manic fiction (or should that be fantasy)
Standing at the side of the stage I had a good view of the gig, much better than the people in the audience anyway although I knew I wasn't supposed to be there. It was all very innocent really, I'd found a pink plastic wristband, put it on without thinking and noticed others with the same wristband walking freely into the backstage area. I naturally followed. Well wouldn't you?
And that is how I came to be standing at the side of the stage... once backstage I followed the people outside to an area full of portakabins and then I saw my favourite band sitting at a table being interviewed for tv. Keeping well out of sight I sat on the grass and watched from a distance. I couldn't really hear what they were saying and then the camera crew left. The other band members went into the portakabin leaving the drummer on his own. But I didn't have the nerve to go over and introduce myself even though I was wearing the sacred pink wristband and could have got away with it.
I knew they were due onstage soon and when the others came back out I followed them backstage and stayed at the edge of the stage to watch the gig. Other people joined me and I tried to be cool and act like one of them. I didn't know who they were, I guessed people they knew or journalists then I heard someone make a comment behind me and turned round to see a member of a rival band looking rather out of it. Oh dear. Throughout the whole set they made derogatory comments. To make it worse the people with them thought it was funny. I won't repeat what they said.
The final song came to an end and they started trashing the stage. The audience were loving it. Someone pushed past me and started taking photos until a guitar came hurtling in our direction only just missing us. Then the guitarist came over, retrieved it and finished smashing it against the stage.
Throughout all this the drummer just sat there and watched and I wondered what he was going to do. Only when the guitars were finally in pieces did he start on the drumkit. I had seen him do this on video but never in reality. I wish I'd taken a camera but I hadn't expected to be close enough to get any decent pics. As he destroyed it he seemed to be in a world of his own and the rest of the band joined in to help him. I wondered if the drumkit was figuratively a member of the press they hated for giving them a bad review as it was pulled apart and flattened.
Then security shoved me out of the way to try and stop them starting on the lights. They actually had to physically restrain them which they weren't too happy about. I stepped out of the way as they were escorted offstage and I stared at what was left of the equipment. I followed to see where they'd gone. Instead of going back to the portakabin they were marched over to their tour bus. It was dark by now and I hid behind a nearby bus.
I guessed they'd be leaving soon and started on the way back. Someone walked past me and made their way over to the backstage area. We both stood there waiting to be let in, me not really looking at them. It was only when they spoke to security that I realised who it was.
"If I could just get back in for a minute" he pleaded but they weren't letting him in. "It's out of my hands, you can't come back in here". He looked at me and back at security. "But you can come through" they said to me. "It doesn't matter I was going anyway" I said. "I've seen what I came to". "Who do they think they are?" he said. "I've left my stuff in there". "Well, I could get it for you?" He looked relieved. "Oh would you? Here's the key for the portakabin, it's got our name on the front of it" He told me what to look for and I told security I'd changed my mind.
Walking up to the portakabin I had to walk past that obnoxious c*** from the other band who was by now even more out of it and could hardly stand up. It was beyond me why people found him interesting at all. I put the key in the door and went inside and picked up what was needed. On my way out someone came up to me and asked where the band were, they couldn't find them anywhere. I explained they weren't allowed back in. At that they went off to find out who was responsible and I went back outside and handed over the stuff.
"Thanks so much, why don't you come back to the bus for something to drink seeing as we're not allowed back in there". I told him someone was looking for them and they were going to sort out what was going on. "It was our own stuff we smashed anyway" he said. "It's not like they have to pay for it". Then he added "we won't be coming back".
Arriving at the bus the others were sat at the back deep in conversation. I sat at the front and he went to talk to them. I wondered what was in the case on the table that I'd brought back from the portakabin. Soon he came back with some bottles and crisps. "This is nice" I said looking round at the tour bus. "It'll do" he said.
And then he opened the case. Sitting opposite I couldn't see what was in it. When he connected his mobile phone to it and started tapping on keys I realised what it was. "I'm just checking my email".
How rock n roll, I thought. I looked out into the darkness. The others left the bus even though he told them they wouldn't get back in but I offered my wristband so they'd at least have a chance. "Put the tv on, make yourself at home" he said, totally consumed by what was on the screen. I went and sat infront of the tv a few seats down.
It must be nice to travel round in this, I thought, after a hard nights stage trashing.
An advert for their tv appearance came on and he came over to have a look. He thought it was funny how they were advertising them as the best thing on the bill when they'd been banned from the festival. "Some people will always hate us" he said. "It's not a crime to smash your own instruments is it?" "The crowd enjoyed it" I said. "You saw it then? What did you think?" "Of the show?" "No the grand finale, it was better than an encore anyway" he said.
