Eminem arrived, bouncing his sweet little daughter in his tattooed arms. 50 Cent showed up with his posse and was admitted after Tre had removed all of their guns. Evanescene turned up; Amy Lee complemented Tony on her dress. Jimmy Page arrived with Robert Plant, both looking extremely cool as they swaggered into the church. Billie sulked because Robert Plant had whispered something into Tony's ear that had made her blush and giggle like schoolgirl. Robert was gawking after them with a silly grin on his face, tucking the autographed napkin into his pocket.
There were business executives, girls Barry had dated, men that had respected Barry. There were teachers Barry'd had in college, teachers that he'd had in preschool. But there were no family members to take up the casket when the time came.
And then there were the dedicated fans that were fiercly loyal to Green Day, who loved the band for reasons that no one understood but them. They were many and each unique in their own right. And every last one of them carried a red rose. Billie assumed that they must have arranged that on their own since he hadn't asked them to do it. He would have to check GSB later and see what had gone on. He noticed several girls were sporting t-shirts with the words 'Pantsing Mike Brigage' emblazoned across the front. Mike bowed to them.
And before the bassist realized what was happening, Jay stepped forward and pantsed Mike. The removal of the black pants revealed spectacular orange boxes with tiny hearts covering them. The girls burst into laughter while Mike affectionatly slapped his boyfriend.
Tony smiled suddenly, thinking that Barry would have laughed and laughed. He'd been that kind of guy.
Sure, it was an odd thing to do at a funeral, pantsing someone, but Tony had no doubt that Barry wouldn't have minded at all.
---
They carried the casket into the church. Tony started sobbing and her tears streamed unchecked down her cheeks. One of her hands held up the casket, and the other kept her dress in check. Jay used his one good hand to hold up the casket. His eyes were burning with hard fury. Tom trembling and Blondie had to take the casket with both hands so it wouldn't fall. Mike's face was expressionless, but so pale Billie was afraid his friend would faint. And Tre, Tre was bringing up the rear with a quiet dignity that no one had ever seen from him before.
After placing the casket down in front of the altar, they all piled into a pew. The priest did his thing on the altar, then Eric Clapton played 'Tears in Heaven', which made Tony sob onto Billie's shoulder. Tom slumped forward, head in his hands. Mike noticed that there were not many people with dry eyes in the chruch.
And then it was their turn. It was Green Day, onstage, for the first time since that last concert. They'd picked 'Homecoming', simply because Barry had once told them that he considered it to be one of the best songs he'd ever heard in his entire life.
Billie began first verse, feeling a lump in his throat. Tre rubbed his eyes and started a drumroll to help him focus, then launched into the song.
'My heart is beating from me / I am standing all alone / Please call me only if you are coming home / ...You taught me how to live... /'
He could see Tony in the first row, smiling through her tears.
In the streets of shame / Where you've lost your dreams in the rain / There's no sign of hope... /
The priest was headbanging, which made Tre giggle. He hadn't giggled in what seemed like forever.
What the hells your name / What's your pleasure and what's your pain? / Do you dream too much? / Do you think what you need is a crutch?
Mike started doing the little dance his fans affectionately called 'The Dirnt'. He heard some people cheer and smiled at them.
...Jimmy died today / He blew his brains out into the bay / In the state of mind in my own private suicide /
Billie didn't want to sing the next part. He didn't think it had any place in the funeral, but Mike nodded at him. So Billie cleared his throat and began.
And nobody cares / And nobody cares / Does anyone care if nobody cares?... / Jesus is filling out paperwork now / ...He's in his own world / And he's daydreaming /
Tre remembered that time he'd caught Barry daydreaming in the studio. Tre'd jerked his chair out from under him, and then Barry had chased him through the studio for nearly an hour before Tre managed to lose him by hiding in Mariah Carey's recording booth.
He'd rather be doing something else now... /
All those times Barry had walked into the apartment disheveled and exhausted, carrying that notepad. All those nights in the studio, mixing and remixing the album to get just the right sound. Barry had wanted them to succeed, Blondie thought, and wiped a tear from his cheek. And he'd put them first, before his own happiness.
...I just want to be free / Is there a possibility?... / ...This life like dream isn't for me /
Tre began a drumroll, keeping it tight. Rat-a-tat-tat, bam-bam-bam. Cymbal crash there. It was easier to pretend this wasn't Barry's funeral, that Barry wasn't gone, if he just concentrated on his drums.
I fell asleep while watching Spike TV / After 10 cups of coffee / And you're still not here / Dreaming of a song / When something went wrong / But I can't tell anyone / 'Cruz no one's here /
Those late nights in the studio. Smoking, drinking. Pretending that they were working. Jay sighed. Never again, most likely.
Left me here alone / When I should have stayed home / After 10 cups of coffee / I'm thinking / Where'd you go? /
Billie took a sweeping bow, then handed the microphone to Tre. He winked cheekily at his audience, then launched into his solo.
I got a rock and roll band / I got a rock and roll life / I got a rock and roll girlfriend / And another ex-wife / I got a rock and roll house / I got a rock and roll car / I play the shit out of the drums / And I can play the guitar / I got a kid in New York / I got a kid in the Bay / I haven't drank or smoked nothin' / In over 22 days / So get off of my case /
Tre tossed the microphone back to Billie, who caught it effortlessly and let out a war cry. His wife was dancing in the pew and he winked at her while she blew him kisses.
...So send my love a letterbomb / And visit me in hell / We're the ones going /
Deep breath, deep breath. Sing from your soul. Don't stop to think about whose in that coffin. That's just a box, just a box that's in your audience.
Home. / We're coming home again / I started fuckin' running / Just as soon as my feet touch ground / We're back in the barrio / But to you and me, that's Jingletown / Home. / We're coming home again.../
And the applause was deafening.