Going cross-eyed doing the last little bit of editing …
Excerpt from SOUNDCHECK chapter – the Silva boys feeling the strain.
“You are a one syllable guy this afternoon,” said Zave. “Don’t sweat it. We won’t put it in tonight’s set. Problem solved.”
“But I want to try it on a crowd. See if it flys. It’s just hard to sing though. Hurts even.”
Nate kicked at his pedal board. “Shit the overdrive’s moving. Raff! I need a cable tie. Let’s hope no one likes it and then you’ll never ever have to do it live again.”
Bran sighed and dropped to the floor. He played a haunting riff that echoed out over the arena and made everyone stand still.
Nate laughed. “Purple Rain?”
Smirking, Bran sang the opening to Prince’s opus. The lines about not wanting to cause trouble. Or pain. When he got to the part about wanting to see them laughing, Nate used his boot to push him over.
“Listen, you lot might not have lives, but I’ve got places to go,” whined Ben. “Get up off the floor and finish this shit. And stop looking like such a sad little baby foal.”
“There’s no such thing as a baby foal.” Tuning his guitar to open G, Bran looked up and laughed. “It’s just foal.”
Ben looked around for backup. “Bullshit. Baby foals are a thing, aren’t they, Dave?”
“No,” boomed Silva’s manager from the front row seats. “They’re just foals.”
“Whatever.” Ben lifted his guitar over his head. “You’re so basic.”
Bran snorted. “You are.” Raising his eyebrows at Ben, he played the opening riff to ‘Dirt’.
“Jesus, speaking of babies. I’m not wasting anymore time on your stop-start diva crap.” Sneering, Ben put his bass on a stand. “I’m outta here. Bouncing big time.”
“Okay, sure. Could you do me a favour and go directly to a streetball court? Someone there might bounce you on your fucking head for us. And don’t forget about the TV thing at the hotel later. I’m not doing it by myself,” Bran yelled at Ben’s back.
Without turning, Ben gave him the finger and kept walking.
“Chill, man,” said Nate. “I can do that Beat interview with you if he doesn’t show.”
“I hate it when he says bounce. He sounds like a wanker. He’s worse than Zave these days.”
Zave thumped his kick drum. “Hey, I can hear you.”