"You enjoyed it then?" I asked. Suddenly he became defensive and went back to the computer. "There's a few more things I want to look at, websites and things".
Then he started ranting. "Listen to this!!" I duly listened. "They were completely out of control, no regards for the safety of their fans, any of whom could have been injured by flying pieces of debris"... I remembered the guitar which came flying in my direction. "And to make matters worse they had to be forcibly restrained by security. They were then marched off the site for their own safety".
"Come and see!" he said. So I went over and looked at the screen. "It gets worse!" he said.
They had quoted the obnoxious c*** from the other band who'd been slagging them off during their performance. And it wasn't nice. "They do this" he said "and then when we have an album coming out they want to put us on the cover and expect us just to turn up and be nice to them" Not knowing anything about the ins and outs of rock and roll I kept my mouth shut.
"Load of s***" he said, loading in another website. "The sites done by fans are better". It dawned on me he didn't know I was a fan of his band. I had somehow forgot to tell him. "I bet when they do show it they cut out the trashing" I said. He agreed. "It's not like we're the first band who ever broke anything" he said. "Look at all those stoned c**** backstage, we don't do that".
A documentary was coming on tv and he told me to record it for an absent band member. I said I'd seen it before. "So has he!" he said "but he wants to see it again". Then without warning he asked me "so what paper is it you work for". I was taken aback. "Paper?" "You're either in a band or a journalist?" I didn't understand. But by not giving any information about myself I had made him suspicious. "What makes you think that?" "The wristband..."
I didn't know what to say. Luckily at that moment the others came back and he went to talk to them at the back of the coach so I started watching the documentary. Images of bombed out buildings filled the screen. I couldn't hear what the band was saying, they were talking quietly on purpose because I was there. To make it worse they thought I was a journalist.
Another band member came back down the coach and sat next to me. "I'm missing my programme" he said. He looked over at the computer with disdain. "Nasty evil thing" he said. "What is?" "The internet" he said. I didn't say anything and he turned up the volume.
"We almost got in a fight" he said "when we tried to get into the backstage area". "And did you, get back in, I mean". "Oh yes, we persuaded them. He's much too polite for his own good" he said, pointing to the back of the coach. "You haven't got to let them mess with you". "Would you mind turning off the computer for me, it's distracting me" he said. I went over to it but I'd never seen one of these before.
Soon its owner came back and I moved over to make room for him. He started tapping on the keys again. "I am emailing those who wrote that s*** about us" he said. "What name are you going to use?" asked his friend. He didn't answer. His friend continued "he's got a long list of aliases for writing to the press". "Oh really?" At this he seemed annoyed "don't tell everyone!" I thought I had better tell them I wasn't a journalist and how I'd just found a wristband when his friend handed it back to me. "We didn't need it after all thanks anyway". But I just couldn't get the words out. He turned the screen away from me so I couldn't see what he was typing. I decided on a different approach.
"Some journalists don't half write s***" I said "like for instance one of the first reviews of your new album was ridiculous". There was silence so I continued. "It's almost like they have a personal vendetta against you". Still no reply, both were engrossed in their respective screens. "I bet he's getting p***** at the back" he said, "as usual". I decided my presence was no longer needed and made my excuses to leave. "I really should be going".
"So you're not press then?" "No, No" I said. I knew I'd have to explain. "I know it's very under hand but I found the wristband" At this he turned the screen in my direction. "What do you think?" I read it. "They're going to print about one line to make you look stupid" He pressed send. "It'll nark them off when they get it though" he said.
"So what is it you do?" asked his friend. I really wished I'd gone now. "I write a few things" I said "but not for the press!". "What is it you write for?" I was embarrassed now. "Fanzines, every now and again". "Fanzines!!" he said giving me a fright. "Yes". "I love fanzines. What fanzines do you write for?" "My own..." I hoped someone would change the subject. "Oh would I have heard of it?" "I don't know, maybe". "Just as long as it's not the internet" he said. "Oh, I have the internet too" I added. "You do? I don't like it but each to their own". "Yes, I have my fanzine on there" I said. At this he didn't quite know what to say. "Oh, well, I prefer reading things on paper myself". Then a few seconds later "your fanzines on the computer... can we see it then?"
I was well and truly stuck now. And he'd turned the volume down on the tv. All eyes were on me. "OK, but then I'll really have to go". I typed the address into the computer and pressed return, then got up to leave. Both said goodbye but seemed more eager to see what was on the computer screen. As I walked away from the coach I turned and looked back to see them staring intently at my website.
Now they knew I was a fan...
Soon as I got back home I went to check my guestbook and there was a very strange entry, which came as no surprise...
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